[Mkguild] Fever

[Ian Jones]

Well, here's my first story set in the Metamor Valley.  I realize I'm a
little behind in the setting, but I'm still ahead of Hallan, so at least
that's good.  If you find any problems with grammar, spelling, setting,
characters, or anything else, please let me know.  Oh, and if you enjoyed
it, too.





March 4, CR 708


This town was completely unique.  The building styles and composition were
similar to any number of other towns he had seen in his travels, but the
community as a whole was different from all of them.  The simple lumber and
plaster used to make houses and places of business, with the occasional
stone dwelling for the rich or entitled, clashed in a sharp juxtaposition
with the menagerie of peoples, ages, and - most surprisingly - species that
Adtulon watched.  This sea of impossible forms living side-by-side with
mundane people provided a captivating tableau, and one that the traveler
had watched flowing from the town entrance and ports to the markets and
back since the sun had first begun poking over the mountains to the east.
 At this point, though, the sun had passed overhead and was dropping down
toward the range of craggy peaks on the other side of the valley, and the
rivers of people had started to disperse, despite the odd air that had
begun to spread among them.  Adtulon’s stomach was impatiently growling at
him in anticipation of the first warm meal he’d had in weeks, and he could
ignore it no longer.

Gazing over the impressively large town square, he decided on a three-story
inn made entirely of stone.  The few windows it had were practically slits,
perfect for shooting through if not for gazing at the scenery.  Its
impressive gates, oak banded in iron, stared across the square at the town
hall, as if reminding the seat of government where the real money - and
power - lay.  Adtulon figured that anyone with the money to build such a
fortress must also have the money to provide good food.  Of course, the
food itself would probably be expensive, but he had enough coin on him to
enjoy himself a little.

Making his way over to the gates, he finally noticed what was on the
hanging sign.  A collie, painted quite well in orange, brown, and white,
sat facing the square with its tail in the middle of wagging.  Wondering if
the sign reflected its owner, Adtulon shifted the swords on his back and
walked into the stone-walled courtyard, past the stable built into one of
the walls, and up to the also well-reinforced front door.  As he opened the
door, he reflected that his current garb most likely didn’t match the
normal styles that came through.  A sleeveless wool cloak covered a
shin-length greatcoat of the same material, perfect for the recent chill
weather, but the clothes were obviously meant for travelling on foot, not
riding in a carriage or on a horse.  The knee high, mud stained leather
boots did nothing to dispel that impression.

The innkeeper, a tall middle-aged woman, turned to the sound of the door
opening, calling out, “Welcome to the Jolly Collie, finest inn in Euper for
the best price!  My name is Jimmy.  Would you like anything this evening?
 A meal, a room, or both?”

Adtulon hid his surprise at the innkeeper’s name by eyeing the well lit
room as he made his way to the counter, past a male server and a marmot who
were talking together, and said, “Both.  The meal first, please, with a
room to follow.  How much lighter should I expect my purse to be after
tonight?”

Jimmy laughed as the traveller reached the counter.  “Not much at all.
 Rooms are only a Moon a night, and the meal is as expensive as you’re
willing to pay for.”

“All right, then.  The Moon is a silver, right?”  At her nod of assent,
Adtulon opened his greatcoat to get at the purse, then set the proper coin
down on the counter.  “I guess I’ll have the room first after all.  How
should I procure my meal?”

Jimmy gestured over the common room.  “Sit yourself down, and I’ll have one
of the servers come around to take your order.  Menus are on the tables
already.”

Adtulon made a slight bow.  “Thank you, my lady.  I’ll pick up my key after
the meal.”

Crossing the still moderately full room, he chose an empty table under the
stairs, and sat down with his back to the wall and a good view of both the
main entrance and the doors to the kitchen.  Once he had draped his outer
layers over the chair, the same man who was talking with the marmot came
over.  He was no older than sixteen, but already had an impressive physique
and handsome face, complemented by shaggy brown hair.  Despite the distant
look on his face on the way over, he focused on Adtulon’s face when he
said, “Hello sir, my name is Patrick, and I’ll be your server this evening.
 Can I start you with something to drink?”

After ordering both a suitably toxic beverage and his meal for the evening,
Adtulon sat back and watched the dining room, amazed at the diversity he
still saw.  Despite the higher number of human males from the first of the
spring trading caravans, he noted an impressive number of women and
children at the bar with mugs in front of them, and even though the animal
people were the smallest group, they had the largest presence.  The traders
from out of town made themselves painfully obvious, as it took effort for
each one of them to stop looking at the shrew at the bar, or the lioness
waitress, or the beaver that was even more off-putting by parading his
entirely plaid fur around.  Adtulon spent his fair share of time watching
those new sights and forms, but also attempted to spend as much time
watching the other patrons and examining the room itself.  At one point,
halfway through his repast, he marked a tod fox with one ear missing come
through the door and hold conversation with Jimmy before realizing he was
staring and returned to his food.  When most of the crowd had retired and
he had finished off his meal, he stood up, left payment and a modest tip on
the table, gathered his outer garments, and walked back over to the counter
where Jimmy was still standing, talking with his server.

Patrick had his hands behind his back and his head bowed slightly.  “Jimmy,
 I know that closing involves cleaning everything, and that with a person
missing it takes extra time, but I really need to get home now!  Deagan
says that she’s getting worse, and I want to be by her side.  And this is
the first time I have ever asked to go home early.  And everyone else can
still get it done - Matilda knows how to do it better than I do!”

“Yes she does, but no one else,” Jimmy said with her arms crossed.  “I’m
sorry, but people get sick all the time.  The most you can do at this point
is sit next to her and tire yourself out, since there are no healers in the
town and none of the healers from the Keep will get here until morning.”

“But this is different!  Deagan says it’s really bad!”

Jimmy stepped forward and put her hands on Patrick’s shoulders.  “Believe
me, I know what you’re feeling - I had to go through the same thing with
Lori - but right now the best you can do is to stay here and keep yourself
busy to keep your mind off of home.  Now go on and grab a rag from the
back.”

The server boy’s shoulders slumped, but before he had the time to get back
to the kitchen, Adtulon stepped forward and asked, “I’m so sorry to
intrude, but did I hear you mention that you need a healer?”

The boy snapped his head up to look Adtulon in the eye.  “Yes, my mother
has taken ill today, and no one can divine what ails her.  Can you help
her?”

The healer nodded his head.  “I have studied those arts, and while I am
afraid that I am not nearly as proficient in them as whoever might come
tomorrow, I have seen enough of the world to diagnose her.  That is, if I
have a guide to where she is staying.”

The boy whirled around to face his employer, a desperate look on his face.
 “Please, ma’am?  I even have the healer now!”

Looking nothing more than a mother besieged by her child, Jimmy assented,
saying, “All right, go ahead.  But expect that this will be coming out of
your pay later.”  Turning to Adtulon, she asked, “Shall I hold your room
until you get back?”

Adtulon nodded gratefully and said, “That would be very kind, thank you.”

Patrick grabbed his coat and threw it on as he led Adtulon out into the
chilly spring night.  On the way to the boy’s house, Adtulon asked him a
series of timid but insistent questions about his mother.  The answers came
readily: she had felt sick before noon that morning, and he had registered
a fever not long after that.  She had been coughing, but Patrick wasn’t
sure that was entirely the fault of her illness, as she normally had a
slight cough about this time each year.  Worst of all was that the marmot,
whose name was Marcy, had told Patrick that his mother had just started
shaking uncontrollably, and with odd spasms.  Patrick managed to get one
question in, about the doctor’s swords, but Adtulon simply said that anyone
who travels much must be able to defend himself.  Patrick led the doctor
through several streets and two alleys before arriving at a wooden door
hanging on one hinge.  The door sunk into a plaster wall thrown up between
two buildings that leaned on each other at the end of the alley.  Patrick
carefully swung the door open as he called out, “Nana?  How is Mother?  I
found a doctor who can help her.”

Upon that announcement, a sharp scuttling issued from the floorboards,
shortly followed by a boy no older than seven years with his hands clasped
in front of him.  He quickly approached the stranger and offered several
Crescents and three Moons in his outstretched hands, saying, “Here’s some
payment for your services, kind sir.  Nana put in what we had an’ I went
under the beds an’ behind the shelves an’ around in the midden an’ it was
really cold an’ I put in what I found.”  He gestured to a Crescent that
still had some brown grime around the edges.  “That’s one that I found.”

Adtulon felt Patrick tense up beside him, but knelt down and closed the
child’s hands around his bounty before the older boy could do anything.  He
said, “Thank you, but I have all that I need, and I think you need these
more than I ever will.  Keep them, but try to clean them off before you
give them to anyone else.”

At that moment, patrick gave the young boy a push toward the stairs and
said, “Kurt, give those back to Nana.  Quickly, now.”  While Kurt ran back
downstairs, he said in a low voice, “Your humility is worthy of Akkala.  I
am sorry you have to see this, but Mother needs your help.  She is this
way, down the stairs.  We moved the bed to separate her from the larder,
but we do not know what else to do for her.”  As they walked down the
stairs, he gestured to the far corner.  “There she is.”

Adtulon dropped his cloak at the foot of the bed, making sure not to jostle
his swords much, and unfastened his greatcoat as he gave the girl on the
bed a visual inspection.  She looked around fourteen years old, though she
had possessed the ability to produce children once - probably before she
was cursed, he mused.  She was turned on her side, facing the wall, giving
the blood she was coughing up an easier exit and preventing it from choking
her.  Noticing an elderly otter sitting in a rickety chair near the bed, he
asked her, “If you be so kind, what is her name, and who am I asking?”

The otter smiled at the formality and replied “Her name is Clarise, and you
may call me Annalise.  She is my daughter, and the boys are my
grandchildren.  Though, Patrick was not always my grandson, and we yet
await what Kurt will grow up to be.”

“Speaking of Kurt, where is he?  I figured he would stay as close as
possible.”

Annalise chuckled.  “I sent him to put the money back.  If he can remember
where to put it, he will hopefully distract himself before he can make a
nuisance of himself to you.”

Adtulon glanced back at her, happily surprised, before handing his
greatcoat to Patrick.  He noted the bloodstains on the linen around her
mouth, and asked, “How long has she been asleep?”

He kept examining her while Annalise provided the answer.  “Almost an hour
now.  She was... talking to her daughter before Artela looked on her in
mercy and gave her peaceful rest.”  Adtulon looked at the otter in
confusion before his eyes widened and he specifically refused to look at
Patrick.

As he turned back to Clarise, he asked, “This may be a sticky question, but
may I remove her shirt to get a better look at her?  I have a difficult
time hearing the lungs through fabric.”

Annalise nodded in assent.  “Please, do what you can for my daughter.”

Patrick seized the doctor’s hand before he could approach the fabric as he
said, “Nana!  This man is a complete stranger!  Why add indignity to
Mother’s list of trials?”

The otter’s eyes were hard.  “Because he could help her live to endure
them.  He humbly asked us for permission, so I believe he means no harm.
 Besides, you are standing over him and will prevent him for acting in an
untoward manner, yes?”  The boy grumbled, but nodded.  “Now, please let go
of his hand so that he can continue his examination.”

Patrick did as his grandmother commanded him, and Adtulon carefully reached
forward to raise Clarise’s arms over her head and draw her shirt over them.
 Noticing a large lump in her armpit, he muttered something to himself as
he bent down and touched it.  The mass was surprisingly smooth, but when
she whimpered in her sleep, he drew back in horror.  Whirling around a
hovering Patrick to face Annalise, he said, “Pants, the pants, they need to
come off.  I need to see something, can I take them off now?”

Patrick’s right cross sent him sprawling before she could reply.
 Annalise’s ears went down and she immediately began scolding him, saying,
“What are you doing?  I meant restrain him, not lay him out like a fish!”

Patrick turned from his target to his grandmother, shouting, “You heard
what he said!  He wanted to see Mother undressed in her bed!”

Adtulon lay on the floor shielding his head as he mumbled, “You can put her
shirt back on first, I don’t mind.”

Completely ignoring him, Patrick kept ranting.  “I knew he would try this
sort of thing the instant he asked to remove her shirt!  Next thing you
know, he would have been running his hands all up and down her legs, and
even down into - !”

“That’s enough.”  Annalise got out of her chair and snagged her grandson’s
shirt before yanking him down to her eye level.  “This man is a
professional, and in his line of work, such requests are expected.  His
behavior earlier suggested no dishonorable intent, just as his current
behavior shows no guilt.  He even had the decency to ask before removing
any clothing, for he was well within his rights as healer to inspect
whatever he pleased for signs of a malady.  I suggest you compose yourself,
assist him off the floor, and then maintain a respectful distance between
the two of you.”

Gritting his teeth and with fire in his eyes, Patrick bowed to the
now-noticeable churr in his grandmother’s voice and moved over to the man
on the ground.  He roughly maneuvered him into a generally upright stance
before moving to the far wall.  Adtulon, still shaky from the blow, turned
again to Annalise and said, “I can provide a fairly certain diagnosis at
the moment, the other check was merely for absolute confirmation.”

Sitting back down, Annalise said, “No, please continue.  My grandson shall
not trouble you again.”

The healer sighed.  “Very well.”  He staggered over to the bed and leaned
on it while waiting for the world to stop shifting.  After a moment, he
gently grabbed her pants and tugged them down enough to see another pair of
swellings on the inside of her legs, these ones of a black coloration.
 After tenderly feeling these growths and observing the same pained
reaction, he hung his head and gave a long, tired sigh.

Moving with a speed born of desperation, Adtulon snagged his cloak from the
foot of the bed and began wrapping Clarise in it.  As he made a space for
her to breathe, he called Patrick over, saying, “You will need to carry her
carefully and quickly up through the city and to the keep, or to wherever
the best healers are.  If you do not do this as soon as possible, this
entire household will most likely die.  Do you know where these healers
would be?”

Patrick, originally reluctant but now betraying worry in his demeanor,
said, “The Keep itself, I think.  I’ve heard of a raccoon who makes his
shop there and is very skilled.”

Adtulon grunted.  “That will have to do.  If the gates to the city are
closed, yell at them to let you through until I catch up.  I will be
burning her sheets and, if you can afford it, the mattress.  Now go, your
mother’s life depends on it.

“I’m sorry.”

The boy gently picked up the frail child, then mounted the stairs.  As
Adtulon started stripping the bed, Annalise grabbed his sleeve with a
strength belying her age.  He refused to look her in the eye as she said,
“What is it?  What ails my daughter?”

His face still turned away, he said, “I am sorry, but you should not bear
the burden of this knowledge.”

Resolute, she pressed again.  “I have lived many more seasons than you
would think, and care not for my own well-being anymore.  My family is all
that is left to me.  What ails her?”

He yanked his sleeve from her claws and continued gathering sheets.  “The
plague.”

Annalise, ears down and whiskers drooping, staggered back into her chair,
mouth agape at the healer’s back.  His shoulders sagged as he paused for a
second.

“I’m so sorry.”
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