Chapter 26: A Caravan in the Courtyard

"Does your roof always lean like that?" Brinna’s question reached the gate before the caravan did. Ren looked at the temporary canvas, the patched chimney, and the upper corner that had recently tried to become weather. "Only when someone qualified is looking at it." "I regret being qualified." Then Elara came through the gate. She took one look at the wagons, the injured travelers, the horses, Brinna’s crippled workshop, and Ren sitting on the handcart. Her face went completely calm. That was when Ren knew she was terrified. "Stop the first wagon there," she said. "Nobody unloads until I have names and needs. Sylvaine?" The healer stepped down. "Twenty-four total. Six need beds and observation. Three more are injured but can move with support. Fifteen are not medically injured." Elara already had chalk in hand. "We have four usable beds." "Then the two most stable observation patients can use padded floor cots beside me." "Front room?" "If I control traffic." "You control patients. I still need shelter names and room assignments." "Names, yes. Symptoms, no." Elara looked at her. Sylvaine looked back. "Agreed." That was the entire negotiation. The courtyard exploded into organized inconvenience. Elara put the four highest-need patients into the hall’s usable beds. Two more went onto thick pallet cots in the front room under Sylvaine’s eye. The three support-mobile injured received the driest floor space near the dining room wall. Everyone else got benches, bedrolls, covered wagon space, and stern instructions not to cross the chalk line beside the dangerous east wall. Ren started to move a blanket stack. Elara pointed without looking up. "Second room. West side." He changed direction. Brinna watched. "You obey her quickly." "I have survival instincts." "Developing ones," Maelis said. Bram took command of the kitchen before anyone could volunteer him. "Emergency portions first. Injured people and anyone Sylvaine marks. Everyone else waits until I know what survived the week." A merchant reached for his purse. Bram pushed the hand away. "Tomorrow we discuss what costs money. Tonight I am counting bowls." He looked at Elara. "I am also counting every grain we use." "Please do." "See? Romance." Elara did not dignify him with an answer. Brinna’s mobile workshop reached the courtyard on its temporary axle and immediately created another problem. "I need level ground," she said. "You may park in the north storage yard," Elara replied. "Outside Pella’s marked wall exclusion. No forge heat. No permanent fixtures. No claim to the space." Brinna blinked. "I had not asked for ownership yet." "You were going to." "I like you." "That is not a contract term." "Could be." "Still no." Brinna laughed and directed two caravan workers toward the yard. Sylvaine claimed three folding screens, two washbasins, a water table, and the front room door. Bram complained that she had stolen one of his clean buckets. Sylvaine informed him it had become medical equipment. Bram informed her medical equipment still needed to be returned clean. Their temporary clinic partnership appeared to be thriving. Nia took the messenger problem. Within fifteen minutes she had a page of names, businesses, relatives, and destinations. "Two merchant houses in town. One family north of the bridge. Three messages for people who are probably asleep somewhere sensible." Elara handed her copied slips. "Confirm delivery. No promises about departure times." Nia’s ears twitched. "You remove all the art." "I preserve lawsuits for later." Nia grinned and vanished through the gate at a run. Kellan stood in the middle of the courtyard waiting for Maelis to give him something important. Maelis looked toward Bram. "Quartermaster." Kellan’s expression fell by a degree. Bram handed him two buckets and a scrub brush. "Water first. Then blood off the front-room boards. Then fresh straw under the horses. Then bedding." Kellan looked at the brush. "I passed a field trial." "Yes." "To scrub floors." "You passed a field trial so somebody can trust you when the useful job is ugly." Kellan stared at him. Bram lifted one eyebrow. Kellan took the buckets. "Where’s the well line?" Bram smiled. By sunset the hall had stopped resembling a guild headquarters and started resembling every kind of building at once. Clinic. Wayhouse. Kitchen. Stable office. Message station. Repair yard. Shelter. Twenty-four strangers had names on Elara’s intake sheet. Six observation patients had locations. Three injured travelers had movement instructions. Fifteen exhausted people had somewhere they were allowed to put their belongings. Nobody had paid anything. Elara wrote that down too. Ren found her in the pantry after dark. She was counting blankets. "Thirteen," she whispered. Then started again. He leaned against the doorframe. "You counted those already." "I know." "Twice." "I know." Outside, someone laughed in the dining room. A child Ren had not noticed earlier asked Bram for more bread. A horse stamped in the courtyard. Sylvaine told somebody to stop pretending dizziness was a personality trait. The hall was loud. Elara’s eyes filled before she could stop them. "I used to hate how quiet it was," she said. "Then I got used to it. That was worse." Ren said nothing. "There are too many people." "Yes." "We do not have enough beds." "No." "The roof is temporary." "Very." "And I am so happy I could scream." Ren smiled softly. "Can I hold you?" Elara looked at him for a long second. "Yes." He stepped behind her and wrapped his left arm around her waist. Careful of her hands. Careful of his wrist. Elara leaned back against his chest. For one minute, neither of them tried to solve anything. Then she turned halfway in his arms. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. Ren felt her breath catch. Elara closed her eyes. "Not yet." "Okay." She stayed against him anyway. A knock struck the front door. Not the request bell. Three precise blows. Elara sighed into Ren’s shoulder. "That sounds expensive." They returned to the front room. A thin man in a moss-green broker’s coat stood beneath the seizure notice. A bronze badge on his collar carried the same narrow tower and three lines Brinna had identified on the freight seal. Maelis was already on her feet. The man held out a folded document. "I represent the Vadd material office." His gaze found the evidence pouch at Maelis’s belt. "The caravan carried proprietary Mossdeep stock belonging to our clients. I am here to take possession of the freight manifest, all resin-related records, and the location of the quarantined cargo." Elara did not take the document. "The cargo is under a provincial safety hold." "Then you will direct our recovery crew to it." "And the manifest?" His expression cooled. "No one associated with this hall is authorized to inspect, copy, or retain proprietary freight documentation." Maelis’s hand settled over the sealed pouch. The representative looked at her. "Give me the manifest."