A loud banging at the tavern’s entrance killed the laughter and people turned sharply. Ayers nearly dropped the keg he was lifting, certain the sheriff was leading another raid, but it was only Dr. Gerand. He stood at the open door, hammering the frame with his shoe to get their attention. Everyone breathed again.

“Come in, Doctor!” Ayers shouted. “I’ll have another keg brought up.”

“Can’t,” he replied. “Need to be keeping my distance from everyone for a while. Just want to let people know to stay clear of the Dunlaps’ house. They’ve got a case of pox there.”

“Is it bad?” the grocer asked.

“Bad enough,” the physician said.

“All these new immigrants from down south are bringing all kinds of sickness with them,” Ayers complained.

“Aye, that’s probably what did it,” Dr. Gerand said. “Mrs. Dunlap took in a boarder a few days back, a refugee from Vernes. It was that fella who first come down with the pox. So don’t be going near the Dunlaps’ place until you hear it’s safe from me. In fact, I’d steer clear of Benning Street altogether. I’m gonna see if I can get the sheriff to put up some signs and maybe a fence or something to let people know to keep out. Anyway, I’m just going around telling folks, and I would appreciate it if you helped me spread the word before this gets out of hand.”

By noon, the city guard was turning all the townsfolk out of their houses and shops, searching for the escaped traitor, and the very first place they looked was the Dunlaps’ home. The five guards on duty the night Emery had disappeared were forced to draw lots, and one lone soldier went in. He came out after finding nothing but a couple of sick people, neither of whom was Emery. After making his report from a distance, he returned to the Dunlaps’ to remain under quarantine.

The soldiers then tore through The Laughing Gnome, the marketplace, the old church, and even the scribe’s office, leaving them all a mess. Squads of soldiers entered the sewers and came up soaked. They did not find the escaped traitor, but they did find a couple of chests that some said were filled with stolen silver.

There was no sign of Emery Dorn.

By nightfall, a makeshift wooden fence stood across Benning Street and a large whitewashed sign read

KEEP OUT!

Quarantined by order of the Viceroy!

Two days later, the soldier who had searched the Dunlaps’ house died. He was seen covered with puss-filled boils in the yard. The doctor dug a hole while people watched from a distance. After that, no one went near Benning Street.

The city officials and those at the Gnome concluded Emery had left town or died—and was secretly buried somewhere.