‘What’s this?’ Jerame unfolded the paper. ‘“Unavoidable delay in answering your request for assistance.” This is unacceptable! I have patients waiting for treatment!’ He hadn’t the time to go chasing after ingenieurs, sorting out plumbing faults. He had to start looking for Orial.

‘It’s the same all over,’ stammered the boy.

‘What d’you mean, all over?’

‘All over the city, Doctor. All the baths, all the pools.’

Jerame looked at Sister Crespine. She gave a perplexed little shrug.

‘Shoddy maintenance! Scrimping on essential works! I’ve been warning them about this for years. I trust the Mayor has been informed.’

‘They’re saying it’s bad luck ‘cause the dragonflies didn’t fly.’

‘Silly superstitions!’ snorted Jerame. He spun the boy a coin. ‘Go on, boy. Here’s for your pains. Tell your master I’ll be pleased to see him just as soon as he can get here.’

‘I’ve heard the self-same rumours,’ Sister Crespine said when the boy had pocketed his tip and gone. ‘It’s not just the Sanatorium. The Temple is closed. They say the sacred springs have dried to a trickle…’

‘Impossible,’ Jerame said. ‘We’ve had plentiful rain in the past years. Springs don’t just dry up overnight.’

‘Not without divine intervention…’

‘Oh, Crespine, I’d believed better of you! Don’t tell me you give credence to all this talk of the vengeance of the Goddess?’

Sister Crespine opened her mouth – and then snapped it shut again.

‘We can offer manipulation today.’ Jerame turned and made for the stairs. ‘Any patient who can be treated without immersion or hot mud can still be seen.’

‘And if they want to see you?’ Sister Crespine called from the foot of the stairs.

‘I have to go to the Constabulary. Book them an appointment later…’

A noisy crowd filled the street outside the Guildhall. Crudely painted banners proclaimed ‘Restore Our Hot Water’. Jerame hastily skirted around the edge of crowd, hoping no one would recognise him and ask him to join their protest. He had no time to spare in his search for Orial.

But as he reached the Constabulary, he met the Commissaire coming down the steps in company with several of his constables.

Jerame hailed him.

‘Any news of my daughter?’

‘I’m sorry, Doctor Magelonne, all my men have been busy investigating this business at the springs. Now there’s unrest outside the Guildhall. And as you have no proof of forced entry into your property – or abduction – there’s little I can do.’

And the Commissaire walked on past him.

‘Damn!’ Jerame sat down on the Constabulary steps. Every trail he followed petered out. He had had posters put up about the city, offering a reward for information as to Orial’s whereabouts. But the disappearance of one girl seemed to matter little to a spa city whose water supply had suddenly, inexplicably, dried up.