Against The World

Greykeep celebrated for eleven minutes.

That was how long it took Mary to find me.

I had reached the great hall before the bells stopped ringing. Someone pressed a cup into my hand. Someone else began singing a song about the return of the Crown. I did not know the words, but nearly everyone around me seemed determined to sing them louder than the person beside them.

The song had reached its third verse when Mary appeared in the doorway.

She carried a ledger.

Celebration ended.

Not for everyone.

Just for me.

“There you are,” she said.

“I was beginning to think you might not find me.”

“You are standing beneath a glowing Crown in a room full of people shouting your name.”

I looked above the throne.

The stone Crown had begun shining when we returned from Westmere.

“That may have made hiding difficult.”

“Come with me.”

“Can I finish this?”

I lifted the cup.

Mary examined it.

“What is it?”

“I was hoping you knew.”

She took it, smelled the contents, and handed it to Melody.

Melody drank it.

“Apple cider.”

Mary nodded.

“You can have another later.”

Melody kept the cup.

I followed Mary from the hall.

The celebration extended throughout the castle. People filled corridors that had been empty a week earlier. Children chased one another beneath ancient banners. Musicians played near the kitchens. Someone had placed flowers around the damaged throne-room doors.

Greykeep felt alive.

That should have made me happy.

It did.

It also meant every hallway was crowded, every storeroom was nearly empty, and several families had decided that the old armory was a suitable place to sleep.

It was not.

Half the ceiling was missing.

Mary led me outside.

Night had fallen, but the settlement remained awake. Hundreds of lanterns illuminated rows of tents, wagons, shelters, and cooking fires stretching beyond the inner wall.

The seven new shelters stood near the northern district.

They were already full.

So were the twelve we had built earlier.

Families slept beneath carts. Others had tied blankets between trees. Several hundred people remained in the registration lines despite the darkness.

I stared at them.

“How many?”

“Five thousand eight hundred and forty-three inside Greykeep’s outer boundary.”

I stopped walking.

Mary did not.

I hurried to catch up.

“Yesterday we had fewer than four thousand.”

“Correct.”

“And two thousand arrived while we were at Westmere.”

“Two thousand one hundred and six.”

“That is worse.”

“It is more accurate.”

We passed three carpenters carrying a roof frame toward the northern district. Behind them, dwarven masons stacked blocks along a new foundation.

Everyone was working.

It was not enough.

“What do we need?” I asked.

Mary opened the ledger.

“Immediately?”

“That word concerns me.”

“It should.”

She turned a page.

“Shelter for at least two thousand four hundred people. Two more communal kitchens. Three additional wells or an extension of the eastern water channel. Firebreaks between the tents. More latrines. A second waste trench. A separate treatment area for the sick. Dry storage for grain. Additional registration tables. Lantern oil. Blankets. Soap.”

I waited.

Mary turned another page.

“There is more.”

“Of course there is.”

“We need a system for locating family members. Six children became separated from their parents today.”

“Were they found?”

“Five were.”

The celebration behind us suddenly sounded too loud.

“What happened to the sixth?”

“A boy named Daniel. Nine years old. Brown hair. Green coat. He arrived with his mother and younger sister shortly before sunset.”

“Who is searching?”

“Eliza assigned four guards. Melody organized another group before we returned.”

I looked around.

Melody was no longer behind us.

She had disappeared sometime after taking my cider.

“She does that.”

“Yes.”

I changed direction.

Mary caught my sleeve.

“Where are you going?”

“To help search.”

“No.”

“A child is missing.”

“And five thousand eight hundred forty-two other people require decisions.”

“Mary—”

“Melody and Eliza are handling the search.”

“That does not mean I should ignore it.”

“No. It means you should trust them.”

I stopped.

Mary lowered her voice.

“You cannot personally solve every problem in Greykeep.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I looked toward the settlement.

A woman carried two sleeping children between the tents. An older man repaired a broken wagon wheel beneath a lantern. Three girls hauled buckets from the nearest well.

Everywhere I looked, someone needed something.

Most did not know where to ask.

The Crown had brought them here.

Which meant I had brought them here.

“I can build the shelters,” I said.

Mary’s expression tightened.

“How quickly?”

“A few hours.”

“All of them?”

“I think so.”

“You stopped a flood, restrained an army, repaired Westmere’s gate, and transported thirty people through the transit system today.”

“The gate transported them.”

“Your hand is shaking.”

I looked down.

It was.

Barely.

I closed my fingers.

“I am fine.”

“You slept four hours last night.”

“Five.”

“You were in the council chamber for one of them.”

“I rested my eyes.”

“You fell asleep while Alistair was explaining grain tariffs.”

“That could happen to anyone.”

Mary closed the ledger.

“You need food and sleep.”

“After the shelters.”

“Uriah.”

“People cannot sleep outside.”

“Some can. The weather is mild, and the tents are dry.”

“Some families do not have tents.”

“We are distributing canvas.”

“It might rain.”

“There are no clouds.”

“That can change.”

“Not tonight.”

“You do not know that.”

“Neither do you.”

I looked up.

The stars remained visible.

I disliked that they supported her argument.

Traitorous little sparklers...

Before I could answer, a shout came from the nearest registration table.

Two men were pushing each other beside a wagon. A woman tried to separate them while several children watched.

I moved toward them.

Mary sighed and followed.

“He stole our place,” the taller man said.

“I did not!”

“You moved your wagon ahead of mine.”

“The wheel broke. We left the road to repair it.”

“And returned thirty spaces ahead.”

“Because my wife is ill.”

The woman beside him looked pale. She leaned against the wagon, one hand pressed to her stomach.

I forgot the argument.

“What is wrong with her?”

The shorter man turned.

He recognized me and immediately stepped backward.

“My king.”

“Please do not do that.”

“Do what?”

“The thing where everyone stops telling me what is wrong because they realize who I am.”

His wife swayed.

I caught her.

Her skin was hot.

Too hot.

“Mary.”

She was already moving.

“Take her to the eastern infirmary.”

“We have an infirmary?”

“We have a tent with two healers.”

“That counts.”

The taller man released the other’s coat.

“My daughter has been sick too.”

Mary looked at him.

“What symptoms?”

“Fever. Stomach pain. She cannot keep food down.”

A cold feeling settled in my chest.

I looked toward the crowded tents.

“How many?”

“We registered eleven cases this morning,” Mary said.

“This morning?”

“Most appeared to be exhausted from travel.”

“And now?”

“Twenty-seven.”

I stared at her.

“You did not mention that.”

“It was next on the list.”

We helped the woman onto a handcart. Two volunteers carried her toward the eastern district while Mary wrote both family names in her ledger.

The argument had ended.

No one cared about the line anymore.

“Where are they getting water?” I asked.

“The western well.”

“Is that the damaged one?”

“We repaired it.”

“Did anyone inspect the water?”

Mary did not answer.

That was an answer.

We went to the western well.

The line stretched between tents. People filled buckets, cups, pots, and barrels. Mud surrounded the stone basin.

The water looked clear.

That meant very little.

A shallow ditch carried spilled water away from the well and downhill through the camp.

Toward the lower tents.

I followed it.

The smell reached me before the problem did.

Waste.

One of the new latrine trenches had been dug uphill from the well.

Not far uphill.

Rain had not fallen, but hundreds of people had used the trench. Wastewater seeped through the soil.

Toward the well.

Mary covered her mouth.

“Oh.”

That was the most frightened I had ever heard her sound.

“Close the well,” I said.

She ran.

I knelt beside the ditch and pressed my palm to the ground.

Water moved beneath me.

I could feel it slipping through layers of soil, carrying things I could not sense clearly. My magic recognized water, stone, heat, and motion.

It did not recognize disease.

The well had been repaired before the population surged. No one had planned for hundreds of tents or new trenches around it.

We had been building wherever space allowed.

Fast.

Too fast.

“Do not drink that!” Mary shouted.

People turned toward her.

“Put the buckets down. The western well is closed.”

A man holding two full pails frowned.

“I waited an hour.”

“The water may be contaminated.”

He looked into the bucket.

“It is clear.”

“That does not make it safe.”

“My children need water.”

“We will bring clean water from the eastern channel.”

“That is on the other side of the settlement.”

“I know.”

Others began protesting.

They were tired.

Their children were thirsty.

They had traveled for days because a golden symbol told them Greykeep had returned. Now we were telling them the nearest water might make them sick.

I climbed onto the well’s edge.

The complaints faded.

“The well is closed,” I said.

Someone near the back of the line called out.

“For how long?”

“Until we know it is safe.”

“We need water now.”

“I know.”

“What are we supposed to drink?”

I looked toward the castle.

Its original water channels descended from springs beneath the northern ridge. Several were blocked, but the Castellan had shown me their paths.

I could restore them.

Probably.

“We will open another channel.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Mary looked at me sharply.

I ignored her.

The man with the buckets lifted one.

“What do I do with this?”

“Use it for washing. Not cooking or drinking.”

A woman held a cup beside the well.

“My daughter already drank some.”

“Bring her to the eastern infirmary if she develops fever, pain, or sickness.”

Fear moved through the crowd.

That was worse than the anger.

I climbed down.

“Mary, find every healer.”

“We have only two.”

“Evelyn brought one.”

“Lady Valewood’s physician will not treat five thousand people.”

“He will tonight.”

She nodded and started writing.

“Close the latrine trench. Mark every tent downhill from this well. We need the names of anyone who drank from it during the last three days.”

“That could be hundreds.”

“Then we need more scribes.”

“We have nine registered now.”

“Use all of them.”

“What will you do?”

“Open the northern channel.”

“You are supposed to sleep.”

“People need clean water.”

“They also need a king who can stand tomorrow.”

“I can stand.”

My knee chose that moment to weaken.

Mary caught my arm.

“That was poorly timed,” I admitted.

“You cannot restore the channel alone.”

“I am the only one who can move enough stone.”

“No. You are the only one who can move it quickly.”

“That sounds like the same thing.”

“It is not.”

She pointed toward the masons building foundations near the shelters.

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