Jere was terrible at meditation. He picked up the practice many years ago during his travels. He recalled the tranquility of its practitioners, how they seemed so at peace, and how they utterly removed themselves from their surroundings. It was a magnificent ability, and despite years of practice Jere never quite got it right. He often found himself staring at the inside of his eyelids waiting for something to happen. It frustrated him more than it relaxed him.
The fact that he could be dead in a few moons did little to keep his mind from racing. He kept thinking of Main Street. Distended jaws. Flailing arms. Blood erupting from necks. He feared he’d see these images for the rest of his life.
“Add it to the rest of them,” Jere thought.
Having lost his battle against enlightenment, Jere grunted and opened his eyes. He was at home, where he had been quarantined since this morning. He was to stay there for the next two moons unless he developed any symptoms. He hadn’t been moved to the cordon, partially because he had no scratches from his encounter on the street. He suspected that his relatively good standing with the Heads played a role in his special treatment. He appreciated their kindness, but he still felt like he was going mad. Always a minimalist, Jere had little in his room to keep himself occupied for long. He had sharpened his new scimitar more times than needed, and already counted all the cracks in his walls. Three hundred and forty-seven. He couldn’t imagine being locked away in solitary confinement.
“How was your meditation, sir?” The guard, Adok, entered the room. He was young, dedicated, and diligent. It annoyed Jere to no end.
“Fine.”
Technically Jere was free to do as he wished, but Mendalla saw fit to ensure that he was incentivized to stay home for as long as possible. Adok was the poor fool chosen for the duty and had been working tirelessly since then. Jere had known of the guard from his skill at archery, but because Adok was too young to drink, Jere knew little else about him. He had made sure Jere was well-supplied, checked in multiple times, and kept him busy with conversation. Granted, Adok was mostly the one talking.
“I like that you meditate, sir,” Adok said, “my uncle used to practice meditation, but now he prefers using the weed flower. He says it’s more beneficial to your soul and it brings on enlightenment faster. He’s even tried Drawstring, that Merkamensan flower, and told me of all sorts of visions he'd see. I’d like to try it at some point, the job gets stressful for sure.”
Jere didn’t like the idea of dying, but after listening to Adok ramble for hours on end, it suddenly didn’t seem like a bad alternative.
A loud knocking on the door interrupted Adok’s tangent. Adok quickly pivoted towards the door, grabbing his sword and unsheathing it. He braced against the door, taking on a professional tone. “State your name and business before you proceed any further.”
“Um… Appo Ilonnorot,” the voice said, “I’m visiting Jere.”
“Jere is undergoing isolation and must refuse guests at this point in time. You can leave a message with me if you wish and I’ll relay it to him.”
Jere wasn’t about to deal with this for the next hour. He got up from his bed and pushed the young guard aside. Adok yelped, regaining his posture as Jere reached for the door. “Don’t let him in! We don’t know whether he’s cursed! He could be an enemy!”
“I’ll handle myself, guard. I’d prefer to listen to anyone else right now.” Jere opened the door and backed away. Appo was sweaty, as though he had just run through the city. Jere chuckled. “Being in a hurry can kill a man in Ash, healer. What brings you here?”
Before Appo could say anything, Adok jumped between the two. He started frisking Appo, checking for scratches and cuts on his forearms and legs. “I have to clear you before you’re allowed to pass. I’m under direct authority to check anyone who comes through.”
Jere grunted. “Sorry about the guard. He’s very passionate.” He walked over to the two, prompting Adok to recoil. “May I remind you that your services are ‘recommended’, not a direct command, no? You should take a break.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“My duty is to serve the Corps and they have entrusted me with you. I won't leave my post.”
Jere leered at Adok, halving their distance. Jere could be incredibly intimidating if he wanted to be. “Take a walk, Adok. Clear your head. If you don’t, you’ll need to restrain me. Remind yourself why that could be a bad thing.”
Adok held his head high but backed towards the door. “I’m going to discuss this with Penzer. If he disagrees, Appo will have to leave.”
“We’ll behave.”
Adok nodded and shuffled away as quickly as possible. As the door shut, Jere sighed. “He’s a good lad, but he’s driving me mad. Can’t stop talking about weed flower and his uncle.”
“He’s young and excited, I wish more were like him," replied Appo. "How have you been, Jere?”
Jere shook his head. “Oh, I’m great. I killed a woman, saw a friend kill himself, I could have the plague, and I share a room with the hardest working guard in the city. Pretty sure I’m not sick though, so that's nice.”
Appo pulled out a flask from around his belt and offered it to Jere. “You can have some of my spirit. I use it for wound care and it tastes terrible, but it’s no different than what you’ll find at Eevi’s. It’ll help with the relaxation.”
Without a second thought, Jere grabbed the flask and took a generous sip. “Don’t sell yourself short. This is far better than Eevi’s. Not bad for an ignoramus.”
Appo smiled. “Do you know any other insults, Jere?”
Jere ignored this and handed the flask back to Appo. “What brings you here?”
“I just finished my conversation with the shaman. It was… interesting. But I confirmed one thing: she didn’t start the plague.”
Jere walked over to his bed and sat down. “Of course the witch would deny it. What makes you think she would tell you the truth?”
“That’s the thing, Jere: she didn’t deny it. She said she started it. Insisted it, actually.”
“Huh. Doesn’t that make things easier on our end?”
“That’s just it!” Appo leaned against the wall. “I questioned her and played along with her story. If she started the plague, she would’ve willingly told me who her first victim was. We would have discovered his name. Instead, she told me the first person she infected was the cell guard, Twol.”
“What are you saying?”
“It means that plague didn’t start with the shaman! She spread the disease to others with her knife. She’s convinced her god told her to do it, but she never realized what she was doing. She’s innocent, and it means that Twol and the person who attacked him never got it from her.”
“I don’t know if that makes her innocent, healer.” Jere rubbed his chin. “She’s still responsible for spreading it to everyone. They all died because of her. And if she’s openly claiming that she started it… that’s a hopeless battle any way you look at it.”
“I know," Appo sighed. "The whole thing makes our situation more complicated. We still don’t know the identity of this first person, and I don’t want to risk returning to the cells to find them. I’ve been talking to people all over the city and no one knows anything. I feel like I’m at a dead end, and there’s still so much we need to learn.”
“No one ever said this job would be easy, healer.”
“I never expected it to… But I still need more access. I need to learn as much as possible about this plague, but I keep running into obstacles. The guards won’t let me into the cordon, and all of the infected are either dead or locked away.” Appo began pacing around the small room, lost in thought. “What I need to do is an autopsy.”
Jere sighed. “There’s a better chance of the witch becoming a Head tomorrow than that. Why on Ostior would you want to rip apart a dead body?”
“Corpses tell a story; they tell us what organs are attacked, how long they were attacked, and so much more. Medicine has come so far by looking at the dead. You may find it despicable, but it is a valuable tool that I learned in Jyväsk. It’s not as if any harm comes to them.”
“And you wonder why people don’t like healers.”
Appo became lost in thought again. He was formulating a plan. The strides in his pacing grew. “The woman… Mena… I understand her body is being held in the temple, correct?”
“Mendalla has chosen her and Duncic to be buried on the Day of Akkavan in accordance with the sacred ritual. It’s complicated, though. Both worshiped Ati. To be buried, their bodies will be preserved and stored there for the next two moons, in order to ‘convert’ them into acceptance with Okkan. It’s a bizarre process. I have no idea how it works, but I guarantee the priests don’t either. They typically don’t perform ceremonies on non-believers.”
“Do you know where they are specifically being stored?”
Jere raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like this line of questioning, healer… I’m unsure, but it would have to be somewhere private and somewhere sacred. I could think of a chamber or two where they could be.”
“And only priests can enter these chambers, correct?”
Jere’s eyes widened. He stood up from his bed, placing himself in Appo’s pacing circle. “Okay healer, if you plan on doing what I think you’re doing, I don’t want a part in it.”