Warsworn

shadows as much as he could. He'd stop every few paces, listening. I'd stop too, but my heart was beating so fast that I would not have heard an army approaching. It was scaring me, that he thought this was necessary.
    The healer's clinic was off the square, in a small alleyway. Epor went in first, urging me to stay pressed against the wall next to the door. It was a small area, just the two rooms and a loft above, much like the house we'd gone in the day before. Epor returned quickly, and gestured me into the back room. "This is it, Warprize. The room above has only beds with the dead in them."
    It was her stillroom, filled with familiar scents and the cloying odor of death. The room was in disarray, as if it had been used in haste. There were pots of fever's foe over by the fire, still in the cauldrons. I found half-ground dittany and watermint on the tables. She'd tried them, as she had said.
    Epor stood at the door, shifting his gaze from me to the other room and the outer door. He was making no secret of his impatience, but I wasn't to be rushed.
    The old schools of healing taught that you kept your best recipes and discoveries to yourself, calling them the secrets of the trade. Eln took a different approach, teaching that all knowledge must be shared to make us all better healers. If Rahel was of the old school, she'd have hidden her notes and recipes somewhere. I only hoped that Rahel had not guarded her secrets too well.
    It took a bit of poking around, but I found rolls of notes in a canister on a high shelf. I put that in my satchel, along with the notes. With any luck, she'd taken some notes about the process of this plague.
    Epor coughed. "Warprize…"
    "One last thing," I moved to his side. "I want to see the bodies upstairs."
    "Quickly."
    I moved up the stairs as quickly as I could. It was warmer here and the smell was that much stronger. I was grateful for the ginger cloth over my nose and throat, but even that couldn't cover the smell. I stepped to the nearest bed and pulled back the blanket. There were no visible wounds on the body. He lay on his back, as if asleep. The cups and jars on the table between the bed held fever's foe and dittany. I looked at the other man, and had to pause, thinking for some reason that I had seen him before. I studied the face, but death had left his mark and I wasn't sure if—
    "Warprize."
    I replaced the blankets and moved to leave when a pile of clothing caught my attention. Quickly I held up the top garment, then shuffled through the rest of the pile. These were priestly garments, worn by the priests of the Sun God. What were they doing here?
    "Warprize."
    This time, Epor was at the bottom of the stairs, and not to be denied. I turned to go and took a step, when a noise came from behind me.
    From under one of the beds.
    I froze, holding my breath. At the bottom of the steps, Epor frowned at me. "Lara, we need to
    —"
    "I think—" I turned to look, but I was too slow. The man sprang from under the bed, barreled into me, throwing me to the side. As I fell to the floor, he leaped down on Epor with a snarl.
    "Epor!" I called out as I staggered to my feet. There were sounds of a furious struggle below, with grunts and howls from the sick man. I clattered down the stairs, to see them rolling together on the floor. "Epor, don't hurt him!"
    Epor gave me an exasperated look, even as he tried to pin the man down. The man put up a furious struggle, using fists and teeth to win free of Epor. Epor had him pinned when the man craned his neck and bit Epor on the arm.
    Epor spat a curse. The man escaped, scrambled to his feet, and ran into the still room, with Epor right behind. I winced at the sounds of breaking crockery.
    By the time I got to the door, Epor had the man on the ground, and pinned. "Get some rope."
    "Rope?" I looked about wildly.
    The man heaved under Epor, trying to break free. Epor panted with the effort to keep the man down. "Get something!"
    I reached for a pile of cloth, and handed him some ban-dages. Epor muttered something under his breath, flipped the man over, and hit him in the jaw. The man collapsed, moaning.
    "Epor."
    "Sorry." His eyes crinkled in a smile that proved he wasn't. "He may be sick, Lara, but he's strong. As well for me that he's no warrior, eh?" Teeth flashing, Epor heaved the man over his shoulder. "Let's get him bound to the bed before he wakes."
    As we crossed the square, a warble rose from outside the walls. Even I knew that Joden was