At the edge of the hamada, Appo stood atop a hill that gently sloped down to a rolling cliff face nearly thirty meters tall. This cliff face was continuous, extending east and west for leagues, with the exception of an abrupt flattening base where the city of Ash was squeezed into. A collection of two hundred buildings were condensed together between the cliffs, mostly homogenous with the exception of the massive four-story temple in its center. On its southern border lay a stone wall common to many Eivettän settlements, but there was none like it on its northern end. It simply faded into the desert, stretching out as far as Appo could see.

The first thing Appo noticed was Ash’s open gates. Nearly all cities, even those up north past the Thorne, maintained at least some sort of barricade around its borders. Even if the monsters weren’t a threat, surely bandits and raiders must be? Nevertheless, it seemed as if the city was open to the world. Ash had nothing to fear, for nothing could be feared more than the sun above and the air surrounding it. That, or perhaps the city had nothing to offer that was worth taking. Appo figured that was just as likely.

Ash was far from being the largest city that lay along the Thorne, so Appo was surprised to see a bustling metropolitan hub. Appo and Jere passed dozens of stands that adorned the outside of the entrance, each with merchants chanting their most enticing bargains. Hundreds of people walked amongst the stands, shouting and cursing at each other and themselves. Hues of ruby and teal and copper flooded the streets, as men and women in fabulous clothes bartered amongst each other. Beggars interspersed between the stands, some dutifully holding their hands out in penance. Others entertained with singing and prancing and chanting.

“Doesn’t look like a city in the midst of a plague,” Appo wondered aloud.

“Crowds are bigger than usual,” Jere muttered. “For the Holiday. Many risk death to be here.”

Appo and Jere rode their beasts through the crowd, which seemed to disperse without paying any extra mind. Appo looked past the sandstone buildings that marked the formal boundary of Ash. Like most desert settlements, the buildings rarely rose above a single floor. Carved into sharp rectangular edges and smoothed over, they had no semblance of artistic flair. They existed to create shade.

The stalls continued as the pair rode into the city. They seemed to sell a wide variety of nonessentials. Gemstones. Pottery. Necklaces and beads. Jars of dirt. Jars of shit. Jars of dirt and shit. The streets were wide, which allowed several rows of camels and elephants to ride past each other without impairing the stalls and their customers.

Jere raised his hand and his camel stopped. The elephant squeaked and halted as well, causing Appo to brace the front of his saddle. “Wait here and let me get the big man.” Jere hopped off his camel and walked into an adjacent building, leaving Appo alone with his thoughts.

Appo climbed off his elephant and rubbed behind its massive ear. He looked out at the crowd, trying to diagnose their ailments. He couldn’t help it; he always played this game when he was bored. Finding tooth rot was never hard, neither were the obvious facial tumors. A man with clubbed fingers walked by; that wasn’t especially common. Neither was the woman who walked with a gait that suggested a recently shattered hip. Appo pitied the man who strode with his left-hand swinging and his left foot dragging; he was too young to have suffered a stroke. Was the merchant across the street shaking his hand because he was angry, or was he afflicted with the shaking palsy? The one-eyed old man looking directly at him was blind.

“Hold on.”

Across the bustling street stood a hunched old man with a dark complexion. His wrinkly gray skin stood out even amongst the rags that counted as his clothes. He leaned forward on a wooden cane. He wore a turban that covered his head. Sand coated his entire body, including his silver beard, his worn eyepatch, and his bare sand-coated feet. What stood out even more was the man’s bright blue eye. Appo had seen that color hundreds of times amongst beggars who congregated outside of temples, which always seemed to glare upwards towards gods they tried to see, praying for their sight to return.

Yet this beggar was staring right at him. It pierced Appo’s soul. He couldn’t look away. He was so hypnotized that he jumped when a strong, slender hand grasped his shoulder.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, friend!” The voice was booming and proud. Appo turned to meet the voice. It belonged to a towering beanstalk of a man. His head was shaved and smooth, though he sported a black bushy beard. His attire was uniform in color and elegant: gold piercings to match his golden robe and golden necklace. His bracelets twanged as he removed his hand from Appo’s shoulder. He flashed a pleasant and disarming smile. The man was flanked by Jere on his right, and a smaller younger man on his left.

“Appo,” Jere spoke, “May I introduce to you, Boah Awil-Ishtar, head of the Awil-Ishtar household.” Jere’s tone was formal and unfamiliar with his usual blunt manner of speaking. It pained him to talk like that.

Boah chortled. “Now, now Jere. There’s no need for formalities to an honored guest! Please overlook my attire, Appo. You must think it gaudy, but I wear it out for respect of my late wife – she’d haunt me otherwise!” Boah appeared to be unable to finish a sentence without laughing at his own joke. Still, Appo found himself charmed.

“The pleasure is mine, sir. My condolences to your wife.”

“No worries. It was years ago, and she went peacefully.” Boah gestured to the man on his left. “This here is my son, Juddken. He works for the Guard Corps. He is my shadow, and soon I intend for him to take over my business.” Juddken silently bowed without expression, to which Appo bowed in return. He appeared like his father, only less so. He was slightly shorter, stockier, and wore considerably less jewelry. If he inherited his father’s charm, he did not show it.

“Thank you all for the warm welcome,” Appo replied. He was still a little shaken, as it wasn’t customary to touch another person anywhere in Ostior, even in the more metropolitan trading posts. Ash seemed full of surprises. “I’m shocked there are so many others. Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Appo nervously grinned at his own joke, hoping it would land. Boah chuckled.

“Yes, yes, you’ve come to the right place. Ash is the beating heart of the Eivettä, and the greatest source of trade this far from the coast. We’ve put in a lot of work, as you’ll see. Hard to believe this city was once sick.”

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“Once sick? You mean to tell me the plague has subsided?”

Boah flashed that classic merchant grin. “I believe so, Appo. During the last few moons, we’ve uncovered the source of this dreadful disease, and are in the process of dealing with it.” Boah turned. “May I lead us away from all this commotion? I’d like to show you what we’ve done.”

Boah moved towards a nearby alley, flanked by Juddken and three masked men. “Guards. I didn’t even notice them, where were they hiding?” Appo turned back to his elephant. Jere had just finished tying their riding companions to a nearby post. He grunted at Appo as he walked past. Appo followed the group down the alley, almost skipping to keep up with the large strides of Boah.

Appo looked back into the crowd for a moment. The old blind man was now looking away, seemingly lost in his own visions. Maybe Appo let his imagination run wild.

“Don’t let our crowds fool you, we very much have our city under control,” Boah began, “The traders are free to come and go as they please, but they only sell to outsiders. The entrance is open, as is the main street running to the temple. But no one goes outside of that.” Sure enough, after passing only one alley the crowds vanished. Other than the occasional guard and lone traveler, the roads were empty.

“We Ashfolk are proud people,” Boah continued. “We are also cautious. Most have locked themselves in their homes with little encouragement.”

Appo was impressed. Most people weren’t knowledgeable about diseases enough to quarantine themselves, and they rarely listened to authority that attempted to enforce it. He wondered how this tall man managed to pull it off.

“Jere never informed me what type of disease we’re dealing with here,” Appo replied. “Is it leprosy? Consumption? Scarlet fever?”

“None of those.” Boah seemed somewhat reluctant to answer. “But I can assure you we’ve taken care of its source.”

“And what would its source be?”

“The source of all diseases, Appo. You know this better than I do.” Boah turned morose, which looked unnatural on him. “It came from a wicked soul. Black magic with the intent to do harm to the innocent. A soul that is about to be removed from this plane.”

Appo’s pace slowed. He shouldn’t have been surprised. To most, diseases and curses were synonymous terms. Shamans certainly believed so. Even amongst the more educated and experienced healers, there was furious debate. Appo hated to admit it, but he actually didn’t know what a disease was. But he was certain it had nothing to do with magic. Leprosy didn’t care if you were rich or poor. The Warts of the Steppe was a common affliction even amongst the more magically inclined. It had no goal; it simply spread. All Appo had learned was how to treat it. He knew diseases had more to do with sanitation than the supernatural. Still, the phrase “I don’t know” never really sat well with people, regardless of how educated they were.

“Boah,” Appo asked, “who is this wicked soul you speak of?”

“A dirty shaman. I understand healers such as yourself don’t get along well with them. You’re right to be suspicious. She used her sinful blade and pierced the curse into the souls of the afflicted. You can see her for yourself.”

The group entered a small plaza. In its center stood a dozen men and women in beige and unfitted clothes, looking far removed from the more vibrant masses outside the city. They stood in front of three guards, who in turn stood in front of a pillory. Within the pillory was a pitiful young woman, her thin body stripped naked and her arms confined near her head. Her face was grossly misshapen, her eyes were swollen from bruises.

As Appo approached the crowd, he could make out their sudden gestures. They were furious. He was convinced that the guards would step aside if anyone dared to approach the woman. The sight made him sick to his stomach.

“This is barbaric.” Appo couldn’t stop the words coming out of his mouth.

Boah shook his head. “Perhaps. I understand it’s in your nature to alleviate pain, but I assure you, what she’s going through now is nothing compared to what she has conjured from that black heart of hers.”

A rock sailed from the crowd and slammed the edge of the pillory. Another followed shortly afterwards, hitting the woman in her cheekbone. An audible crunch echoed through the plaza, rousing the crowd to more jeering. The woman spat out a tooth and some blood.

Appo turned to Boah. “If you want my advice, let it be this: I can assure you this plague has nothing to do with this woman. Diseases are cruel, yes, but they’re natural. They have a source, and they flow like water. We need not jump to conclusions just yet.”

At that moment, the charming façade from Boah’s face vanished. The whites of his eyes contrasted with his dark skin and golden adornments. It looked as though he had seen a ghost.

“You’re a learned man, are you not?”

“I studied at the Healer’s Guild in Jyväsk. I apprenticed under the surgeon Parbast for five years and have spent three years practicing in just about every village, town, and gathering place along the Thorne. I know how plagues work.”

Boah approached. “I too am a learned man. I too have been to Jyväsk. I too have seen the underbelly of Ostior. I’ve read countless books and heard countless stories.” He leered his head past Appo’s, almost speaking directly in his ear with a cold sneer.

“There is nothing natural about this plague.”

Boah continued past Appo, with Juddken and his guards following. Appo looked forward, trying to lock eyes with the young woman. The side of her face was becoming blue. Another rock slammed against the pillory, missing her head by a finger’s length. Despite her youth, her eyes showed aged indignation. She knew she'd been condemned to die.

Jere came to Appo’s side. “I’m not a learned man, but I’m well-traveled. He’s right. Boah is a lot of things, healer, not many of them good. But I’ve never known him to be scared.” He paused. “There’s nothing the Gods could tell me to explain what I have seen. Boah and the other fools are trying to keep the Holiday going and I don’t agree with that, but if killing this woman takes the plague with it, so be it.”

Jere beckoned Appo to follow him. Appo did so, though Jere let out one last thought. “Don’t let the big man fool you. The people aren’t staying home because they were told to. They’re staying home because they’re too terrified to go outside.”

“What is going on here?”