[Sarytharn City — Southern Quarter — Midday]
Sarytharn no longer smelled like a city.
It smelled like medicine, fear… and poisoned water.
The southern quarter had been emptied before midday. Every serpent had been forced indoors, doors barred, windows shuttered, while imperial guards blocked every lane leading toward the public channels. Healers in pale robes moved from house to house carrying bowls of antidote paste, fever herbs, and sealed flasks of clean water, their footsteps hurried, their expressions grim.
No one was allowed near the fountains; no one was allowed near the cisterns, and fear hung over the city like a second sky.
Zeramet dismounted first; the moment his boots touched the stone, every guard and healer in sight bowed deeply.
"We greet the Malik of Zahryssar."
Zeramet did not waste a glance on ceremony. "Get back to work."
