The Plague, a dread that loomed over all who lived, serving as a harbinger of death and shattered families. It whispered of desolate cities, of lives abandoned. In his youth, he scarcely pondered the Plague's threat, sheltered in the sparse, icy north. Its talons never reached him there, for lives were claimed by the journey itself. But when he took to the seas as a sailor, whispers of its horrors reached his ears.
Cities laid to waste; bodies reduced to ash in towering pyres. He comprehended the possibility of its resurgence yet clung to the hope of its prolonged slumber. And now, faced with the prospect of Raven Hill's fall, could the dreaded Plague extend its reach to Kohar? Reid acknowledged the truth. The possibility was real, and he was compelled to act.
Amberline and her child must be shielded, even if just through a warning. But a duty shackled him to this place, though solutions eluded him. This plague, an insidious specter, resisted cures, its path through a city unstoppable. Reid had long suspected that swift containment, burning out the root of infection, was the answer. But when one's beloved was at risk, the certainty wavered.
"Plague claimed him," Reid said softly. He looked to the doorway, then to Lord Mora. "If Master Jacob touched the body with bare hands, I would suggest isolation until it is determined he has not been afflicted as Mother Lacoco’s men. If I may ask, how long did it take before the men who found the body began to show signs of the illness?
“I am sure you are aware of the impact this will have on the city. The village of Raven Hill must be isolated as soon as possible.” He looked once more towards the body. Then back to Lord Mora. “Have I confirmed Master Jacob’s own opinion?”
Lord Mora remained stationed at the sole entrance to the compact room, a barrier between Reid, the deceased, and the outside world. The Aeth’s gaze lingered on him, a discomfiting pause that stretched too long. Then, his voice resonated with an unsettling, melodic cadence.
"One has made an opinion. Now an offer will be made. One will find a cure for this affliction. In return, those who watch one's woman, her lover, and their child will continue to simply watch. And," he finally had a small smile on his pale face, "one will only provide this cure to those we deem worthy."
He gestured to the body with two fingers. "This is chaos. This is opportunity. And the Council are ever ones to take advantage of opportunity."
Reid's thoughts hung suspended at the proposal's echo. It was a proposition he couldn't rebuff – the specter of harm looming over Amberline and her family was a persuasion impossible to resist. By accepting, he tethered himself to Lord Mora's whim, a puppet in his hands. Yet, what recourse lay in his grasp? With no men of arms of his own, no sway, he simply had no power.
But the task at hand was monumental. Reid’s theories aside, this city’s understanding of healing scarcely wrought true cures. Illnesses were appeased, recoveries hastened, yet curing remained a mirage. Especially for a virulent scourge such as the Plague.
Resources, beyond his means, were mandatory. He pondered, then voiced his resolution. "Of course I will accept, Lord Mora. But if I may be candid; pledging a certain cure for the Plague Is not something I am sure I can guarantee. If feasible, I will do so, yet such an endeavor mandates far more resources than I have available to me."
He laid bare his predicament. "If I am to have any chance, I will need resources; funds, and access to artisans and requisite materials. The Plague's nature, its origins, and remedy require exhaustive study."
“This is not a plea. I am endeavoring to provide an honest assessment of my needs to fulfill your goal.”
Lord Mora inclined his head. "One will have all one would desire to accomplish this feat. But the longer one takes, the faster this fire will consume all in its path." He stared at Reid with his flat-looking eyes. "Friend, family, and children alike. We will be...redirecting refugees from Raven Hill to...other locales. Only we know of this opportunity, and one will assist us in making full use of it."
Reid's demeanor remained unflinching upon learning of the scheme. Logical, really – harnessing a plague for dominance and sway. Unleash the scourge upon rival domains, cities, and hamlets, and subsequently peddle the antidote, or employ it as a bargaining chip. As with all things related to the Aeth, it was cunning and brutal.
More than mere approval, one would think he should harbor a deeper sentiment. Yet Reid hailed from the frigid north, where practicality equaled survival. He'd thrived as a trader, where outwitting others spelled the difference between triumph and ruin. Recent years in Stolikar had etched a stark ethos – utility alone ensured existence. Idealism held little sway; self-preservation was paramount.
The Aeth turned to open the door, and Master Jacob came through by some unseen prompting. He looked to Reid, then to Lord Mora. "If he is half the healer he claims, he will have confirmed it is simply berry pox. Perhaps a more severe strain, but nothing that Quern's wort tea will not help with the swelling." He was a bit pale under his silvered hair and plaited beard, his staff tapping quietly on the stone floor as he came in.
The Aeth looked at him impassively, then gestured towards the body. "One has an interesting opinion. Perhaps you will look closer and re-examine what one has found," he said softly.
Master Jacob seemed unsure at this point, then passed a withering look to Reid, and with a nod, perhaps to himself, moved to examine the body once more.
Reid knew what Master Jacob was going to do, and could not help himself. He bore no true ill will towards the man, so he spoke up a warning. “Perhaps a pair of gloves, Master Jacob?” he suggested, pulling out another pair.
Master Jacob looked askance at Reid's suggestion with that arrogant look he so often had when they had interacted in the past. "Berry pox is passed among those of poor and malnourished blood. Stout constitutions such as mine are not affected by those diseases of the farmer and poor."
"Master Jacob-" Reid began to plead. Regardless of how this man treated him, he could not let the man simply die because of his archaic ideas. But Old Jacob simply ignored him and leaned over, looking at the body, and as Reid watched, the other healer opened the dead man's mouth with his bare hands. He reached into one of his many pockets along his kilt and pulled out a small dagger as he reached into the man's mouth, the blade cutting in and around the open throat. Something burst in the man, and a small squirt of blood misted out to cover Jacob's hands.
He turned to pull out a clean swatch of cloth to wipe at his hands and cleaning his dagger, put the cloth back into his pocket. He shook his head at Reid as if he were an idiot, then looked to Lord Mora. "As I stated earlier, it is my opinion this is simply a stronger version of berry pox. The markings along the throat are the same, albeit larger. I have seen this before, and there is nothing that cannot be addressed quickly and calmly."
Old Jacob began to move towards the door when Lord Mora held up his fingers, stopping Jacob where he stood. "One will wait without," he said as he opened the door, looking at Reid.
He swallowed as Jacob looked at him, and all Reid could see was a dead man as he turned to walk out of the small atrium to the larger room beyond. Mother Lacoco was still sitting on that sagging sofa while the door closed behind Reid. She smiled at him with those sharp, yellow, and jagged teeth. She looked to the closed door, then back to Reid. "Ahf you-a going to be a cleber boy for Mofer?"
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Reid heard the door to the small chamber click shut behind him, the faint sound of Old Jacob’s voice raised in a question. He straightened, reflexively running a hand down his stiff, red tunic.
“I will do my best, as always good Mother.” He breathed in before continuing. “I would suggest that Master Jacob be placed in isolation, somewhere where few people travel?”
“As I explained to Lord Mora, I will need resources and access to certain craftsmen. I wish to begin as soon as possible.” His mind was already racing ahead, cataloging at least a dozen different avenues of investigation. He realized with a small flush in his stomach. He was excited. This sickened him when he examined himself, but he could not deny it. This was a challenge, and this excited his mind. Find a cure for an incurable plague.
Mother Lacoco had an odd gleam in her eyes at the mention of Old Jacob. "We-a be taking care off-a da ol man," she said with a sibilant tone and her tusk-twisted accent. "He-a not ahf cleber as my boy." She seemed to take some enjoyment on accenting that last word just a bit more than the others, her crocodilian smile wide in her green-hued face.
She looked to the outer door before raising her voice. "Prenar!" The Aeth-touched who had guided Reid into the keep and to this fate-filled meeting came in at once. He stood there, looking from the giant orcish clan leader to Reid, waiting. She looked back to Reid. "Prenar, he haf-a be speaking with-a Mofer's voice. You tell-a Prenar, he get. You-a say, he do."
Reid noticed by this time that the inner door had not reopened, and Lord Mora nor Old Jacob had come out yet, and it was deathly silent within. Mother Lacoco looked at Reid with that smile still on her face. "Mora, he-a speak like-a ahf lady, pretty pretty with-a many words. You-a listen and haf understand Mofer”, her grin widened to expose more of her filed teeth.
“I...will...eat...your lady...bayyybeee, and you will-a haf watch,” she enunciated her threat slowly and clearly. There was no confusion about whose child she was speaking of. It did not escape his attention that both Lord Mora and Mother Lacoco knew of Amberline and her whereabouts.
Reid felt queasy, and he was sure this was not from any touch of the plague. He was trapped in a city, in a world of horrible violence and ruthlessness. What was a good...man... to do in a world like this? Anything necessary.
He turned to Prenar with a small nod. “I will need several items, including,” Reid began to list a collection of various herbs and pieces of equipment before stopping. Reid noticed he was simply looking at him while he recited his list. Reid paused. "Em...shall I write this down for you?" he asked tentatively.
Mother Lacoco gave a rumbling chuckle that sounded phlegmy. "Prenar-a haf a goob memory. Nefah forget a ting."
The Aeth-touched looked to Reid, his voice quietly self-assured. "Speak your needs and I will ensure you will receive what you require." Mother Lacoco waved her fat finger, and still, no one came out of the small room where, as far as Reid could see, there were no exits. "Now-a go off and do this ting," lifting the massive goblet to her lips to slurp at whatever was in its depths.
***
It had been late afternoon when he had been...requested to meet with the representatives of the Black, and it was now after sunset by the time he had returned home with Prenar and his large, tattooed companion, who went simply by the name of Mab. Whether that was a shortening of a name or a title, Reid could not tell and Mab did not seem inclined to expand on that nor any subject Reid tried to bring up.
By the time they had reached his home, Reid saw a small crowd had gathered there. He instantly recognized several of the faces. They were all the artisans that he had visited with that day, and each one carried satchels or boxes with them. They were, to a man, looking quite anxious at the approach of Reid and his assistants to the front gate.
They seemed to all try to vie for his attention at once. "Master Reid! Master Reid!" they called out, all moving forward to show that they had somehow taken what would have been the work of days and instead finished what he needed in hours to build his viewing device. Two of the artisans almost came to blows to push closer to him, if only to show they had finished what he needed, or in the case of the glassblower, showed him the first small collection of several lenses he said his family were grinding and sanding and would have for him by midnight if he were awake.
They didn't get too close, and Reid spared a glance to Prenar in confusion. He had that same bored expression on his face as he looked back to the healer. "Everyone you were seen visiting today was motivated by their good conscience to make anything you ask their highest priority." He said in that smooth, quiet voice of his, quite unlike the singsong, almost chanting of Lord Mora.
Reid sighed. No doubt, like himself, many of these artisans' families were the coin against which made their sudden, manic workmanship possible. He opened the gate and ushered this crowd into his front rooms, where he had them lay out their work on the floors and the low tables there. There were the leather tubes, the clasps holding them into a firm shape, but which allowed him to adjust it to allow for larger or smaller lenses. Here were the lenses themselves, incomplete, but for now, he had enough to begin his journey into seeing that which he suspected must lie there. Glass slides, brass gears for the adjusting of the device so that several turns would only move it a hairsbreadth up or down for the fine focus he would need.
He nodded to himself. The remaining lens would be here in hours, but he had what he initially needed. Reid looked up to the group of frightened, quiet men. "Thank you all. This is fine work, and is precisely what I have asked for." There was an unheard sigh of relief as several shoulders unclenched. "Now, please, return home. I may have more that I will need, but this is certainly sufficient for now. I will send payment onward to you." They looked to Prenar, who was simply watching the proceedings, seemingly uncaring.
"Now, please, good night to you all." He escorted them to the door, seeing that Prenar and Mab were still inside while the artisans left outside. Prenar looked to Reid. "We'll be setting up here. Want to make sure you have what you need when you need it."
Reid knew better than to fight it, but he had to draw the line somewhere. "Very well. Make yourself at home, but you may not enter my workshop. I will be working on some delicate experiments, but I must be left alone."
Prenar looked at Reid, then shrugged. "Fine. Now what else do you need?" Reid pressed his lips tight together. "I don't know what I need yet. That is the problem." He had a sudden thought. "But...if you are to help, I need information. I need a precise timeline of the sickness. Whoever can report it, even if it is a trader's rumor, will help. And I need access to the Sisters of the Arbiter and their library." The Aeth-touched looked slightly surprised for once.
The Sisters of the Arbiter were known as the true magical healers of this land, at least as far as the trade rumors and bard's tales spread. The Arbiter was considered by some to be a mad deity, his workings mysterious even to his... followers. The Sisters were his faithful followers, and on occasion, some of them were selected to be imbued for his special adepts. The Arbiter, sometimes known as the Betrayer or the Trader, bestowed incredible healing powers to the Sisters. But to become a Sister meant to give up something. That could mean anything. Some went blind, some mute, some became crippled. And in return, they could...trade healing for pain. They could heal a child's broken leg, for example; but only if the mother or father would take on that pain, no matter how temporary. And the Sister who negotiated that trade felt all that pain and more during this process.
It was because of this taking on of the pain and sickness that no Sister had ever been heard of bringing back to life to the dead. Because that type of trade, if one followed the logic to its natural course, meant it could only occur once for that Sister.
While Reid might have at one point wanted to understand that power, to quantify it, that was not his goal now. The Sisters did not always use this power, not when other, perhaps less painful means of healing were available to them. They were steeped in the knowledge of natural healing also, but were known to guard that information jealously. And they were known to be great archivists of this type of knowledge.
He had tried for years to be allowed to enter their library, but it was closed to none but those of the Sisterhood. This is why Prenar's look of surprise was perfectly normal for this request. Reid pressed the moment. "This is a matter of healing. The Black, or at least Lord Mora and Mother Lacoco, want this plaque not only healed but the source and cure in their hands. The Sisters might be able to address it, but they will heal it with their...magicks, leaving Lord Mora and the good Mother without their goals met. I need the scrolls from their library here in Stolikar."
Prenar looked at Reid, his surprise gone from his face. "And which scrolls and books will you require?" he asked with a silky smooth voice.
Reid looked down at the opened boxes and carefully arranged pieces to his new device, already seeing how they would fit together in his mind in the thought plays that never stopped running. He did not look up as he replied, his mind busy as always.
"All of them.”