the sickness is rising. Who: Amos & Peony What: Contagion and tea. Where: Monastery When: Backdated 5:00am, Saturday Rating: PG Status: Complete
Dawn had yet to break over the horizon when the priest and the councilwoman met. While a later arrangement might have been more convenient, Amos was well-accustomed to Peony’s disposition. She was not the sort to demand another’s earliest convenience unless there were a matter of profound urgency to be addressed. And so the priest had accommodated. Fortunately, the early morning did not present the priest with much difficulty. It was not as though he were a man who slept much; the descriptor ‘well-rested’ had as much place in Amos’s life as profligacy might have had in his profession.
The priest was therefore no different from usual as he poured Peony a cup of tea (floral, as she had suggested). “What appears to be the matter?” he prompted at length, setting down the pot and attending to his own cup.
Peony’s expression, for someone who knew her, could best be described as edging towards grim as she took up her cup and sipped at the tea. “You know that we dispatched two of our best healers to Cammon in the Outlands. I have their notes for you.” She slid a slim folder over the table. Cormac and Sabina had, fortunately, worked quickly to get her what she had asked for. “As you will see,” she said, “the cause was not determined, nor indeed was the nature of the illness. I am told it has some characteristics of poison, and some of magic. There were some villagers cured.” She paused. “Not nearly all who were infected, due to the very brief window in which treatment had the potential to be successful.”
She sat and waited for him to leaf through the notes before saying quietly, “The Rangers have now encountered it elsewhere, and not only in humes -- nor, indeed, in areas of relative civilization.”
Amos looked over the papers as she spoke, mind working swiftly to absorb the details he had not encountered in his own exposure to the illness. The other mages’ methods of treatment were given especial attention—already, the priest was holding them up against his own, reflecting upon how he might streamline their combined efforts into a systematic process.
For all his musings, however, he did not fail to hear her words and the gravity behind them. “Where has it last been seen?” Amos asked mildly. Of late, the possible spread of the pathogen had been one of his foremost concerns. Not only in humes. If animals were now vectors as well, then his worst projections were not so farfetched as he had initially dismissed them to be. The thought brought him no comfort.
She withdrew a copy of the map she had assembled now, setting it in the table. She did not think he would miss the pattern as the instances of illness came inexorably closer. “If it continues spreading at this rate, we have some time,” she said. She was uncertain if they would, but at this point, all that they could do was hope. “Regardless, unless it is stopped in the Outlands, we will see it here before the winter, I think.”
Returning to her tea, she continued, “The Mages’ Guild will be taking some precautionary measures, and symptom and treatment information is being distributed to public and private clinics. An antidote has been commissioned, but I am uncertain if this will amount to anything. Any assistance you and the Church healers can offer would be welcome. We are attempting to remain discreet, for the moment, though that may change.” The public would not react well to this news, and widespread panic would help no one.
“Certainly,” the priest said immediately. He put the papers down and returned them to her. With his memory, there would be no forgetting the salient details. “You have my word that the Cathedral will do all that it can to assist in these efforts.”
The man paused briefly, considering. “Has the Fighters Guild been informed? Discretion notwithstanding, border security may need to be more stringent, I understand. Perhaps a word to the Bazaars as well, if veal is now a plausible concern.”
It was not as though, Amos reflected, the need for discretion would last long if such procedures were not implemented. Winter was close at hand, and, from his assessment of the map, the rate of spread was indeed as she said. Should the mages’ fears come to pass, the citizens would need to be informed of preventative and emergency measures post haste.
“The Rangers are aware, and I asked the Fighters’ Guild council to keep us informed if other instances are encountered.” Peony paused before adding, “An attempt will be made to track and eliminate the source of contagion before the city is compromised. If this effort is not successful, then I will count on you for assistance.” She smiled, a bit sadly, and said, “Someday, my friend, I promise I will come bearing good news.”
He returned the smile with a tilt of his head. “No matter,” Amos said, leaning down to take another sip of his tea. “There is nothing to fear. Faram will provide.”