But finally the gate guard returns, accompanied by another soldier wearing a black-and-silver sash over his livery. The newcomer stands before me and bows. He’s umbertouched, and I realize with a start that he was one of the soldiers I’d treated back at Dara.

“Healer Zivah,” he says. “Commander Arxa welcomes you to Sehmar City. He is unable to see you at the moment, but you are to come with me to the rosemarked colony.”

I search the man’s eyes for any recognition, any friendliness, but he is as stone-faced as any of the others. Does he realize that Dara healers saved his life? Does he know what we sacrificed for him? Or does he hate us for not doing enough?

“Where is the compound?” I ask.

“A half hour’s walk to the east. Can you travel?” At least he looks at me straight on when he speaks.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I follow him around the city walls to a small trail leading to the east. You can hardly call it a trail actually, it’s so overgrown with weeds and grasses. My escort walks ahead of me without speaking, only occasionally looking back to check if I’m there. A few times, I see Preener or Scrawny flying behind me, and I waver between gladness at seeing them and worry that they’ll be noticed.

Finally, we come upon a small settlement. It is nothing like Sehmar City. Instead of high stone fortifications, the perimeter here is marked by a worn earthen wall barely taller than I am. Haphazard rooftops jut out like crooked teeth on the other side. The four soldiers standing guard at the gate wave us in without a word. I get the impression that they’re here to keep people in, rather than out.

I fight back a moment of panic when we step through the gates. Makeshift sheds line the roads, some made of proper bricks, some with walls of piled mud, and others that look to be a hodgepodge of straw, sticks, cloth, and whatever else was available at the time. The complete lack of uniformity is disorienting, and I wonder how often a house simply falls apart. The few people on the narrow dirt streets look with suspicion on me and my imperial escort. Some are dressed in fine linens, while others wear nothing more than rags. None of them wear veils over their rosemarked skin, and yet I feel vulnerable when I remove my own. These people look at me with every bit the amount of suspicion shown me by the healthy.