Sybil hesitated. While Cesare's concern for the boy was nothing short of admirable, she wondered at the validity of it. Between the description he had given her of a youngster in seemingly good health, showing no sign of illness, and his seeming conviction that the lad was now at death's door, something was going unsaid. Perhaps his own illness had come upon him very suddenly?
She had to remind herself that she was dealing with the unfamiliar. If he was willing for her to leave in search of this boy, then surely it would distress him more if she refused, and perhaps there was a suspicion of plague still in his mind. Sybil could hardly blame him for that, considering that he'd witnessed it. That poor cardinal with his home in flames. Sybil met Cesare's gaze, her own level and even, and then she nodded.
'I'll go first to purchase the medicine,' she decided, 'and see if I can send word to a priest to visit you.' She hadn't forgotten. 'Then I'll seek out the boy, and if he's unwell, he'll have proper care; I can give him the medicine right away, enough to ease the pain and let him rest. I'll make sure he's settled, and then I'll return here, with better medicine for you, and that broth I promised.' It was, on the surface, a logical way to go about things. Never mind all the underlying questions. She was resolved to help them, she would find a way.
'In an emergency - if you took a sharp turn for the worse, say, you have the device they're calling a telephone. You can alert me, I'll hurry back.' Sybil stood, and smoothed down her apron. In a way, she realized then, dealing with a patient suffering a fever was at least something that made sense, more than the idea of being in the future, having crossed years and continents in the blink of an eye. Despite her earlier assertion to the contrary, almost everything about the situation struck her as surreal. Everything save for the fact that she had a patient to care for, and so was it any surprise that she focused on that?