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into a surgery and dispensary. He’d become a licensed Healer! She could not think of a better profession for him. She’d felt vicariously proud of his accomplishment.
    It was desperation that had, at last, driven her to his door. That fever, three gods. At supper Rory had been fine, a little less hungry than usual, but well enough. And then an hour later he’d been flat out on the floor and delirious, and she’d been afraid for his life. Nothing but Rory’s welfare would have led her to seek charity a second time—or to risk being attacked or deported—but here she was.
    Now he was fine, and stuffing his face with fish cakes she’d never be able to pay for. Isolda turned away, wiping her eyes.
    “Are you all right?” Marius asked, reaching for her arm.
    “Fine,” she said, her voice shaking. “Just relieved.”
    “Never you worry,” he said, giving her elbow a pat. “Fevers are dangerous but, in the right hands, easily cured. You were right to bring him here. I’d like to keep him here another day or two for safety’s sake.”
    Isolda shook her head. “We cannot. He has to work today, and so do I.”
    “That fever could come back,” warned Marius. “I need to keep an eye on him for a while.”
    “ Please can I stay?” asked Rory, who’d just drained an entire glass of lemonade. Since Rory worked at a fruit stand where expensive fruits such as lemons were sold, she had an idea of how many quintetrals had just gone down his gullet.
    “He eats and drinks too much,” said Isolda.
    “Not at all,” said Marius. “It’s important to eat and drink when you’ve had a fever. You should do the same. To protect yourself in case you’ve been exposed.”
    She shook her head. That was nonsense; as of last night, she’d been warded, so she couldn’t catch Rory’s fever. Perhaps she could leave Rory here for the day while she went to work, but the idea bothered her. Rory was a bottomless pit of need and Marius an overly generous giver. Someone needed to stand between the two of them.
    Marius rested his chin in his hand, as if puzzled. “Would you like to help out in the surgery while he rests?”
    Isolda considered. She could supervise Rory if she did that, but she’d miss out on a day’s pay at the factory, and Rory’s pay as well. She supposed she could afford that.
    “I could pay you,” added Marius.
    Accept his charity and his money? Gods, no. But perhaps a compromise. “I will help you in the surgery today to help compensate for your treatment of Rory.”
    “There’s no charge for Rory’s treatment,” said Marius. “But I accept.”

Chapter 8
     
    Isolda hoped to be of use in the surgery to repay Marius for his kindness, but she soon realized that Marius needed little in the way of assistance. His first patient was a woman with stomach pain. He bade the woman lie on the cot, and he laid hands on her, presumably using his magic. Neither Isolda nor Drusus could be of any help. When Drusus offered to go to the dispensary to mix something up, Marius said he would do it, and he asked Isolda to go with him.
    Once there, he asked her to hand him a stoppered vial.
    She did so.
    “How did you learn Kjallan?” he asked.
    She shrugged. “I live in Kjall now, so I learned it.”
    “Forgive me for saying this, but my impression is that your people don’t mingle much with my people. Therefore they don’t always learn the language.”
    This felt accusatory, and she wasn’t sure what he was getting at, or how she was expected to respond. But there was truth in his assessment, and since Marius was a kind man, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. “It is true. Some of my people choose not to learn Kjallan. Also, it can be dangerous for us to mix with Kjallans.”
    He measured liquid into the vial. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. But you chose to learn the language anyway?”
    She considered. “I am here for...what is the word? Forever. A lifetime. So I learned the language. And of course