Appo stepped forward next to Mendalla. He looked awkward and uncertain, as he didn’t have a clear platform to speak to the table. He cleared his throat a few times. “Hello everyone… I am Appo, as Mendalla mentioned.”
“We know,” Kirashi coldly replied.
“Ah… well, let me get right into it. I’ve spent more than two moons in Ash, and I’m the first to admit that that’s not nearly enough time to interpret everything. However, I’ve still uncovered much of the nature of this disease and much of how it spreads.”
Shimsusa shifted awkwardly in her chair. Urash almost chuckled. He had been listening to her prattle on and on about the nature of the curse, and how it had to be godly in nature. “This meeting would tear at her conscience, if she had one,” Urash thought.
Appo continued. “We know the disease spreads by blood. This includes scratching and biting. It does not seem to spread by physical touch alone, nor does it travel by air. Upon contact, the prodrome seems to take three moons to develop, the most common symptoms seeming to be insomnia, lack of appetite, fever, abdominal pain, anxiety, pruritis, and hyperalgesia. At some point, the infected pass into a second stage, which notably begins when they start screaming. The infected become hostile, and communication is no longer possible. They are overwhelmed by the desire to scratch themselves and no longer react to pain.”
Urash grimaced. He was always particularly sensitive to gory details. The others at the table seemed to be faring no better. Urash briefly locked eyes with Mendalla, who was the only one staring without expression.
“Eventually the infected begin extensive self-harm. They pull out their hair. Their eyes bulge and become bloodshot. The incessant screaming unhinges their jaws. Weight loss is rapid due to the inability to eat, and the infected’s joints become fused, leading to a distinctive locked shuffle. At this point, most organs have become completely liquified and defecated from the body. After this-“
“How long do you plan on prattling on, Appo?” Urash interrupted, his face still contorted from the mental image in his head. “Your descriptions are detailed and disturbing, but so are the stones I have to pass through my cock every other fortnight.” Hecklers from the sides of the room chortled in response.
“They don’t have to travel far,” shot back Harran, leading to laughter from his corner of the room.
Urash ignored him and focused on the healer. “Just tell us what you want from us. Just tell us that you think the holiday needs to be canceled and we should all stay at home because of a curse that we’ve already gotten rid of.”
Appo fell silent. Urash wasn’t surprised – his usually abrasive manner of speaking was enough to shut down anyone who he disagreed with. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what to make of the disease or the curse or whatever it was. He didn’t know for a certainty what exactly it was doing to the town, but it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t know anyone that was infected, and even if it were to spread, he had his guards to keep him safe. The only thing he knew he was in danger of losing was the profit to be made in the holiday, and that would be an utter certainty if Mendalla had her way.
Urash and Mendalla had always been opposed in their views, but their vendetta was deeper than petty politics. Urash recalled how many years ago her son, Amaren, had attempted to break into the spice business in Ash. He was a rambunctious, if foolish spirit, and had no interest in leadership like his mother. Urash had done what his family did to anyone who attempted to break into the trade; he lowered prices and held as many deals as possible. Maybe occasionally Amaren would lose a supply yak to “raiders” in the desert. Last Urash had heard, Amaren and his family had fled Ash, as they couldn't repay a loan to Beyshran debt collectors. Urash was never particularly bothered by the thought; Amaren had chosen the wrong profession, after all.
Mendalla was never pleasant to talk to after that. Not that Urash cared.
Appo had been standing silently for an uncomfortable amount of time. He finally spoke up after some of the jeering had died down. “That depends, sir. How many lives are you comfortable losing in the moons to come?”
“So, he has a backbone after all?” Still, Urash wasn’t persuaded. “Boy, you know little of our way of life. You ask me to consider this curse, but how many families do you think will starve if we don’t have this holiday? I am but a humble follower of Ati, but even I can put my differences aside when it comes to feeding my family. I’m sure many in Ash would agree.”
The Heads murmured amongst themselves. Urash had to suppress a laugh; arguing for profits was never enough to convince the more religious members but arguing in favor of the poor starving families typically did the trick. As if anyone in this room cared in the slightest.
Shimsusa cleared her throat. “Urash is right, even if he doesn’t speak for Okkan. Mendalla, think of the young ones. Besides, what would Okkan think if we cancel the Day of his kin? I say we continue forth with the witch’s exile and move forward.” A fervor of hands slapped the table in response.
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“I’m sorry ma’am,” said Appo, “but I’m afraid that getting rid of the witch won’t be enough to contain the disease. I think the disease was here before she was ever involved.”
Shimsusa gasped. “You’re treading the line of blasphemy, healer!”
Mendalla held up her hand to silence her. She looked back to Appo. “What do you mean by this?”
“I’m not saying she wasn’t involved. Many of the early victims of the disease were due to her hand, but her hand was unwilling in the matter. I have it on good authority that a guard named Twol, was infected before he ever saw her.”
“How can you be so sure?” Kirashi asked. “The witch herself claims responsibility.”
Appo lowered his head. “This ‘witch’, Malefica, is a shaman. A shaman pushed to the edge of society, living off herbs and latching to the desperate. She has only spoken to lowly gods and has never commanded respect in her life. In her exile, she commands fear, which is more than she has ever known. She told me that the first person she infected was Twol, but Twol was attacked by an infected person before he visited her. When the disease began to progress, Twol sought help and asked to be bloodletted. There, she touched the disease with her knife, and spread it to everyone who visited her afterward.”
“These are quite the accusations,” Urash began. “However, I don’t trust anything that woman would say. Furthermore, I’m curious to know how you are so knowledgeable about the symptoms of the accursed. How would you know about their organs, for example?”
As Appo began flustering a response, the doors burst open. Everyone turned to the source of the noise. Boah, leering tall and walking with a purpose, made his way to the front of the table. Urash noted his confidence; he had long envied Boah’s resolve, even if he disagreed with him on just about everything.
Mendalla snorted. “The disrespect you bring to this table is abhorrent.”
“Mendalla,” Boah began, “I have urgent news-“
“Not so urgent as to be on time for the meeting. Your conduct in the last few days has been abysmal, and honestly, it makes me ashamed to share my seat with someone with your candor. Please leave us.”
Boah locked eyes with Mendalla, speaking with little emotion. “Your son is dead.”
“What are you on about?”
“An inquiry into the trader Mena was conducted, and the curse was traced back to an old family home. There, Amaren Ealamassi was discovered tied to the bed, the curse having taken its toll on him. The acting guard on duty, Penzer, executed him on the spot. This was brought to my attention only moments ago.”
Mendalla didn’t say anything, as though the words she was hearing were being delivered in another language. “Why am I learning of this now?”
“Penzer covered it up. Guards under my watch informed me that he ordered it to not come to your attention. He is currently being disciplined as we speak.”
Several of the Heads gasped. Shimsusa began whispering prayers. Kyösti held his hands to his chest. Appo fell back, melting into the wall behind him.
Urash said nothing, as did Mendalla. They stared ahead expressionless, for once in complete uniformity.
“There’s more,” Boah continued, “upon further inquiry, we discovered that Amaren’s son had been scratched. As he is showing signs of being cursed, he is currently being held in quarantine. I wanted to let you know that you won’t be able to access him, upon your orders.”
Mendalla turned to Boah. “Son?” Her lower lip quivered. “He had a son?”
“I’m… sorry, Mendalla.”
For a brief moment, the room fell into total silence. Mendalla shook her head, propping it up with her hands. She then let out a deep, harrowing wail. Everyone stood in shock as Mendalla sunk into her seat, utterly defeated.
Urash looked at Boah. He looked into his eyes, sensing something other than pity. “Boah knows what he’s doing. He’s not lying, but how he’s presenting this to us, right now… No, what I’m seeing is victory. He just did what I’ve failed to do for years: he broke her.”
As Mendalla wailed at the loss of her family, Urash met her in spirit. In less than a minute, Boah had defeated his greatest adversary. Not only breaking her spiritually but making her look foolish as well. Her long-trusted guard was also out of the picture, and no one would be able to deny that Mendalla wasn’t mentally stable enough for the job, at least for now. That just left one person to take her place: Boah, the jewelry merchant who came from nothing.
Mendalla was escorted out of the room. Shortly after, the meeting was adjourned.