The Caravan Road by Jeffrey Quyle Page A

to move, we’ll try to get out of the city to some place safe.”
    Alec gave a slight nod, then closed his eyes.  He rapidly dozed off, and Carla sat beside him a while longer, his relaxed hand still atop hers on his shoulder.  She was worried, though thankful he was still alive.  She had screamed in terror when an arrow had bolted from the roof of a building near the palace and pierced all the way through his chest from the back, its point protruding from the front of his chest, evidence of the force with which it had been shot.  She and Charls had immediately grabbed Alec and begun to hurry him away, as a squad of guards from the palace had come charging towards them.
    The small collection of Alec’s converted supporters had put up a brief and unsuccessful street battle against the palace forces, who were led by an Ajacii, but the battle had lasted long enough for Carla to lead the other two to safety in her own home.  Her mother had made the decision to draw the arrow out, a procedure Carla had been unable to stand to watch, then they had bandaged Alec and hidden him and Carla up in the attic just minutes before palace forces had knocked on the door and stormed into the house, as they did every other house in the vicinity, looking for Alec and the others.
    Charls was hidden in a nearby house, and Carla had spent the day there with him, waiting until dark before she stealthily returned to her own home and Alec.  She and Charls had talked during the day, telling each other all that they could about Alec, Carla trying to explain the few brief hours she had seen him, and Charls recollecting the times in years past when Alec had been involved in the governance of his duchy.  And Charls had provided a comforting presence for Carla, who had lost her father and then lost the security of Alec’s presence in the same day.  Charls was a steady man, one who recognized her emotional strain and reacted sympathetically, letting her talk throughout the day about her father, providing the opportunity for her to release a portion of the pain and frustration that had bottled up inside her.
    It was Charls who recollected a possible way to help his duke heal more quickly.  “The duke showed me a patch of plants in the palace garden that he said he had brought from an estate near Eckerd.  He said the plant could cure anything,” Charls confided to Carla.  “If I can get back into the palace, I could pick some and bring it back to heal him.”
    Carla sat silently, pondering a return to the palace.  “I can get you into the palace garden,” she said at last, “if you’ll go along with my plan.”
    “What plan is that?” Charls asked, leaning forward, studying the girl intently.
    “I will go to the gate of the palace, and tell them that my elderly mother wishes to see the flowers in the palace gardens one time before she dies.  The guards will let a harmless girl in, I suspect, especially with her frail mother, and then we’ll go find the duke’s plant, pick some, and leave,” she said in a straightforward manner.
    “I suspect the guards will gladly let such a pretty girl into the palace,” Charls said, pleasing Carla with his gallant comment.  “But how will you and your mother know which plant to pick in the garden?”
    “This is the best part!” Carla said with a sparkle in her eye.  “You’ll be dressed up as my mother!  You’ll be able to go in and pick the right plant!”
    Charls reared back abruptly, his eyes widening.  “You can’t be serious!”
    “You can do this; this is for Alec!  This is for your duke,” Carla spoke emphatically.  “This may be the only way.  You saw that arrow sticking all the way through him; he’s not going to recover from that without something extraordinary, maybe this plant you say he told you about.”
    “If we’re caught, I’ll go back to the dungeon, or execution,” Charls said.  “You’ll suffer the same, but not right away.  Are you really willing to