One does not simply confront the clergy of Knowledge. Doubly so if one is in the employ of an organization that requires the cooperation of the church of Knowledge and lacks the family connections that would shelter one from being fired for gross incompetence. Triply so, if the clergy in question is bronze rank and oneself is iron rank.
So if the clergy in question suddenly decides after a wild dash that a day of rest and aura training is in order, Russell doesn’t object. Being paid for resting isn’t bad. It beats leading degenerate aristocrats to water link chambers. And aura training does not hurt either. After a time, though, the question whether all this could be done in facilities a tad more comfortable than a tent in the dusty veldt arises.
RC: Your tea, priestess. May I enquire when we shall proceed.
GP: You may, but I don’t know.
RC: You don’t know?
GP: You sound surprised. Although I may be repeating myself, Knowledge does not know the future. If our path depends on a decision somebody hasn’t made so far, Knowledge won’t know until the decision will have been made.
RC: I see. That makes sense … But couldn’t we wait in the next fortress town? It would be less sandy.
For a fraction of a second she stares into the void.
GP: I regret not informing you earlier. My goddess prefers for people to find out things by themselves. The next fortress town is under quarantine due to an epidemic.
RC: What?
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The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Misandra is wheeled through the dungeon on a wheeled X-shaped cart. Parts of her not for public display are in full view. She stares at the ceiling and no longer cares. They have smeared healing ointment on her and an essence user has control over certain bodily functions with training to mitigate injury and to control ovulation. The physical damage is already healed.
The first time she memorized the face to learn whom to kill in revenge. Then she looked only at the ceiling.
The cart opens a door by banging into it. The hooded man is expecting her. They both remain silent. Eventually she gives up just to be rid of him.
„Got what you wanted?“
„No, I got what I intended. What I want will come later.“
He turns and leaves.
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ES: We have about one and a half time the number of sick we ought to have. People who handled our mounts here are not affected. However, people from the stable in the village your aunt portaled us to to get our heidels are among the sick.
Their archer, Graham Bloom, looks worried.
GB: What have you done?
ES: I have isolated all the people from that village who are sick. I’ve also put our heidels into a stable of their own.
GB: Have you given them potions?
ES: No, I wanted to talk to you first. We certainly do have enough potions for those now sick, but if the number keeps growing …
DS: No potions for civillians.
ES: What?
GB: What?
Derrick sighs.
DS: It kills Heidels. We think, but we are not sure, that it also infects people. We need to know how bad it is. If it is a rash and a few days with a fever, we try to get the Adventure Society to pay for the Heidels and write this mission off. If it kills people we need to handle this differently.
ES: Anything else?
DS: Yes. We need precautions. Talk to the headmen and have them select a few reliable men. Arm them with staffs from the stock. We segregate the villages. Nobody is allowed to meet somebody from another village. Have them draw up schedules for the kitchens, dining halls and wash houses. And from today on we have a curfew at night.
GB: They are not going to like that.
DS: That’s why our auxillaries are getting staffs.
GB: That may work, but they still are not going to like it.
DS: I don’t care. And somebody brief Walker when he comes down from his watch on the guard house.
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Rod Geller sees the road. He decides to follow it to the place they stashed the broken skimmer.