57 HALF-TOLD LIES AND FRAGMENTS OF TRUTH

When they reached the port of entry at North Flat Vigil, leaving the Pall behind, they grabbed their packs and disembarked from the carriages. The horses were led away to be quarantined before being returned to the roster. A pair of wardens traced the framework of the two carriages with the flats of their shrive-steel swords. The travelers lined up in order of rank to go through the inspection chambers.

Elen went last into a chamber that was paneled, ceiling to floor, with hallow-wood planks. She disrobed and laid out her clothing on a hallow-wood table. The contents of her pack as well: her courier’s kit, a change of clothing, a clean pair of socks, pot, bowl, spoon, and knife, menstrual kit, soap and comb and linen towel. She could name the person who had crafted each item, like her one-time lover and regular friend, Baima, who had made the oatmeal honey soap.

A bell rang. The farther door opened. She walked into the next chamber, built entirely of holystone on which Spore could get no purchase. Steps took her down into a bath-like area that made her think of the bath the prince had taken at the Residency. Had the haunt stood here, arms extended decoratively, while a menial poured pure-water through the overhead hatch and onto his head?

Thinking of him, she couldn’t help but smile as water showered down from above, drenching her. She’d long been grateful that the touch of pure-water did not sting as the road did. If anything, it coaxed the viper toward slumber. She waited, dripping and shivering. If Spore had lodged itself somewhere about a traveler’s body, then it would now slide free to get away from the pure-water.

Of course, they’d been on the road, where Spore never gained purchase. Still, according to the dictates of the Willow Emperor, no exceptions could be made. After all, it was also a good way for the empire to keep track of people’s movements and manifests.

The next door led into a changing room, where all her gear had been brought over. She dried off, dressed, packed up her things, and rang a handbell. A menial opened the last door and escorted her down a passageway to the forecourt of the Vigil tower. Here, the Sun Chasers waited with a change of horses and the wardens seated, ready to go. As she clambered up onto the second carriage beside Xilsi, she heard the Vigil captain speaking earnestly by the first one.

“Your Highness, you’re sure you won’t take a brief repast before you go on?”

“We will not.”

Xilsi sighed and muttered, “Astaylin would consider it time well spent to indulge officials for an hour, and certainly over a meal, to sound out their loyalties and offer quiet favors. The exalted Gevulin never waits around for anything or anyone.”