Page 89 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

The servants had done what they could to keep the heat out. Every door had been opened, screens blocked the sunlight, and bowls of ice waited on the table. Niclays knelt with Purumé and Eizaru, and they dined on marbled beef and salt-pickled vegetables and sweetfish and sea lettuce and little cups of toasted seaweed, each bursting with roe. While they ate, they spoke of what they had all been doing since last they had met.

It had been a long time since Niclays had been allowed the pleasure of a conversation with like-minded people. Eizaru was still running his medical practice, which now offered both Seiikinese and Mentish remedies for ailments. Purumé, meanwhile, was working on a herbal concoction that brought on a deep sleep, allowing a surgeon to remove carnosities from the body without causing pain.

“I call it blossom sleep,” she said, “as the final ingredient was a flower from the South Mountains.”

“She trekked for days to find that flower in the spring,” Eizaru said, with a proud smile at his daughter.

“It sounds revolutionary,” Niclays said, stunned. “You could use it to study the interior oflivingbodies. In Mentendon, all we can do is cut open corpses.” His heart thumped. “Purumé, you must publish these findings. Think of how anatomy would change.”

“I would,” she said, with a weary smile, “but there is one problem, Niclays. Firecloud.”

“Firecloud?”

“A restricted substance. Alchemists make it from the bile of fire-breathers,” Eizaru explained. “The bile is smuggled into the East by Southern pirates, treated in some way, then stuffed into a ceramic orb with a dab of gunpowder. When the wick is lit, the orb explodes and releases a smoke as black and thick as tar. If a dragon breathes it in, it falls asleep for many days. The pirates can then sell its body parts.”

“An evil practice,” Purumé said.

Niclays shook his head. “What has that to do with blossom sleep?”

“If the authorities believe my creation might be used for similar means, they will stop my research. They may even close down our practice.”

Niclays was speechless.

“It is very sad,” Eizaru said heavily. “Tell us, Niclays—are any Seiikinese medical documents translated in Mentendon? Perhaps Purumé could publish her findings there.”

Niclays sighed. “Unless things have changed dramatically in the years I have been away, I doubt it. Pamphlets change hands in some circles, but they are not approved by the crown. Virtudom does not hold with heresy, or with the knowledge of heretics.”

Purumé shook her head. As Niclays helped himself to some prawns, a young man appeared in the doorway, dewy from the heat.

“Learnèd Doctor Roos.” He bowed, panting. “I come from the honored Governor of Ginura.”

Niclays braced himself. She must have changed her mind about letting him stay here.

“She asks me to inform you,” the servant said, “that you will be expected at Ginura Castle for an audience when it pleases the all-honored Warlord.”

Niclays raised his eyebrows. “The all-honored Warlord wishes to seeme? Are you quite sure?”

“Yes.”

The servant bowed out of the room.

“So you will be received at court.” Eizaru looked amused. “Be ready. They say it is like a reef of sea flowers. Beautiful, but everything you touch will sting.”

“I can hardly wait,” Niclays said, but his brow knitted. “I wonder why he wants to see me.”

“The all-honored Warlord likes to hear from the Mentish settlers. Sometimes he will ask to hear a song or a story from your country. Or he may wish to know what sort of work you are doing,” Eizaru said. “It will be nothing to worry about, Niclays, truly.”

“And until then, you are free,” Purumé pointed out, eyes twinkling. “Let us show you our city while you are out of Orisima. We could visit the theatre, speak about medicine, see the dragons in flight—anything you have wanted to do since you arrived.”

Niclays could have wept with gratitude.

“Truly, my friends,” he said, “I should like nothing better.”

19

West

Loth followed the Donmata Marosa through yet another passageway. Torchlight baked his eyes as he edged between the sweating walls.

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