“I can tell that in your talk,” the woman said. “Ah. You’re looking for work. But they don’t teach herbs, medicines in those shiny temples, do they? Can you tell stories? Are you gifted? Eh, probably not; the enforcers would have culled you out, but sometimes… Well, what is it?”

“My mother was a midwife and herbalist. From the Woodlands. And I know lots of stories.”

“Do you now? We’ll see. You coming?”

“Now? Yes, oh, yes.”

Emlee pushed open the hide door of the low-lying plank house. The house’s seams were stuffed with mud and grass. Lilia stepped inside to warmth. Her body throbbed.

“We have a straggler, Cora,” Emlee said.

A stout young woman sat at the fireside, nursing a baby at her breast. Her hair was pulled back from a sharp, wolfish face; she looked at Lilia as if she would devour Lilia whole.

“Don’t have room for another one,” Cora said.

“We have any water? She’s filthy. And listen to that breathing! Where’s my wax wraith?”

“There were some bad people at the gate,” Lilia said tentatively.

“Gate trash,” Emlee said. “Parasites are always hanging around the gates. I assure you the rest of us are quite civilized. Cora, did you hear me? Where’s Larn?”

“Fucking that priest and asking favors of his women,” Cora said. She got to her feet and pushed her big baby onto her hip. The baby squirmed, began to whine. “Him and those women set up in Tolda’s hatch, and Larn’s got enough gossip in her lungs to trade over for bread.”

Emlee grunted. She rested her staff near the door, said, “We’ll talk about that later. This is… what’s your name?”

“Lilia.”

Emlee raised her brows. “Haven’t heard that name in some time. Thought no one named girls that anymore. Clean up now. I’ve got a full list today. I’ve three cases of yaws and enough coital diseases to last me two lifetimes. You think I have all day, temple Dhai?”

Lilia dropped her filthy blanket. Cora brought out a pan of tepid, mostly clean water. Lilia sponged herself off as best she could. She wiped at her thighs and saw tendrils of blood leaking back into the pan. She had not wiped her face. She looked down between her thighs, saw a smear of blood. She pressed her fingers between her legs. They came back red.

“I’m bleeding,” Lilia said. It sounded stupid to say it out loud, but seeing the blood reminded her of her bare, scarred arms, and the power that could be called with blood.

“Get her something,” Emlee said. She had settled by the fire and was stirring up some rice.

Cora handed over a wadded rag. “I’ll find you some linen and a belt,” Cora said.