The stench of death Linsha had noticed two nights ago was still present and even stronger in the heat of day. She noticed also many of the houses they passed had yellow paint splashed on the doors.
When she asked Mica about the paint, he unbent enough to answer. “The paint is to mark homes where all the inhabitants have died.” Linsha fell silent. Worry for Elenor preyed on her mind, and she wondered if she could talk the dwarf into taking a small detour to Elenor’s little house to check on the old lady. She glanced back at the dwarfs stony face and decided probably not. But maybe she could confuse him in these back streets enough to lead him by Elenor’s house. It wasn’t that far from Watermark Street.
Casually she pushed Windcatcher into a faster walk and turned the corner at the public water pump, where a few children played in the trickle of water that still flowed. Mica duly followed, making no comment. Linsha led him on past empty inns and gaming houses, where desultory music echoed into the streets to lure customers inside. She took several more side streets and turns and soon came to the street she knew so well.
Mica rolled his eyes. “Either you have no idea where you are going, or you are deliberately trying to mislead me.”
Linsha turned in her saddle and said, straight-faced, “I’m deliberately misleading you so I may check on an old friend. We aren’t far from Watermark. I’ll have you there in five minutes.”
“You didn’t need to sneak around like this,” he sniffed. “All you had to do was ask.”
“Oh, sure,” she muttered. And give him the satisfaction of saying no?
They passed a small grove of sycamores drooping in the heat, several silent houses, and a small bakery before reaching Elenor’s house. Linsha noticed the ladder still leaned against the chimney and a few windows were open to the slight breeze blowing in from the harbor. There was no yellow paint on the door.
Before Mica could protest, Linsha leaped off Windcatcher and flew to the door. “Elenor?” she shouted. She shoved open the door and dashed inside.
“Oh, by Reorx’s Beard,” Mica grumbled. After dismounting, he tied both horses in the shade of a nearby tree and stamped into the house after the infuriating woman. He found her in the back of the house, in a small kitchen, bent over the still form of an old woman sprawled on the floor.
Linsha raised a tear-streaked face. “She isn’t dead yet. Please help me, Mica.”
The dwarf laid a gentle finger against the woman’s jugular. Her pulse still beat steadily and there was no sign of the tell-tale blotches, but her skin felt hot and dry.
Together they lifted Elenor and carried her to the bed in her small room. Linsha went to fetch water while Mica examined Elenor. It took a while for Linsha to find a bowl, a pitcher, cloths, and water, so by the time she returned to the room, Mica was already finished.
“She doesn’t have the plague yet,” he announced. “She’s dehydrated and there’s a lump on her head. She must have fainted and struck her head on the floor.”
“I’m not surprised about the dehydration. There’s no water in the house. I had to get some outside.”
Using the cloths, Linsha bathed Elenor’s face in the tepid water and trickled water down her throat. Mica found the lump on her head and, using his power of healing, repaired the bruising and strengthened her diminished system.
Elenor’s eyes fluttered open. She saw Linsha first, and a smile shone on her withered face. “You’re back!”
“Hello, Elenor. I came to visit and what do I find? You flat on the floor. What were you doing, chasing ants?”
The woman’s face screwed up in bewilderment. “No, I… Let’s see. I was looking for a bottle of cherry cordial I had hidden somewhere. I was thirsty. There’s not much to drink.”
“Elenor, when was the last time you fetched water?”
“Just before you left,” she replied. “You told me not to go out until you came back.”
Linsha shook her head in disbelief at her old friend’s confusion. “That’s not what I said. Elenor, I asked you not to go back to the Dancing Bear or down to the waterfront. I didn’t mean you had to lock yourself in the house.”
“Oh,” said the old woman weakly.
“Who knows? Maybe it saved her life,” Mica put in.
The two women looked at him in surprise. Linsha hastily introduced him. “Elenor, this is Mica, the governor’s healer.” Then, to him, she asked, “What do you mean?”
He lifted his shoulders slightly. “If she didn’t leave, she probably wasn’t exposed to the disease. I believe it spreads through some kind of contact. Perhaps skin to skin.”
Linsha thought about that. It made sense. Such a reason could explain why she had not yet caught the disease, for even though she had been on the ships and around the harbor district, she had not touched anyone that was ill at the time.
Elenor nodded. “He’s right.”
The dwarf crossed his arms and looked away, obviously dismissing the old woman.
Linsha gave her a glass of water to sip and said, “Why do you think so?”
Much of Elenor’s spirit was returning, for she leaned across the bed and lightly poked the dwarf in the stomach. “I may be old, but I am not entirely befuddled. I remember an epidemic like this. So many years ago. My grandfather and grandmother died of it.”
Mica’s attention returned with a snap. “When was this? Where?”
Elenor’s hand fluttered. “Nigh on sixty years ago, I’m thinking. I was just a little thing.”
Mica looked skeptical. “Then how do you know it’s the same thing, if you were young then and you’ve locked yourself in now?”
“The Kellen boy came to help me for a day or two. He brought me news and fetched water and helped me in the garden. But…” Her face screwed up in worry. “I haven’t seen him for a few days. I hope he’s all right.”
“So do I,” Linsha said soothingly. “We’ll look for him when you’re feeling better. Now, please, Elenor. Tell Mica about the plague.”
“It happened around Kalaman.”
“That territory was controlled by the Dark Knights during the war,” Mica observed.
“I know that! Now, do you want to hear or not?”
To Linsha’s surprise, Mica bowed politely and sat on the corner at the foot of Elenor’s bed, his mouth shut.
“The plague came out of nowhere,” Elenor went on. “It nearly wiped out our village and several more besides. I remember my grandma was so sick. Same symptoms, if Kellen was right. Fever. Dark red blotches. Running bowels. Terrible dreams. My grandma died in two days. Even the healers couldn’t cure her. They were horrified.” Her voice faded away, and she stared into the distance of old memories.
“Do you remember how the disease was stopped?” Linsha quietly prompted.
Elenor lifted her hands in an apologetic shrug. “I don’t know. It left the valley as quickly and mysteriously as it came. Our priest of Mishakal blamed it on evil magic, but he died before he could learn the truth of it.”
Mica made an inarticulate sound and bounced to his feet. “Fine. Thank you for your tale,” he said to Elenor, then he spoke to Linsha. “Please finish here, squire. We still have our task to finish. Today.” And he stamped out of the room.
“Stiff-necked, insufferable old stick-in-the-mud,” muttered Linsha.
Elenor laughed softly and patted her arm. “Don’t take him seriously. He’s not as stuffy as he acts.”
“How do you know?”
“Look at his eyes. They aren’t hard and cold and shifty. He’s being careful about something, but he cares more than he reveals.”