Chapter 14

their gems.”

Jev strode along the sidewalk opposite the yelling people, his focus on the

hospital. If he could just make it inside…

“Perhaps they agree that you smell worse than dirt,” Lornysh said.

A crowd grew on the far sidewalk, people peering at them between the

vendors’ wagons lining the street. Others trailed behind Jev’s little group,

pointing and whispering. Weapons weren’t typical in the capital, since only

zyndar, mages, watchmen, and soldiers were legally allowed to carry them

within the city limits, and Jev suspected that was the only reason nobody had

come forward to oppose them. His team was armed. Well-armed.

A boy of ten or twelve sprinted down an alley, yelling for the watch.

As Jev and Lornysh strode up the steps to the hospital, the doors opened,

and a pair of nurses in white robes stepped out. The man and woman peered

toward the increasingly loud commotion in the street. Someone grabbed an

eggplant from a produce vendor and hurled it toward Lornysh.

“It’s supposed to be tomatoes,” Jev said as Lornysh ducked, the purple

produce sailing over his head.

It thudded against another vendor’s wagon. The noise drew out the owner,

who immediately started cursing at the crowd. Then he spotted the young man

grabbing produce to hurl and turned his curses on him.

“What?” Cutter asked.

“In the children’s tales, it’s always rotten tomatoes that get thrown.

Occasionally, an overly lumpy potato sprouting eyes.”

“Charming,” Lornysh said.

“We have patients for you,” Jev told the nurses, yelling over the crowd.

He debated whether identifying himself would help, but he doubted the angry

bystanders would quiet down enough for the nurses to hear him.

“Servants of the Water Order go to their own hospital,” the male nurse

said, though he came forward, frowning when Zenia groaned in Jev’s arms.

“If they’re to be treated here, the director will demand payment up front.”

“How much?” Jev pushed past them, not wanting to loiter on the landing

when more vegetables were being hurled—despite the protesting vendor who

was smacking the hands of anyone who grabbed something from his wagon

without paying.

“Someone in a uniform is running this way,” Cutter said.

Jev stepped into the cool, dark hallway and tilted his head for the others to

follow him. He also looked for somewhere to set down the women, preferably

before they woke up and attempted to arrest him again. Could he simply lay

them on the marble floor tiles? He didn’t see any stretchers.

“Twenty-five krons each for an initial appraisal,” the man said, waving

toward a lockbox on a stand where such deposits were made. “The final cost

will be assessed after treatment. Or it’s possible doctors from the Water Order hospital will be brought over to treat them.”

“I’ll cover it.” Jev thought about telling them to send the bill to his father,

but he had been receiving pay as an officer in the king’s army, and it had been

ages since he’d been anywhere he could spend it.

“Good, sir. Uh—” The male nurse’s eyes caught on the wolf-head clasp.

“Zyndar?”

“Dharrow, yes. Where shall I put her?”

Lornysh was already laying the monk on the floor as Cutter shut the doors

behind them and dropped a thick wooden bar into place. A thump sounded a

second later, followed by many more thumps. The female nurse stared at the

door in concern. The stout olive wood ought to hold back the crowd, but Jev

hoped for a back exit.

The man rang a bell. “We’ll get stretchers out here, Zyndar. Forgive me

for not recognizing you. Many apologies.”

“Just take her, please,” Jev said, pushing Zenia into his arms so he could

retrieve the necessary payment.

“I, yes, Zyndar.”

“Is that Zenia Cham?” the woman blurted.

“That’s what she introduced herself as.” Jev dug out his purse and fished

out coins. He dumped what he judged to be enough into the payment box as

the female nurse stared at the inquisitor in slack-jawed astonishment.

Jev had a feeling his elven friend had clubbed someone more important

than he’d realized. More famous, at the least.

More thumps battered the door, followed by an authoritative shout, the

words muffled by the stout wood. Jev was glad, since he guessed the

watchman—or men—that Cutter had seen had made it up the stairs by now.

“Did you save her from street hoodlums?” the woman asked.

“Something like that.” Jev kept himself from glancing at Lornysh, though

Cutter snorted. “I’d rather not deal with the crowd. Mind if we go out the

back?”

Jev pointed a thumb down the hallway. The woman was still staring at

Zenia. The man seemed unaware that he held the unconscious inquisitor in his

arms. His gaze had snagged on Lornysh—or maybe Lornysh’s pointed ears.

“We’ll see ourselves out,” Jev said when neither responded. “Take care of

the ladies, eh?”

“Of course, Zyndar,” the woman said. “We wouldn’t dare fail Inquisitor

Cham or the Water Order.”

“Good.” Jev waved for Lornysh and Cutter to follow, then took off down

the hall.

He kept himself from sprinting since zyndar were stately, respectable, and

didn’t run off with their tails between their legs, but he definitely set a fast

pace.