He'd removed his jacket hours ago, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up past his elbows. The Doctor's hair stood up at a dozen different angles. He was the picture of disheveled concentration as he moved from one small patient to the next, checking temperatures, listening to labored little lungs and straining hearts. All of the children's livers were affected, though Raben's condition was the worst.
The Doctor had a very well-founded suspicion that the disease had not originated in the village. If that were the case, Wess would likely be as ill as his older brother, but his symptoms indicated that he was at least six hours behind in the disease's progression. This meant that he had contracted it well after his brother. It was very likely that Raben had caught Erythrocaeleia from the Prince then had brought it back to the village.
Once this realization struck, he was not particularly surprised when Marden entered the infirmary to tell him that Dr. Wembur wished to see him in the palace. Marden spared a few moments to caress each of this son's faces and give his wife a kiss upon the cheek before escorting the Time Lord from the building.
The Doctor might have considered attempting a run for the TARDIS while in the small expanse of space separating the infirmary from the palace. However, two other guards fell into step directly behind him, hands firmly upon their weapons. His assessment of the King's desire for a long and uncontested reign leapt up several notches.
The Sentries accompanied him until they reached the Prince's chamber well within the interior of the palace. Two additional Sentries stood outside the suite. One opened the door and motioned the Time Lord to enter.
The Prince's chamber was large and luxurious, with an impressive bed in the center. The décor had a degree of maturity befitting the heir to the throne, but several beautifully crafted stuffed animals sat upon cushions and chairs, and brightly colored books lined shelves along one wall. Dr. Wembur perched stiffly in a high-backed, wooden chair beside the bed. A well-dressed woman who the Doctor assumed to be the Queen sat beside the ill child, pressing a cloth over his forehead. A younger woman wearing a simple pale blue dress and while pinafore stood beside the Queen holding a bowl of water.
The young Prince was fitful, tossing about in evident distress. Even from the doorway the Doctor could hear the telltale raspiness of his breathing. The respiratory distress was advancing fast.
Wembur looked up, quickly rising from his chair and moving toward the guest.
Not unaffected by the child's plight but clearly resentful of the adults' attitudes, the Doctor's eyes lingered upon the Prince until the physician stood before him. Then he shifted his gaze coolly to the other man.
"He's worse than Raben and the others," the Time Lord informed Wembur.
"This is very serious," the physician replied. "His lungs are beginning to shut down."
"Coronary function?" the Doctor inquired succinctly.
"Poor."
"He was the first to contract it," the Doctor stated without ambiguity. "It spread from him to Raben and then to the others."
Obviously ignoring the comment, Wembur said, "We haven't found any survivors from the last epidemic. How is Miss Tyler doing?"
The Doctor nearly snorted in reply. He knew full well that the question was motivated entirely by the man's concern for the Prince; he cared little, if at all, about Rose's well-being.
"Fever's up, respiratory function is slightly depressed. Her heart's fine for the moment. Would you like to hear about her liver?" His tone bordered on scathing.
Unperturbed, Wembur simply asked, "Will she recover?"
"I hope so."
"She's been infected for less than twenty-four hours. The disease is progressing more rapidly—"
"Yes, it is. But I can't judge the severity of it yet."
"But if she recovers soon enough, you'll be able to use her blood to cure the Prince."
"And the other children," the Doctor added curtly.
"Of course. But the Prince must be our priority, and he is very, very ill."
"Let me have a look at him."
The physician hesitated for a moment. "I'm not sure that the Queen will permit it."
"She will if you tell her it's necessary to save her son's life. And believe me, at this point it probably is."
Wembur returned to the bed to speak quietly with the Queen. She had not acknowledged the Doctor's presence when he entered the room, but now she looked up at him with a nod. He moved toward the bed.
"Dr. Wembur informs me that you may be able to help Cani," she said. The timbre of her voice was rich and imperious, yet a slight quaver hinted at her deep anxiety.
"And the other sick children," the Doctor replied.
She kept the child's hand in hers but leaned back, providing tacit permission for the Time Lord to approach the boy. The Doctor assessed the Prince's condition quickly, noting the raw lesions, weak heart beat, poor respiration, and tenderness of the enlarged liver. Cani barely stirred beneath his gentle ministrations; fever and weakness kept the child from waking fully.
However, as the Time Lord carefully eased the boy back onto his pillows after listening to his lungs, Cani gave several short, dry sobs.
"I'm sorry," the Doctor said gently, sparing a moment to press his fingers against the child's temple to infuse a few minutes of tranquility into the young mind.
Cani relaxed, and his breathing sounded slightly easier. The Doctor removed a small jar of balm from his pocket and handed it to the Queen.
"Put a thin layer of this on the lesions. It will soothe the pain," he instructed.
The nurse stepped forward to reach for the jar, but the Queen shook her head. "No, I'll do it." She looked up at the Doctor, her green eyes intensely deep. "Thank you, Doctor. If there is anything further you can do for my son, I implore you, please do it."
"I'm going to do everything I can to help him and the others," he replied.
She nodded then returned her attention to her son. The Doctor stepped away, moving toward the door.
"I think you should remain here," Wembur said softly, following him closely.
"No. The other children and Rose need me."
"The Prince needs you more."
"That may be, but there's no one else to look after the others. I'll send someone back with a poultice that should ease his breathing somewhat. But unless you can provide someone to help me—someone qualified—I won't leave Rose and the children again."
"Doctor, this isn't a matter of choice—"
"On the contrary, Dr. Wembur, it's entirely a matter of choice."
With that he left the room, walking quickly down the hallway, the guards following hurriedly in his wake.
To be continued…
