The same questions haunted Bayan the next morning as they breakfasted in the inn common room. Charles talked cheerfully about aether and how it felt different in every environment. Bayan watched him talk and wondered how to be friends with someone. He thought of his own life, trying to find the last time he had let anyone close enough to care about them. His father had died when he was young, and his mother had little say about Tribe Avagnar fusing with another. He had been very close to his mother, but she remarried after his nameday, and his stepfather had no use for Bayan. The other young Xaela Bayan's age had not gone out of their way to befriend him. The only bright spot in his increasingly bleak, lonely world had been that vision of his future wife. Somewhere out there was someone who would love him and support him. She would be his home. So he went out to find her.
The only other people he could think of who might count as friends had been the dark knights who taken him in as he traveled through snowy Coerthas. They had seemed like the brothers he had never had, fighting for justice when the laws disallowed it. All outcasts, all lonely and hurting inside, all harnessing that negativity and turning it into strength. Little wonder their fighting style resonated with him.
And now this somewhat naive Hyur was talking about friends as if they were easy to acquire, and had brought him his supper as if kindness were the most ordinary thing in the world. Bayan knew otherwise. Kindness was rare, reserved only for the worthy. What had he done to make himself worthy in Charles's eyes? He had treated him with respect and paid him for his services, as he had every other healer in his employ. But no other healer had cared about him, personally.
Bayan was still brooding about it when Zana Elakha entered the inn. She had traded her peasant robe and shawl for the battle robe of an Arcanist. It was made of heavy cloth and was belted firmly around her waist. Her grimoire hung in a sling at her side, easily accessible for casting spells. Her head was bare, her jet-black hair tied back in braids. Her ears and tail were smoky gray. She carried a knapsack over one shoulder. Bayan watched her approach nervously. This was his expedition, after all, so he'd better take charge.
As she reached their table, Bayan rose to his feet, pulled out a chair for her, and bowed. "Welcome, my lady. Would you like to breakfast with us?"
"I've already eaten, thank you," Zana replied, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him. Her head barely reached to Bayan's chest, but this didn't seem to worry her. She sat down and set her knapsack beside the chair.
Bayan sat, too. "I understand that you've offered us your services as an Arcanist."
"Yes," said Zana, facing him with a professional air. "I am also familiar with the East Shroud. I can help you dispose of this troublesome funguar."
"What is your price?" Bayan asked.
He was disconcerted to see her gaze turn to Charles, and to see Charles look away and blush red. Was she going to ask for him as her payment?
"I suppose part of the bounty would be enough," Zana said, turning back to Bayan. "Let's say a fifth. I know they were offering about five thousand gil for that funguar, and I doubt you'll survive the encounter without my knowledge."
Bayan considered this. "Fair," he said. "Unless you have any objections, Charles?"
"It's all right with me," said Charles.
Zana turned back to Bayan. "The main thing is that you will need to put a damp cloth over your nose and mouth. Funguar release toxic spores when threatened, and if we breathe them in, even a white mage will have trouble saving us. Be sure that you are so equipped before we set out."
Bayan nodded. "I'm grateful for this knowledge. Is there anything else we should know?"
"Nothing of import," said Zana. "I'm ready to depart when you are."
Bayan glanced at Charles, thinking he had something to add. But Charles was busy collecting their empty plates and tidying the table, as if avoiding eye contact with Zana. Were these two sweet on each other? They'd only met the day before. Despite what Charles had said about Hyur not having a fated mate, he was certainly acting as if Zana was. When a Xaela man found his moon, he acted in precisely this way: embarrassment, awkward behavior, and a lack of coherent speech. Well, time would tell.
"I'll harness my chocobo to the cart," said Bayan. "Be careful of your own bird, because Yin is aggressive."
"Hm," said Zana, but added nothing else.
They walked out to the stables, where Yin greeted Bayan with his familiar whistle. Bayan stroked him and examined him, as usual. The chocobo groomed Bayan's hair with his beak, and nibbled his horns. Bayan laughed and pushed him away. Here was a true friend, a companion who lavished love upon him and expected nothing back.
Yin was eager to run, so Bayan took him out in the stable's exercise yard and rode him in circles for ten minutes. Once the bird was calmer and panting, Bayan hitched him to the cart and drove him around the front of the inn.
Charles and Zana awaited him on their own chocobos. Charles had his bird several yalms away from Zana's, who was a deep blue-gray and wearing hand-sewed leather barding. Zana's bird stood perfectly still, one eye turned toward Yin and the cart, but Bayan had the feeling that if it came to a fight, Zana's bird would win.
Bayan waved to them, and pulled onto the main road through the city. Zana and Charles fell in behind him, and they caravaned through the forest city and down to the docks at the edge of the lake. There they hired a ferry to carry them across the water to the East Shroud, which hugged the horizon like a bank of blue clouds.
They tied their chocobos to the hitching rails on the ferry. Charles went to the bow and leaned over the rail, breathing the fresh breeze blowing off the water. "Now this is more like it," he said, and conjured a handful of swirling green energy. It trailed off his fingers as he held up his hand. "Look at all this wind and water aether! I could create a whole storm, if I wanted."
"Could you?" said Bayan doubtfully. "I thought you were a white mage."
"I graduated conjurer training before I learned white magic," said Charles. "The magic operates on the same principles."
"Yes," said Bayan, "but are you strong enough to conjure a storm? I thought weather alteration took crowds of mages."
"It does," said Charles. "And it's extremely dangerous. I wouldn't try it, I'm just saying that the aether feels good out here."
Bayan reached into the back of his cart, produced a fishing pole, and tied on a lure. Charles and Zana watched with interest as he cast out into the lake and watched his line trail behind the ferry.
"Hoping to catch dinner?" Zana asked.
Bayan shrugged. "Habit. I traveled to Eorzea on foot from the Azim Steppes in Yanxia. I learned to never turn down a chance to find food."
"So you're a native of the Steppes," said Zana with surprise. "Your accent is barely noticeable. I thought you were from Ul'Dah."
"No, although I plan to investigate Thanalan, next," said Bayan. "At the market yesterday, I saw precious few Auri girls, and none unmarried."
"Ah yes, your quest," said Zana. "I cannot accompany you beyond the borders of the Twelveswood, because I cannot forsake my family's business. This is my off day."
"Nice of you to spend it with two strangers," said Charles.
"You are hardly the strangest company I have kept," Zana replied, twitching an ear. "I have trained birds from all over Eorzea, including the red chocobos of the Dalmascus desert. Their owners come in exotic shapes, indeed."
"What of your bird?" Bayan asked. "I've never seen a blue."
"Brightfeather was bred specially by my family," said Zana, stroking the bird's neck. "He carries traits of our finest fighting birds. Notice the wiry build and thicker legs. He could disembowel a horse with one kick."
"I'll keep my distance," said Charles, edging himself and his own chocobo a little further away.
Zana turned to Bayan. "About this girl you're searching for. What does she look like?"
"I know only that she is Raen," said Bayan. "The vision gave me impressions of her soul, not her outer appearance. It also indicated her location. I will know her when I see her soul in her eyes."
Zana's tail twitched in annoyance. "Do the gods realize how impossible it will be to find a girl on such little information?"
Bayan shrugged. "Not all Xaela have that much. Often they are as much hit and miss as everyone else. I am blessed to have received my vision at all."
"Well, I'll help if I can," Zana sighed, leaning on the guard rail. She lowered her voice and leaned toward Bayan. "Do not let Charles marry anyone."
Bayan frowned at her. "Why not?"
"Because I'm going to marry him," she murmured. "He needs more time to think about it. Make sure that he doesn't run off with anyone else in the meantime."
Bayan smiled and nodded. "I shall do my best."
Zana gave him a conspiratorial smile and moved off to catch her chocobo, who had taken a few aggressive steps toward Bayan's black one. Charles, further down the ferry, had not heard this exchange. He grinned into the wind, his dark hair blown back from his forehead, happy as a child on an outing. Bayan gazed at him, wondering if Zana was a suitable match for him. Was her soul the one intended by the gods to be his counterpart? Even though she was a Miqo'te and so different from a Hyur? He had heard of the way cat girls sometimes stalked a man and had a miserable marriage afterward. The thought of that smiling, happy young man at the ferry rail suffering in a poorly-matched marriage for the rest of his life pained his heart. Bayan would remain quiet and see if any real friendship developed between them.
As he watched his line in the water, he wondered at himself. Why did he care whether Charles was happy or not? Charles was no kin of his. Maybe this was what Charles had meant last night, when he brought Bayan's supper to his room. Friendship was caring about another person as much as you cared about yourself. It wasn't as complicated as Bayan thought. Charles seemed to care about everyone, even more than his job as a healer required. Thus he made friends of everyone. Bayan took pains not to care about anyone, because that was how they hurt you.
But maybe he had begun to care about Charles anyway, simply because Charles was so infernally kind all the time. It wasn't a bad arrangement. Maybe Bayan would even trust him someday.
The ferryman, who sat in the back with the rudder and the sail lines, called, "Now approaching the East Shroud. Take hold of your chocobos, please."
Bayan reeled in and stashed his rod back in the cart, and took Yin's bridle. Charles and Zana stood by their chocobos, too, keeping them calm as the sail swung about and their speed slackened. They drew up alongside a long wooden dock that extended out into the lake. Charles jumped ashore, caught a line tossed him by the ferryman, and moored the boat to a post. Bayan paid for their passage, and they unloaded the chocobos and cart.
Soon they were on their way again, this time into the East Shroud. The trees here were younger, more dense, and vivid green. In many places, the forest had been cleared to make way for great fields of wildflowers dotted with beehives and cows. Little farmhouses stood here and there.
Bayan gestured to Zana. "Lead the way, miss. You know the area better than I do. Which way to the Sylphlands?"
"South, for now," she said, guiding her blue chocobo into the lead. "After a few malms, the road swings east, and we'll be close. Keep an eye out for sylphs. I want to consult them about the funguar."
Bayan had never seen a sylph and didn't know what to look for. But Charles trotted ahead of the cart and fell in beside Zana, asking questions about the area and how she knew it so well. Zana launched into a long story about her aunt's farm and her bees, and how Zana used to spend summers with her as a girl, helping with chores and romping in the woods. It was so different from Bayan's childhood that he found himself listening to her as if hearing a fairytale. A pretty story, but unreal.
After a long while, the road began to bend eastward. The forest drew closer about the road and the shade deepened. Bayan had the impression that they were penetrating deeper into the heart of the wood, and anything might await them there. He watched his chocobo. Yin's head cocked this way and that, his fierce eyes missing nothing, but he seemed to see nothing that frightened him. He was more annoyed by the chocobos ahead of him, and kept trying to sneakily put on speed to catch up.
It was only because of watching his bird that Bayan saw the sylph. Yin's head shot straight up on his long neck, and the feathery crest on top of his head stood up in alarm. One black eye fixed on something high up to the left. Bayan followed Yin's gaze.
The sylph sat on a tree branch near the road, gazing down at them. It resembled a child made of leaves, with a head like a small, folded cabbage. It had huge dark eyes that watched them curiously as they passed by.
Bayan called, "Zana, is that a sylph?"
Their cavalcade halted. Zana and Charles peered into the trees. "Yes!" Zana exclaimed. "Thank you, Bayan. You are much more observant than I am." She slid off her chocobo, opened her saddlebag, and pulled out a small cloth pouch. Carrying this, she slowly approached the side of the road and addressed the sylph. "Would you kindly speak with us, flying one? I have a gift for you in my hand."
The sylph studied her for a long moment. Then it opened a set of leaf-like wings and flew down to her. It did not touch the ground, but hovered at her eye level, effortlessly and light as air. Its voice was thin and silvery.
"What does walking one want with this one? Why does walking one bring gifts?"
Zana held out the cloth pouch. "I have brought you a gift of seeds to grow many flowers. Strange flowers from far away."
The sylph took the pouch and peered inside with a trill of delight. Then it tucked the pouch out of sight among the leaves that covered its body. "This one is happy to help walking ones. What does walking one require?"
"We have heard of a very large funguar in the Sylphlands," said Zana. "We wished to ask your advice. Is it dangerous?"
"Ah, that one," said the sylph. "Growing one very dangerous. Make flying ones sick. Walking ones kill with steel?" It eyed Bayan and Charles hopefully.
"Yes," said Zana. "Can you tell us where to find it?"
"This one show walking ones," said the sylph. "Walking ones kill growing one, stop sickness, good, good."
The sylph fluttered ahead of them down the road. Zana mounted her chocobo, and they all set off again, following their guide.
"Sylphs are friendly enough," Zana told Charles quietly. "They have no use for walking ones, as they call us, but they love gifts of the botanical variety. I'm glad they dislike this funguar, too. If they had decided to side with it, we would have had a much more difficult time."
Bayan wondered how trustworthy a sylph might be, and if it might not be leading them into a trap. But he held his peace and followed along with the cart.
The road made several turns and began to roll up and down hills. The banks on either side of the road grew higher, until they were walking in a shallow ravine. Abruptly the road narrowed ahead of them, and the sylph halted.
"Here is entrance to the Sylphlands," it called in its thin voice. "Leave rolling thing. It cannot fit."
Bayan eyed the narrow ravine ahead of them and agreed. He climbed down and unhooked Yin from the cart, then strapped on his sword. Charles returned to the cart and pulled three scarves out of his own knapsack. He moistened them with his water bottle, then handed them to his companions. "When we find the funguar, wrap this around your face."
Bayan wrapped his scarf loosely around his neck to keep his hands free, then took Yin's bridle and led him into the crack.
They walked in single file, following the sylph, who led them with great patience. The road wound through a long cleft in what seemed like a small mountain of stone, all grown with moss and ferns. When they emerged on the other side, they found themselves in an old growth forest, with trees so large they seemed more like grand pillars in a palace. Each tree was hung with shells and bits of bone that spun and jingled in the breeze.
The sylph led them onward for a while, deeper into this forest. Everywhere were signs of habitation, from tiny houses in the trees, to ornaments hanging from branches. The ground was untouched leaf litter, because flying creatures made no roads.
At last they came to a clearing and found the funguar. It simply looked like a mushroom with a purple cap: a mushroom grown twenty feet tall and bigger around than Yin and the cart combined. It made no movement as they approached, sleeping in the daylight. Bayan eyed it distrustfully. He'd seen small funguars, and disliked them. This one was far larger. He unwrapped his sword. Then he wound the scarf over his nose and mouth. Nearby, Charles and Zana were doing the same. The sylph bade them goodbye and fluttered away into the trees.
Bayan patted Yin. "Ready to fight, boy?"
The bird chirped and fluttered his wings.
Bayan glanced at his companions. Charles pulled out his healing rod and nodded. Zana produced her grimoire, paged through it, and murmured a spell. A bubble of glowing blue aether appeared beside her. It brightened and expanded, taking on the form of a little red fox-like creature with three tails. A ruby carbuncle. Bayan had worked with other Arcanists and had seen the sorts of creatures they summoned. A carbuncle was only the start.
"Attack when ready," Zana said. "We're with you."
Bayan raised his greatsword to a defensive stance and gathered himself, focusing inward. The yawning abyss of loneliness inside himself was ever-present, easy to tap. He drew on that blackness, letting it fill him with strength. Swirls of smoky darkness began to envelop his blade. He sprang forward and slashed at the funguar's stem.
His sword bit deeply into the funguar's spongy stem, but stuck halfway. As he wrenched his sword free, the funguar awoke. It sucked in air with a long hissing, inflating the stem, growing wider and still taller. A set of tiny eyes appeared on the stem, uncaring and empty as an insect's. A pair of slender arms peeled free of the stem and whipped toward Bayan. He leaped backward, avoiding one. The other grabbed his arm. The funguar's purple cap opened like an umbrella, and a cloud of spores dusted down upon him. They smelled of mold, and Bayan coughed, even through the scarf's protection.
He swung his sword and slashed through the arm, cutting through it like a twig. Then he sprang forward and delivered a series of slashing blows at the funguar's stem, trying to cut it down like a tree. Air pockets popped as he cut them open, yet the fungus remained inflated, the eyes fixed on him.
To his surprise, the funguar uprooted itself from the ground and hopped toward him, the bottom half of it moving on short roots like fat fingers. It bent with surprising speed and bulldozed him backward with the edge of its cap. Bayan fell and rolled through the leaves, shoved by the funguar's impossible strength. He managed to keep ahold of his sword, and also managed to not cut his own limbs off with it.
Suddenly the shoving stopped, and Bayan rolled to his feet, shedding leaves and litter. Zana's glowing carbuncle had leaped onto ithe funguar's crown and was spinning in place, its magical body delivering slash after slash to the cap. The two attack chocobos, Yin and Brightfeather, had darted in and were tearing at the funguar's eyes with their heavy beaks. The funguar sprouted another pair of arms and flailed at them, using its arms like whips. The chocobos wheeled from attacking the eyes to peck savagely at the arms.
Encouraged, Bayan returned to the attack, feeling the warm touch of Charles's Cure spell. As the funguar stayed occupied with the chocobos, he circled around behind it and laid into the fat stem with his sword, hitting in a crisscross, slicing deeper and deeper into the stem. More air pockets popped, and the stem began to wilt. The funguar started to turn, trying to bring him into sight, and Bayan dug deeper for more strength. He reached deeper into the abyss, past his loneliness, and found the humiliation from the night before. Hot and potent, it brought with it a helpless rage and confusion that flowed into his muscles and sword. His next blow cut halfway through the funguar. Snarling, he spun and used the sword's weight to cut the funguar in half.
The air puffed out of the funguar all at once, and a dark cloud of spores exploded from its cap. The mushroom toppled sideways, the stem shrinking back to its original size, and fell on the leaves, still trailing spores.
Bayan retreated, still burning with battle rage, breathing through bared teeth. It wasn't until he heard the chocobos coughing and sneezing that he realized that the scarf had fallen loose from his face. That wasn't the abyss burning in his throat and lungs–he'd been extensively poisoned by the spores.
He hurriedly pulled the scarf back over his face and rushed back to Charles and Zana, who were also retreating to a safe distance. The chocobos followed them, beaks open and tongues sticking out, coughing and staring in distress.
"Great," Charles muttered. He lifted his staff and floated a few inches off the ground, surrounded by ribbons of green light. He flung the ribbons at Bayan. They enveloped him in that same comforting warmth, sinking into his blood and bones, easing the growing choking sensation in his chest. Bayan pulled the scarf down and saw with amazement that it was black with spores right where he breathed through it.
Charles continued floating and summoning more ribbons. They flowed in from the trees, Bayan observed, spitting out a mouthful of black goo. Charles really was drawing in the local aether and shaping it into healing spells. The Sylphlands were so lush that the magic appeared in visible form. Bayan watched as Charles healed the chocobos, and threw a healing spell on Zana for good measure. Then he returned to casting spells on Bayan. One of them was a Purge spell that forced Bayan to quickly sit down.
"Charles," Bayan said from the ground, his voice hoarse. "Don't forget to heal yourself."
Charles gave a grunt of annoyance, but he cast his next heal spell on himself, the green ribbons vanishing into him. "I feel fine," he said. "And you're in a bad way, Bayan. I hate funguars so much!"
Bayan sat there and let the healing magic wash through him, thankful that Charles's magic was compatible with his body or aether or whatever. The abyssal power slowly drained from his limbs, leaving him with a vague sense that he had bruised his own spirit. Why had last night's humiliation been so close to the surface? It must have sunk deeply into his soul, more deeply than he had thought. If he wasn't careful, he'd wind up one more sullen, angry dark knight, like the band in Coerthas.
Trying to lighten his own mood, he said, "Is this white magic, Charles? It looks green to me."
"This is conjury," Charles panted. Sweat gleamed on his forehead from the effort of channeling so much magic so quickly. "I haven't actually used any white magic on you. It's dangerous. It was actually kept secret for a thousand years or so because people abused it." He cast a final Cure spell and sank to the ground, loosening his robe and fanning himself. "I have to rest or I'm going to burn out." He sat on the ground beside Bayan and rested his elbows on his knees.
Zana stood nearby, her carbuncle perched on her shoulder as if it weighed nothing. She was stroking its little pointed head and watching the men, her grimoire still open in her other hand. Bayan realized that she had watched Charles cast his healing spells with close attention and admiration. Now she turned away and wrote in her book with a quill pen that appeared out of nowhere. After a moment, she turned toward them and flung out a hand. Green sparkles flew from her fingertips and settled over Charles and Bayan. Charles tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Oh, thank you."
It was a healing spell, Bayan realized as the magic struck him. But instead of the comforting warmth of Charles's magic, Zana's magic stung him like a swarm of bees. Bayan made a cry and tried to brush the sparks away, even as they sank into him.
Zana stared. "What's wrong? It was supposed to heal you."
"I am sensitive to most healing spells," Bayan said, as the stinging faded. "I can only tolerate Charles's."
"Really!" Zana strode forward, knelt, and peered into Bayan's eyes, then Charles's. Then she flipped through her book. The pages were covered in scrawled text and complicated diagrams. She selected one and whispered the words. A ring of blue magic appeared over her palm. She held it up and peered through it, first at Charles, then at Bayan, then at Charles again.
"Fascinating!" the catgirl said, her tail twitching excitedly. "Your aether resonance is exactly the same frequency. That is amazingly rare. What's more, both of your aether resonance is way up in the highest frequency, which is also unusual. Hmm, if I want to help you, I need to find a focusing spell to change my own aether's resonance as I cast …"
As she subsided into mumbling mathematical formulae to herself, Bayan said, "What does that mean? Why is my aether frequency so high?"
Zana's attention snapped back to him. "I don't know, honestly. I do know that it makes you stronger, but also more volatile. You need to be careful with how you work magic, because it could destabilize and harm you badly. What magic was that, anyway? I saw you draw on a burst of it for that killing blow."
"Uh," Bayan stammered, "uh, it was … just aether, I suppose." He didn't want to tell her that he drew upon the abyss for his strength, or Charles, either. The abyss was where voidsent dwelt, and only black mages typically drew from it. If they knew that he was channeling black magic, they'd probably turn their backs and leave him, and he'd be back to hunting for a healer he could stand.
"Fascinating," said Zana, making notes in the margin of her book.
Bayan noticed Charles studying him with a speculative look. It made Bayan wonder uncomfortably if Charles had already figured him out. So Bayan climbed to his feet and went to inspect his chocobo.
Yin had stopped coughing and panting. He was scratching in the leaves with the other birds. All of them were busy pecking and scratching in the forest mulch like big chickens, enthusiastically uncovering huge grubs and beetles and eating them. Bayan walked up and stroked the bird's back. Yin raised his head and trilled happily, thrusting his dirty beak against Bayan's chest for petting. Bayan stroked his feathery head and whispered to him that he was a good bird, such a good fighter, so brave. Yin closed his eyes and drank up the praise.
Charles rose to his feet and coughed once. "Bayan, might I borrow your sword?"
Bayan looked up, startled. "Why?"
"I need to cut a chunk off the funguar as proof that we killed it," said Charles.
Bayan eyed Charles's arms. They had only the ordinary amount of muscle. "I doubt you could lift my sword."
"Oh, come on," said Charles, grinning. "All I have to do is badly chop a piece out of a dead mushroom being. I'm sure I can do that much."
Bayan lifted his sword out of its shoulder strap and handed it to Charles. Charles took the hilt with one hand, and immediately dropped it. The sword thumped into the leaves.
"It's as long as you are tall, and it's made of solid tempered steel," said Bayan. "It took me weeks of training to even swing it properly, and I'm somewhat bigger than you."
"I can do this," Charles grunted, grabbing the hilt with both hands. He hoisted the sword off the ground, but had to rest it on its tip. "Gods! How do you carry this thing around with you?"
"I can cut the funguar," said Bayan, stepping forward.
"No, I'll do it," Charles said. "All I did in the fight was stand back here and cast a few spells. I want to get in at least one hit." He staggered toward the fallen mushroom, dragging the sword through the leaves. Bayan followed along, worried that he might chop off his own leg, instead. Also, being dragged was going to dull the blade, and his middle cringed every time the metal clinked against a stone.
It took Charles several tries to lift the sword high enough to even rest it on the funguar's side. Then he struggled to lift it enough to cut anything. But he finally succeeded in chopping out a piece of purple crown. He picked it up triumphantly. Bayan stepped forward unobtrusively and reclaimed his sword, returning it to its strap on his back.
"Remind me never to arm wrestle you," said Charles breathlessly as they walked back toward Zana and their chocobos. "You must have sinews like a Behemoth."
Bayan thought guiltily of the abyss and didn't answer.
They mounted their chocobos and retraced their steps back up the narrow pathway and out of the Sylphlands. Bayan had never been so glad to see the sunlight shining through the treetops as he was that day.
All three of them were hungry by that time, so they detoured to a tiny village called the Hawthorne Hut. They sat on the grass and devoured the food they had brought with them in the cart, and Bayan fed their chocobos a couple of pounds of cracked corn. Then they used the village water pump to wash their faces and hands, trying to clean away the spores still clinging to them. Bayan had another bath in his future, he was sure. His windpipe and lungs still didn't feel right, but he hated to ask Charles for more healing. Charles was looking pale and tired, and didn't say much, even after lunch.
They took another ferry back to Gridania, and checked into the inn in the early evening. Thankfully, there was no sign of the crowd of Miqo'te girls, although their personal ad for Bayan remained tacked to the notice board. Bayan pretended not to see it. He watched as Charles wearily bade Zana goodbye, then dragged up to his room. Bayan escorted him, afraid that the healer might stumble and fall down the stairs. As he unlocked his door, Charles dug into his pocket and pulled out the chunk of funguar. "Here," he said, handing it to Bayan. "Go turn in the bounty. I can't do any more today."
"Are you all right?" Bayan asked quietly.
Charles leaned against the doorframe, head hanging for a moment. When he looked up again, his eyes were a trifle too bright, as if he had the beginnings of a fever. "I'm fine. I just need rest." He retreated into his room and closed the door. Bayan stood there a moment, wondering if he ought to find a healer for his healer. Then he went back downstairs. Time to claim a bounty, order a bath, and figure out supper.