Commandment Read Free Page A

could have disembarked at any station they chose, but returning to the Third Station was the tacit choice. Both were familiar with the local environment, and for crooks on the run, that was of paramount importance.
    On entering the inn, Lakif teetered precariously as her companion booked two rooms for the day. The chief warden’s reaction to the two was telltale; he rolled his eyes in remembrance.
    No sooner had Lakif commandeered the quarters than she scampered for the bed. The sheets zoomed up toward her face, and all was thrown into blackness.
    Later in the morning, she was once again aroused by a rain of thumping on the door. With a surly manner she answered it, primed to criticize her guard.
    Instead, she was startled to find that an herb wife was calling. The lady barreled into the chamber, nearly bowling the sleepy Acaanan over. The distaff was armed with bandages, a pot of hot water, and a satchel of medicinal plants and herbs. She had, of course, come in response to Lakif’s injury. The Acaanan didn’t bother to ask how she came by such information. That Lakif had briefly spotted Ceric Dumont on entering put an end to the mystery. Few details escaped the eagle-eyed proprietor of the Goblin Knight.
    Under a barrage of orders, Lakif flopped down on the bed and produced her tumescent ankle. The misshapen limb looked like a black serpent that had just swallowed a rat. The nurse thoroughly cleansed the spot with steaming water, which surprised the Acaanan, as she had always bought into the belief that swelling was reduced by cold. But as it was soothing she didn’t raise a fuss. The nurse spread an ointment around the turgid site. It resembled anchovy paste and reeked with a disagreeable odor. Curiously, she even applied a dab of the material at a certain spot near Lakif’s groin, well removed from the site of injury. Then she placed a twig of fennel alongside the swollen joint and secured it flush to Lakif’s ankle using a tourniquet. When the Acaanan dared to ask about the fennel’s purpose she received a cursory account of its herbal powers of renewal, along with firm instructions not to tamper with the dressing until the nurse returned in the morning. If need be, Lakif could use a crutch to alleviate pressure from the foot. Lakif assured her absolute compliance.

III
The Inquisitor
    L AKIF SPENT THE BALANCE OF THAT DAY AND THE FOLLOWING ONE SHELTERED in her quarters. Although she twittered with nervous energy, she knew there was no real reason to amble about the inn, and leaving it was out of the question. She was anchored by her foot, and aggravating the wound by unnecessary jaunts only delayed her forthcoming journey to the Vulcan. The nurse returned each morning on cue, and arranged meals to be delivered to Lakif’s quarters, an accommodating amenity.
    On the second day, Lakif’s conviction toward recuperation was severely tested. Even from her remote location, she could hear a great hubbub down in the common room. A great jamboree was underway, although she had no idea why. She longed to go and celebrate with all the guests, but resisted the urge.
    No sooner had the herb wife left than Lakif scrambled out of bed and hastily groomed herself. It had been the nurse’s third visit, and she had announced that she was pleased with Lakif’s convalescence and that the Acaanan would require no more treatment. Lakif was overjoyed at the promising prognosis.
    The Acaanan hardly winced as she hobbled down the stairs to the common room. She was resolute that her joy would not be celebrated with another day of isolation, but among the gentile patrons of the Goblin Knight. Thus, after the herb wife bid her adieu, she decided to hike forth. The fennel had worked its herbal magic. Not only was her wound nearly healed; her whole body felt rejuvenated.
    The ambler collapsed on a bench with a sigh of relief, her staff unceremoniously clanging to the floor. It wasn’t, however, her rowan staff. That object was lost to Ebon