Just then, another soldier runs into the clearing. He takes a step toward me, but his comrade shouts, “Stop! She’s plague-ridden.”

As if I cannot hear every word he’s saying.

I bow my head. “Thank you, sirs, for the warning about the fugitive. I will send notice if I see anything unusual. You are free to search my house, but as a healer I cannot guarantee your safety from infection.” My palms are sweating, and I’m sure my face gives me away, but the soldiers seem more interested in keeping their distance than evaluating my truthfulness.

The first soldier turns to the other. “Come,” he says. “If he’s hiding here, the plague will get him for us.” I suppose they didn’t get a good look at the nomad’s umbermarks.

“Be careful in the dark, sirs,” I add as they turn to go. “One of my scorpions just escaped its cage.”

The soldiers walk faster.

After they’re gone, I return to my cottage. I can see the shed through my window, and my nervous gaze wanders repeatedly back as I gather my things. I think I tied the nomad securely, but there’s no way to be sure, and I won’t risk opening the door again to check. Hanging on a hook by my bed is the blowgun I use to hunt the occasional wren or fox. The darts won’t fell a man, but at least they would slow him down. I slip the dart blower under my sash. It’s as long as my arm and hampers my walking, but I feel safer.

Now there’s the question of what to do with my prisoner. Our leader, Tal, should be told about the nomad in our midst. I’m only allowed to approach our village during a crisis, but I think these circumstances warrant it. First though, I must wait until the Amparans have given up their search, which means I should at least wait until morning. The nomad should be able to survive overnight without food or water. Not comfortably, perhaps, but he gave up his claim to comfort when he raised a knife to my throat.

I bar my door shut before I go to bed and sleep fully clothed. All night, I toss under my blankets, startling awake at the slightest sound, and it’s only near dawn when I fall into a deeper slumber.

When I awaken again, the sun is bright. At first I’m unsure what woke me, but then a cacophony of birdcalls draws me to the window. Several dark shapes circle the shed, beating their wings and chattering at the top of their lungs. I remember hearing before that the nomads tame crows.

I grab my dart blower and step outside.

“Go!” I wave the tube at the birds, and they fly higher. “Leave before I shoot you down.”