Steps of the Dance
Chapter 3
Winter was in full swing when the full impact of the plague became apparent. It wasn't unusual to find people in the beggar's quarter dead on the street due to chill conditions or malnutrition, but the toll this year seemed abnormally high. Law enforcement lackeys hauled the bodies away in carts, not noticing the weeping boils on the skin of the dead, or the way the irises of the sightless eyes had been drained of any color.
Later, those same workers were found dead in their homes, identical symptoms visible on their bodies. It was about that time that the physicians who worked in the City's morgue took a closer look at the corpses. Chizeta might be a small little world, but it had some of the finest doctors to be found, several of whom were magically gifted. They went to work on the bodies, determining the cause of death to be some kind of disease transmitted through touch, inhalation, or ingestion. In short, something that could be passed along through simple contact, or just breathing the same air as an afflicted person. Several of the physicians on staff sickened shortly after the preliminary examinations. The symptoms included sudden high fevers, followed by hemorrhaging in the lungs, and finally a rash of sores that broke and oozed a clear, vile smelling fluid of some kind. Such an illness had never been recorded, and therefore had no known cure. Most of those doctors died horribly within twenty-four hours. Some of them recovered shortly after the fever. What separated those who lived from those who died was anybody's guess.
The doctors' hysterical reports were sent to the officials of the King and Queen, and the beggar's quarters were set off into a quarantined area. Anyone within the barricade had more or less been doomed to die. But the measures taken were too little, too late.
Adjacent to the diseased part of the city were the districts inhabited by the lower merchant class. The water supply the people living there had access to traveled through the beggar's quarters, and it seemed the plague had taken to traveling in the plumbing system as well.
The first Caldina knew of the outbreak was the death of her nanny, Mrs. Olhedrin. The washerwoman, but nature of her trade, was in constant physical contact with water, and the plague only had to be touched to affect a person. The middle aged woman's temperature spiked one night after Feshahd came to pick Caldina up for the day. When last the two saw her, she was in perfect health, joking and scooping her children out of harm's way by sheer instinct as they played around her legs. The following morning, Caldina arrived at her friend's home to find it deadly quiet.
"Feshiri?" She called into the dark hallway. "...Delia?" There came no answer. Feeling prickles along the back of her spine, Caldina pushed the door open and stepped into the tiny, three room home. Her normally soft footsteps were eerily loud on the dead silence. She peeked into the little kitchen, but found it to be empty of everyone, which was odd. This early, breakfast should be on the table. Something was definitely amiss.
Growing more apprehensive by the moment, the girl turned back into the hall. A sudden racking cough ripped the air, causing Caldina to yelp and jump in surprise. She ran down the short passageway into the single room that served as a sleeping chamber for the entire family. She burst into the bedroom and froze in the door way.
Mrs. Olhedrin was curled into a ball on her sleeping pallet, her whole body shaking and jerking as though she was caught in the grips of a seizure. One hand was clamped over her mouth, and her shoulders shuddered as she coughed. A fine red spray emerged from between her fingers and dripped to the floor.
Caldina shrieked at the sight of the blood, but her nanny didn't seem to register her presence. The little girl looked wildly around, catching sight of Feshiri and Delia sprawled on their own mats. She hurried over to their sides to see if they were hurt as well. She didn't make the connection between the blood and an illness; people only bled when they were cut, didn't they?
Neither child moved when she touched them, but their skin burned against hers. Caldina bit anxiously at her lower lip and wiped some of the sweat from Delia's forehead with her scarf. They were hot and dry, and she knew that that meant a fever at least. Maybe if she put a cold cloth over their foreheads, the way her father had done for her when she'd caught fever, they'd be alright.
A faint whimper drifted to her ears from the far corner. Caldina turned and noticed Siratan sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, staring blankly at his sick family.
"Atan?" She called to him, getting to her feet again and going to stand over him. "Are you alright? Are you sick too?" She reached out and touched his shoulder, but his skin was only normally warm.
With a sudden wail, the toddler flung himself forward and threw his arms around her waist, sobbing into her stomach.
"Th-they won't wake up, Dina! They won't!" He sobbed, obviously panicky. Caldina went to her knees and hugged him tightly, just as frightened by the strange turn of events. She knew she needed to be calm though, for the both of them. She stroked the boy's sandy hair and murmured softly into his ear, the way her mother always did in her dreams.
"It'll be alright Atan." She soothed him. "We'll go see my Da, 'tay? He'll know what's goin' on." She pulled Siratan to his feet and dried his tears, attempting a watery smile to calm him down. The little boy nodded, trusting even as she did in the magical power of adults to make everything right again. His mother coughed and shuddered harder, no longer capable of holding a hand to her mouth. Instead, the blood ran in a thick stream from the corner of her lips to a growing puddle on the floor. Caldina swallowed hard and pulled Siratan from the room before he could see. She felt suddenly sick to her stomach, and her nose burned the way it always did before she cried.
"Dina? We goin'?" Siratan tugged urgently at her hand. Feeling very grown up and in charge, the older girl nodded and pulled him towards the front door of the house, pausing only to grab a ragged cloak from a peg on the wall to throw around the boy's skinny shoulders.
The two children hustled down the street, fighting their way past the morning traffic. Strangely enough, the streets held only a mere shadow of their usual activity. Something was keeping people at home today, and it couldn't be the weather. Winter in Chizeta never got much worse than a little freezing rain, or maybe some hail and slush.
"Hows come I'm not sick, Dina?" Siratan asked after they had walked in silence for ten minutes or so.
"Prob'ly 'cuz you're not Chizetan." She replied absently.
"I am so!" The little boy protested. "Mama tells me so all de time!"
Though she had only just turned five a month prior, Caldina had heard the whisperings of people who came to the Olhedrin home to have their laundry done. Everybody knew that Siratan's father hadn't been a Chizetan, or even Mrs. Olhedrin's husband. He'd been a foreigner from Autozam who had been visiting Chizeta, and come looking for something original to take back home as a souvenier. He probably hadn't meant to leave anything behind, most people sniggered. Caldina didn't understand what that meant, or why it was such an awful thing for Siratin to not have a father. She didn't have a mother, and people didn't look at her with disgust the way they did him. Most often, she got the 'poor baby' expressions.
"Well...you're not all Chizetan." She amended as an afterthought, noticing how a scowl was drawing Atan's brows down over his nose. The child's face cleared up immediately as he forgave her slip.
"You think it's sumthin' only 'Zetan's get?" He pushed on. Siratan had entered his 'why' stage a while back, and had yet to outgrow it.
"I dunno." Caldina replied honestly. "Could be. We'll hafta wait an' see."
They arrived at the clock shop close to an hour after Caldina had left for the Olhedrin home. She paused at the door, wondering if her father would be angry with her for interfering in his day's business. After all, he sent her away to keep her out from underfoot during the day. She frowned and gripped the door knob resolutely. No, Da wouldn't be mad. This was somehow very important, like the kind of stuff adults dealt with. She knew she was out of her league.
Without further ado, she opened the door and entered the empty shop. It seemed the lack of traffic on the streets meant no customers today. The bells over the door tinkled, and Caldina couldn't help but smile at the sound. She liked those bells. Her father had told her they'd been cut off of a dress that had used to belong to the aunt she'd been named for. Her mother, Jezedra, had kept them as a keepsake after her sister's death. Caldina always felt a little happier hearing them jingle, like her aunt was giggling in heaven at some joke only angels knew.
Feshahd rounded the corner from the workshop, and frowned absently down at his daughter and her small friend.
"Dina, what are you doing here? There's work to be done."
"Da, I'm sorry." She ducked her head in apology, and pushed Siratan further into the warmth of the shop. "But sumthin's wrong with Mrs. Olhedrin, and 'Shiri and Delia too!"
"'Dey're sicked." Siratan piped up.
The frown deepened, but now it was one of concern. Feshahd stepped out from behind the counter and bent down to get to the children's level. "Sick?" He inquired.
Caldina swallowed hard and paled under her normally dusky skin. "They were all hot and sweaty, like I was when I had 'dat fever, 'member?" She fidgeted and bit at her lip. "An' Miz. Olhedrin...she was coughin' up blood Daddy. I saw." Siratan nodded emphatically, his lower lip trembling as he bravely fought back tears.
Feshahd's stomach sank. He knew of the plague; everyone did. But did anyone truly expect to come in close contact with it? He knew he'd only considered the possibility in passing. If Caldina had been in such close contact with infected individuals...
A cold sweat broke out over the clockmaker's body. There was still no known cure, but his daughter couldn't have known the risk. And Siratan seemed to be perfectly healthy despite his own exposure. Perhaps they'd been lucky.
But perhaps not.
"Daddy?" Caldina tugged on his sleeve, worried by his silence. "Should you call a doctor, maybe?"
"I'm afraid there isn't anything I can do, love." Feshahd said quietly, hugging both children to him. "There is a very serious sickness spreading through the city. No one knows how to make it better. Some people live through it, and some don't."
"...What about my mum?!" Siratan demanded. "And my brother and sister! They won't get better?!" His blue eyes were wide in utter disbelief. At three years old, he wasn't quite capable of understanding the concept of death.
Feshahd eyed the child dubiously. He didn't want someone who had been living with afflicted individuals so close, but his good nature demanded that he not turn the boy back out onto the street. His mother was probably very near death by this point, and his brother and sister might be only slightly better off.
"I'll tell you what I'll do." He said, standing and releasing both children. "I'll call a doctor. They're always looking for people they can examine for a cure." He didn't say that the physicians would probably only take Feshiri and Delia. It was too late in the game to examine Mrs. Olhedrin. Feshahd smiled reassuringly, reaching for a coat and pocketing his keys. "Dina, there's some lunch on the stove. Make sure you both get something to eat, and if I don't come back until late, get to bed before darkness falls, alright? I'll lock up behind myself."
"Yes Daddy." Caldina replied, assured that everything would he alright now. She took Siratan's hand and lead him towards the living quarters. "You'll be here t'tuck me in?"
"Of course." Feshahd jiggled the door, to make sure it would lock when he closed it. Odds were good that there would be little business today, so he wasn't concerned about flipping the sign in the window from 'Open' to 'Closed'.
Caldina heard the door close with a very final sounding 'thud'. A shiver worked its way up her spine, though she couldn't have said why she had a sudden sense of foreboding. Matter of fact, she probably couldn't even have defined the word 'foreboding'. She dismissed the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and pushed a chair over to the stove to allow her reach to the food atop it. Maybe something to eat would settle her a little bit.
~
The winter sun was setting over the cityscape, staining the gray slush a muddy crimson color over the slums and poorer quarters. Caldina stood on her tiptoes and peered out the window, but there was no sign of her father anywhere. She sighed and slumped back down into the chair she'd been standing on, pushing her unruly, fluffy bangs from her eyes. This really wasn't very fair. She was worried now. What if something had happened to him, or to Delia or Feshiri? Then what?
Someone knocked on the front door of the shop. Siratan jerked awake from where he'd been napping in Caldina's bed. By the time he managed to get himself untangled from the blankets, his friend was already out into the store, reaching for the doorknob. She remembered at the last moment to peek through the window first, to make sure it wasn't some stranger.
The person she saw wasn't who she'd been expecting. He was short and stout, with dark skin and even darker hair and eyes. His crimson tunic and deep azure sash marked him as one of the most skilled physicians, though Caldina couldn't have known that. But she did recognize the turban wrapped around his skull as a mark of status. Only those who lived in the most luxurious quarters of the city were permitted such a badge.
Timidly, she stood up on her tiptoes and unlocked the doors. The bells chimed, but failed to bring any reassurance. The bulky man looked down at the wisp of a girl half-hiding herself behind the door, and smiled warmly. He doffed his turban and bowed shortly to her. Caldina blinked in surprise, not knowing what she had done to warrant such recognition. Siratan peeked under her arm, eyes going wide.
"Is this the residence of Feshahd the Clockmaker?" He asked politely. "And if so, are you his daughter, Caldina?"
Pink locks bobbed as the girl nodded an affirmative. She edged out from behind the door, clasping one of Siratan's hands as much to reassure herself as to calm him.
"Can I help you, sah?" She asked, licking her lips anxiously.
The man's dark brown eyes were full of some emotion she couldn't quite place. Pity? Sympathy? Sadness? And why?
"Little Lady, I was sent by your father to bring you to him at the Healer's Hall." He replaced the turban over his hair and held out a large hand for her to take. "He asked that you be brought away from this place immediately."
"Daddy told me nevah to go anywhere wit' strangers." Caldina replied stubbornly, keeping her hands together behind her back.
The man tapped his chin thoughtfully. "How could I persuade you...? Ah! The entire reason your father came to me, was to submit two young children, and an older woman into my care."
"My mama!" Siratan piped up hopefully from behind Caldina. The doctor looked over her shoulder and nodded.
"Yes, your mama." Again, his eyes went sad. "Does this convince you?"
Caldina thought about it for a moment. It was getting late, and father had promised to be home...but what if, for some reason, he couldn't leave Mrs. Olhedrin? Would he have sent a strange man for her? She mulled it over, and finally nodded.
"Atan, go'n get your coat, tay?" The little boy scampered off into the house, and came back with both their cloaks. Caldina slipped hers on, trying her hardest to act mature and adult around this stranger. The doctor nodded approvingly and took each of the children by the hand. Now that he was clear of the door, they could see past his bulk, and noticed the brightly woven rug lying in the middle of the street. Wordlessly, Siratan and Caldina were led towards it. Mystified, both children obediently sat where they were told. Siratan looked in confusion to his older friend, who shrugged her own puzzlement. Once they were situated, the doctor took a seat behind them, and set his hands palm down onto the weave of the carpet.
"Rise!" He commanded imperiously, and the rug rose steadily into the air. Caldina gasped and leaned over the side to see if there was something beneath pushing them upwards. All she saw was empty air and slush, though she waved a hand around beneath it. The doctor chuckled and pulled her back onto the center of the contrivance.
Caldina had heard of the flying carpets, of course, but she'd never thought she herself would ride on one. They were horribly expensive; no one in her neighborhood had ever even touched one, though a few could claim to have seen the wealthy people zooming overhead on their own vehicles.
"Woooooow!" Siratan breathed in wonder as they levitated above the buildings, and zipped off through the chill air towards some unknown goal. He huddled closer to Caldina for warmth; both were now very grateful of their cloaks, as it was colder in the thin upper atmosphere.
"You c'n see the Palace from he-ah!" Caldina exclaimed in joyous surprise, flinging one hand out to indicate the structure. It floated weightlessly above the city, all soaring golden towers and glowing windows with jewel bright windowpanes. Arcs and buttresses reared up in a marvel of architecture. Mosaics were inlaid with colored bricks into the construction so seamlessly that it was impossible to distinguish between stones even close up. The children gawked, floored by the awesome castle they had never before been able to see.
"And there," The doctor said, pointing towards a building of gleaming marble, "Is the Healer's Hall." The carpet zoomed in under a large arched gateway, flying now only a few feet off the ground. There was a tension on the air, so thick they could nearly feel it brushing against their skin. Caldina shivered, suddenly frightened. This might be a place of healing and recovery, but there was death here, on a very large scale. She rubbed her hands across her arms, and felt goosebumps even beneath the fabric of her tunic.
The rug drew to a halt and lowered back down to the ground. Struck by the overhanging feeling of gloom surrounding the place, even Siratan was silent as the three of them stood and headed towards one of the many doors that would lead inside the Hall.
"Dina, I'm scared!" Atan hissed, tugging at her sleeve. "Sumthin's wrong here...sumthin' bad!" Caldina could only agree, and squeezed his hand without replying.
They were lead through twisting passages crammed with bustling people. Some of them wore colors similar to their escort's. These were undoubtedly the doctors. Others dressed in more muted hues were likely the nurses and orderlies, or trainee healers that had been yanked from their classes to help deal with the current crisis. They drew to a halt outside a door that looked identical to any they had seen thus far.
"In here." The stout man said quietly, pushing the door open for the children to enter. It was dark beyond the portal, shadowy and somehow frightening. Caldina thought she could hear the raspy sound of breathing, but she wasn't sure. She looked up at the doctor, who smiled sadly and nodded. Gathering her courage together, she stepped through the door, pausing to allow her eyes adjust to the darkness.
"Dina, love?" A familiar voice came from a corner. Caldina brightened immediately, and scrambled towards it, her spirits lifting.
"Daddy!" She smiled, making out the outline of a bed. A shadowed hand lifted and tugged on a small chain, and golden light flooded through the tiny room. Already seating herself on the bedside, the pink haired girl turned to beam at her father.
And hardly recognized him.
He'd only been gone for perhaps half a day, but Feshahd looked so different! His skin seemed clammy, and shrunken back against his face like a man deprived of sleep. A reddish rash marked the skin of his forearms, and seemed to climb up beneath his sleeves. Caldina stared into the warm brown eyes, the only feature unchanged.
"Daddy?" She asked timorously, reaching out a small hand to touch his cheek. Feshahd drew away from her fingers, smiling apologetically.
"I wouldn't, love." He said softly. "You might fall sick as well."
SICK?! Was this the mysterious illness he'd spoken of earlier? The one that some people never recovered from?! But he'd been fine that morning.
"The doctors tell me I'm not contagious enough to infect someone by breathing on them, just yet. But touching could be dangerous." He went on, noting the stricken look on his daughter's face. "It seems I caught this from someone."
"...Me?" Caldina asked quietly.
"I don't think so." Feshahd reassured her. "There are so many people in our neighborhood that are ill. I doubt I contracted this from you, lovely."
"But you won't be here long." Caldina said with a child's assurance. "You'll be back in the shop soon, won't you?" Her eyes begged for a positive answer, but it wasn't one he could give.
"We'll know in a day or so." Feshahd wanted desperately to hug his daughter, his heart lurching in his chest as her lower lip began to tremble, and those sky blue eyes glimmered with tears.
"Wh-what 'bout Miz 'Hedrin?" She swallowed hard and swiped her hand across her eyes. "An' Shiri an' Delia?!"
The silence went on for an awkward moment. Caldina's hands knotted up in the bedsheets as her father averted his eyes from her face. Her stomach sank rapidly, and her throat closed up on itself as she realized what he wasn't telling her.
"They're not gonna get better." It wasn't a question.
"No."
"An' you might not?" She fought desperately to choke out the question around the ball in her throat.
"I don't know."
"You're going to go away like Mama did." Caldina accused him, suddenly angry, though at what she didn't know. She stood up on the bed, her hands on her hips and flames in her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn't notice or care. Her voice rose into an angry wail. "You're going to go away and leave me all alone!" She threw her arms around his neck, uncaring what the doctors might have to say about it, and sobbed brokenly into his shoulder. She was more afraid than she could ever remember being, and the lump in her throat was making it difficult to breathe.
Feshahd clutched his precious daughter to him, afraid it might be the last time he was ever able to do so. He smoothed her wild rose hair and rocked her gently the way he had when she'd been just an infant, during those long, lonely nights after Jezedra's death. He had promised Caldina they would always be a family, but it didn't seem to be a promise he was going to be able to keep. It wasn't dying that frightened him, it was what would become of his child.
A sudden coughing fit ripped through his body, and Caldina fell back against the blanket in surprise. Her father shook and trembled as the spasm eased, and waved a hand to keep her away. The door to the room opened, and the doctor rushed in. His hands were glowing an intense blue too bright for human eyes to register, though Caldina had no trouble seeing it. She watched as he placed his hands on her father's chest and the glow dissipated throughout his body. The coughing fit wound to a halt, and he breathed deeply of the antiseptic laden air.
"Dina," Feshahd rasped, his voice how a hoarse parody of its normal tenor. "Go on now, Siratan will need you to comfort him." His daughter nodded shakily, her wide blue eyes fixed on him and full of fear. He patted her hand reassuringly, noting the doctor's disapproving look. "Know that I love you, dearest. I do."
Caldina nodded, and slid off the bed, her child's mind not able to grasp the finality in the declaration. She went to the door, and drew it closed behind her, pausing to blow her father a kiss before she slid it shut.
Feshahd looked up at the doctor, a friend of his from school. The man had risen from the same humble beginnings as he had, and had never forgotten his rules.
"Will you grant me one last favor?" The clockmaker asked.
"Anything, old friend." The stout healer replied, dusting his hands off on his tunic.
"My daughter has a mage talent." Feshahd said bluntly, smiling as shock imprinted itself on the doctor's face. "When I am gone, please make sure she is brought to the attention of whatever Master might be willing to teach. I always meant to, but somehow, I never got around to it. None of us ever see our own end coming....it's the best I can do for her now."
The dark eyed man nodded, and drew the covers up around Feshahd's thin shoulders. "Rest assured, I will do so."
The tall, thin man's eyes fell shut, and his breathing deepened as sleep stole him away.
For eternity.
~
AN: *wails* I'm sorry I'm sorry!!! I never meant to get this depressing! *sighs* Oh who am I kidding? It's only going to get worse. Just wait 'til you see what I have in store for Dina and Atan! Duahahahaha!
