man offered meekly.
“Thank you, yes, and light another lantern if you have one.” Raidan eased his satchel off his shoulder and let it slip to the floor. As the healer scurried to comply, the prince continued his preliminary examination of the corpse. All the telltale signs of the plague were present-purplish swellings under the jaw, a blackened, protruding tongue, hemorrhage from eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
“Jashen,” the healer said.
“What?” Raidan threw a sideways glance at the old man.
The healer pointed to the corpse. “His name was Jashen. Jashen Hosha. He was a farmer. Owned a decent- sized spread just south of here.” The old man sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what his poor wife’s going to do. Two little ones and a third on the way.”
Raidan rummaged in his bag and withdrew a small leather case. He eased it open and removed a pearl- handled scalpel. “Has the woman no other family to assist her?” he asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully cut into one of the swellings, releasing a gush of black fluid.
“Suka is a northerner,” the healer replied. “She’s got no family anywhere near Tono, sad to say, your Highness.”
Raidan laid down the scalpel then reached into his bag for a collection spoon and vial. Careful not to allow any to come in contact with his skin, he scooped a small amount of the black fluid into the vial and sealed it.
Over the next hour, he and the old man worked in silence. It seemed only fitting they do so, out of respect for the deceased. To Raidan, the dissection of a body must always be done with reverence, for only through careful examination, using the logic of science, would its inner workings be revealed, and by extension, the mind of The One.
After collecting the samples he needed, Raidan washed his hands in a basin provided by his host, then helped the old man replace the corpse in its niche. He stowed his specimens with care in his satchel, then fished out a small leather pouch. He upended it and three coins-two gold and a silver-clinked onto his open palm.
“The gold is for the widow. See that she gets it. The silver is for your trouble, healer.”
The old man nodded and folded the coins into his gnarled fist. “Thank you, milord,” he murmured, bowing deeply. “It has been an honor to assist you.”
“Let’s hope tonight’s work yields some answers. The fate of our people could depend on it.”
Raidan lifted his bag to his shoulder and collected his cloak from the peg by the door. He then followed the old man back up the tunnel to the outer entrance, leaving the dead farmer to rest in the chilly darkness.
The following morning dawned gray and cool. Fat clouds, heavy with rain, scudded by overhead, carried north on stiff winds from their birthplace over the western ocean. Raidan sat on a bench in the shelter of the inn’s large covered porch, wrapped in his cloak, impatient to be away.
Out in the inn’s front yard, the prince’s entourage bustled back and forth, readying their horses for departure. Raidan sighed irritably and rose to his feet.
He paced along the length of the porch, attempting to rein in his temper, self-aware enough to know that lack of sleep contributed to his ill humor. An outburst now would be undignified and unfair.
“My lord prince!” Raidan’s aide Kasai trotted across the yard to the porch. He sketched a quick bow. “Your horse has a loose shoe,” he explained between quick breaths. “The inn has no on-site blacksmith, so someone’s been sent to the next village to fetch one.” The man bowed again. “I’m sorry for the delay, your Highness.”
Raidan cursed. Kasai kept his gaze fixed on his boots. Raidan took a deep breath. “I know this isn’t your fault. These things happen. It’s been a hard week for all of us. How long do you think it’ll be?”
Cautiously, Kasai looked up. “I can’t say for sure, my lord, but the village is not far and the stable boy left right away. It shouldn’t be too long. Perhaps you’d rather wait inside where it’s warmer?”
Raidan nodded, temporarily mollified. He followed Kasai back into the inn’s common room and commandeered the most comfortable chair while his aide called for service.
A few moments later, the innkeeper herself appeared and scurried over, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached. A cloud of worry surrounded her like a fog. Raidan’s eyes narrowed. The woman bowed and asked, “What can I bring you, your Highness?”
“A mug of your best beer,” the prince responded, then asked a question of his own. “Mistress, even a person with no Talent at all would be able to see quite clearly how troubled you are. I hope neither I nor any of my people have been the cause of your discomfiture.”
The innkeeper, a solidly built woman with silver-streaked black hair, briskly shook her head. “Oh, no, my lord, no!” she exclaimed, eyebrows raised. “You’ve been most gracious, my lord, no trouble at all…” Her voice trailed off, and Raidan sensed she was barely holding herself together.
“Tell me what has got you in such a state, then,” he prodded in a gentle tone. The woman’s hands flew to her mouth and fat tears leaked from her clear, brown eyes. She stifled a sob, gulped, then whispered, “It’s my oldest boy, sir. I think he…he’s come down with the plague!”
Raidan rose to his feet. “Take me to him,” he commanded. “Kasai, go fetch my bag.”
“Straight away, my lord!” Kasai replied and rushed to obey. Without another word, the innkeeper led the way through the kitchen into the family’s living quarters, Raidan hard on her heels.
The boy lay in a small darkened bedchamber, buried beneath a mound of blankets.
“Mistress, please uncover a window. I need light to work,” Raidan ordered. The innkeeper opened a shutter to allow storm-gray light into the room. Raidan approached the bed, but he needed no visual confirmation to tell him what his nose had already made clear. With gentle hands, he peeled back the layers of blankets to reveal the sick child.
“What is your son’s name, Mistress?” Raidan asked.
“Tanshi, your Highness,” the innkeeper whispered.
“Tanshi, can you hear me?”
The boy moaned and his eyes rolled beneath closed lids.
Kasai entered the room, carrying Raidan’s satchel. He handed over the bag without a word, and backed off to stand at the foot of the bed beside Tanshi’s mother.
Raidan’s eyes traveled over the boy’s body. Tanshi had been a robust lad on the cusp of manhood. The prince noted the telltale signs of the plague, but as of yet, there appeared to be no hemorrhage. Raidan took this as a hopeful sign. Of the many plague victims he had seen over the last week, those that did not bleed went on to recover. Still, the boy was desperately ill and could fail at any moment.
His exam complete, Raidan replaced the blankets, then turned to face the mother. “Tanshi does have the plague, Mistress, but there is cause for hope.” The innkeeper listened attentively while Raidan instructed her on her son’s care and the proper dosage of the medicines he planned to leave. “Above, all, you must wash your hands after you have finished with your son. It is very important.”
The innkeeper looked dubious, but nodded her head. “I will, my lord,” she replied.
Raidan handed her several vials, then repacked his bag.
“You can wash in the kitchen, sir,” the innkeeper said, anticipating Raidan’s next request. As she led the way back into the kitchen, the woman turned and said over her shoulder, “It’s those dirty hikui, my lord. They’re the ones spreading this plague!”
Raidan frowned. “We don’t know enough about this disease to blame its spread on any one thing, Mistress,” he replied.
“Begging your pardon, Highness, but you’ll not convince me!” the woman huffed. “A hikui tinker came calling two weeks ago. My Tanshi spent a fair amount of time with the man’s daughter, against my wishes I might add! Now, he’s sick! No one else has fallen ill. Only my son.” She hovered while Raidan scrubbed his hands in the scullery basin. “I say all hikui should be made to leave Tono, my lord, and I’m not the only one!” Her eyes flashed defiance, as if daring Raidan to chastise her. The prince said nothing; he understood her attitude.
