An order came down the line when the<em>Mercy's </em>crew spotted Medb racing to intercept. Two by two sealed crates passed her by en route for the waiting wagons, until finally, in their harsh guttural language, the men decided between them that one should be opened.<br/><br/>Heavy it thumped on the sticky-sweet surface of a laissez-faire, open-air tavern. Under sealing nails a careless prybar gouged into the pine box, and pried, creaking, to reveal the treasures within. Bolts of fabric, all bleak gray as a dreary, drizzly Port-a-Lucine morning, were up for barter. Vervain florets, succulent maguey and bundle of betony from the mainland unpacked, ground turmeric sealed in glassware and root of orris preserved in oil, along with the many chemicals demanded of the doctor's laboratory. Wrapped in twine came the publications of the day, the yearning of an inquisitive mind isolated high up on the hill, but for Medb's perusal, for a fee.<br/><br/>The haggling was hindered by absence of a shared language, but a vocabulary of gesture and simple words developed in time. There was a market, if crude.<br/><br/>Off of the gangplank stepped Doctor Rehner as if from a daydream, and regarded the dire straits of the ladies gathered there on the docks. Her hands were bloodied, her frayed green robe was stained, wringing clean in linen towel.<br/>"Baykur came on a raft one day," said Rehner. "She was the last survivor of a doomed ship like yours."<br/>At each thought her witchblooded eyes scanned quickly, to confirm her message had been conveyed in a language become stiff with disuse. "The pirates got to them. She was almost starving to the bones of her companions. Her wounds were inflamed and gangrenous. There are not many fates worse than the slow death by inches. I do not know what she got alive, but that is Baykur."<br/><br/>"She recovered from the doctor's care. Up turned a harder woman than I have known. I feel she will not die here, she is so stubborn. But when she is able and able, it is best that you have moved on. Do you agree?"<br/>"These wagons," she indicated with a tip of marcelled copper curls, "make the trip to the Asylum."<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Aloisa's Perception</div><div class="spoiler_body">There were eyes on the docks from the forest. The very keenest senses counted nine large wolves, watching cautiously from the high treeline and pacing through the shadowed growth shy of the well-traveled road. If they be of the dire variety, they must be runts, or else exceptional specimens of an ordinary breed.<br/><br/>Beyond these woods, high on the cliffs, the asylum manor stood surrounded by imposing walls. A sharp eye could spy frequent iron spikes atop the wall, arranged against escape.<br/><br/>Though the full course of the road could not be espied through the dense wood, there appeared no clearing before the manor grounds. Perhaps something lay on the far shore, beyond this steep ascent.</div></div><br/><br/>Through the brisk business of the dock, Doctor Rehner approached Faelyn.<br/>"Are you the one with so many questions about weather?" she asked, but pressed on, for there was no mistaking a stranger such as she on the island.<br/>"These are people whose ship was conquered by a violent storm. Maybe you will be the one to bring the story from them."