“Pray give my thanks to His Highness,” Elen said to Luviara, torn between wishing the prince had said nothing and being grateful that he had. On her circuit, she always filled her bottle with Thistle Spring’s pure-water. Such water was said to grant vigor and health. Maybe so, but regardless, pure-water would slow down Spore if a person had nothing else.

“Make haste!” snapped Simo.

She filled her leather bottle, took a draught of the refreshingly cold water, filled the bottle again, and wiped her face and washed her hands with water that had collected in the trough. Then she led the way onward.

They reached Sfendia Moat in the last hour before sunset. Children brought in the goats with ringing bells and herded sheep into a stockade ringed by a water-filled ditch. Folk were still out in the gardens, preparing fields for the coming winter.

One of the tillers spotted her and came running. “Deputy Courier, do you bring a reply from my sister?”

“Not now,” said Elen kindly.

The woman took in the presence of the wardens and stopped in her tracks, staring. Wardens didn’t come to hill country villages, not even ones like Sfendia, which boasted a true moat lined with holystone.

Curious people gathered up their tools and hurried after the party, eager to find out who had come. At the bridge, the sentinel on duty said, “What’s this, Elen? How are you come back so soon? Are these wardens?”

Luviara took charge, raising her voice with a piercing announcement. A prince of the imperial line! Captain of a Thousand! Guardian of the Absinthe Grove!

Everything in the village came to a halt.

The village archon cleared out his own compound so the prince might spend the night in the best bed the village had to offer. Villagers came crowding to sit in the dirt plaza before the archon’s house, hoping for a glimpse of the exalted highness. Nothing so exciting had ever happened here. The youngest child present would pass on the memory of this day to their grandchildren, should they live that long.

Since Elen did not belong in the retinue, she was happy to retire to her usual traveling quarters at the village’s tiny Heart Temple. The temple served the village’s ritual needs and, as required by imperial law, provided a hostelry for travelers who hadn’t the means to pay for room and board, as well as minor officials like deputy couriers.