NB: Heeeeeres chapter 3! I do not own them in any way, shape or form, apart from Élan…which incidentally means: a feeling of strong eagerness (usually in favor of a person or cause) due to …which sorta suits him…
Anywho, here we are!
Chapter 3 – Nothing You Can Do
Maerad had not come back for the afternoon. Cadvan sat with Hem and Saliman at their midday meal, confused by her absence. She was obviously having such a good time that she did not want to come back yet, he supposed. But then she knew she has lessons that afternoon…He munched through his meal distractedly, hardly tasting it, keeping one eye on the window overlooking the Til Amon square outside and trying to dispel a sense of alarm that was rising like bile inside him.
He had just put his food aside, unable to eat any more due to his tight throat, when there was the sound of running footsteps outside and the kitchen door was flung open. The three men glanced up to see a messenger standing in the doorway, breathing heavily.
"Lord Cadvan, Lord Saliman," he panted. "First Bard Élan requests your presence right now. It's urgent."
Cadvan's sense of panic tripled. Saliman, feeling nothing of the sort, let out a derisive snort.
"We're eating."
"Please, sir," the messenger said, his face pale. "It's really urgent."
Cadvan and Saliman swapped a quick look which said: Élan is no fool. It must be bad.
"All right, we're coming," Cadvan answered, standing up and grabbing his cloak from a nearby chair. Hem, who had noted the new tense atmosphere, dropped his spoon in his soup.
"I'm coming too. He won't mind."
Saliman spared him a quick glance, then nodded.
"Bring Irc." Irc, hearing his name, stopped at his relentless prying into a jar of pickles and swooped onto Hem's shoulder, and they set off into the silvery-white afternoon.
Élan was greyer and more strained than Cadvan had ever seen him; a short man with a scruff of wild black hair and too many wrinkles on his face for his forty years, he now sat in his office, conversing speedily with a group of soldiers. The three entered, Cadvan noticing that the Bards who had been present at the meeting that morning were again all there. His anxiety beat a new pattern into his heart.
He caught Élan's eye.
"What's happened?" he asked.
"There's been an outbreak of the White Sickness in the city," Élan said, his voice tight. "We've had to quarantine the Ninth Circle."
Hem saw Cadvan's entire body flinch, and his face rapidly drain of colour.
Saliman, who had not noticed Cadvan's violent reaction, asked,
"Who is it?"
"A little girl called Leela, daughter of the merchant Orbius. Had it a few days, but their foolish healer wasn't sure until now."
"Did you say – " Cadvan croaked, his voice as rough as sandpaper. "Did you say the Ninth Circle?"
Élan shot him a puzzled look, which matched Saliman's at the sudden unsteady state of his friend.
"Yes, I did," the First Bard said. "She lives there, so the whole area has to be closed off, quarantined. No one is to go in or out."
Cadvan swayed slightly, his mouth moving and forming inaudible words. Saliman glanced at him sharply.
"Cadvan, what's wrong?"
The look Cadvan cast at them was blank with quiet horror.
"Maerad's in the Ninth Circle."
The room rustled in alarm, Hem stared in terror.
"What? Why's she there?!" he demanded.
"Visiting Niec, the carpenter there," Cadvan murmured.
"But – but that means she's trapped!" Hem cried.
Cadvan turned fiercely to Élan.
"You have to let her leave."
Élan had gone even greyer, but he shook his head stubbornly.
"Impossible. I'm sorry, Cadvan."
"But she's the One!" shouted Hem. His temper had taken over already.
"Élan, we have to be able to leave Til Amon soon," Cadvan urged, speaking steadily although he was shaking. "You can't trap her there, not with the Sickness – "
"The rules clearly state that all who are there during the placing of the quarantine must stay there until the quarantine is lifted," Élan said firmly.
"She's only been there a few hours, Élan…" Cadvan started to object, but Élan spoke over him.
"It doesn't matter. She could easily have come into contact with an infected person during that time – she could even be infected already. You know how quickly the White Sickness spreads once it gets started."
"The longer you keep her there, the more her life is at risk," Saliman retorted. "You cannot let her die there Élan, she's the One, she's more important to the Light than you know."
"And to us," Hem snapped. "And to us."
Cadvan went even paler at Hem's words.
"I'm sorry, but my decision stands," Élan argued. "I cannot risk taking her out to have her infect people – anyone, you Cadvan, me, the whole of Til Amon – she could infect anyone."
"But she might not be infected!" Hem cried.
"We do not know for sure," Élan said, as if it were the end of the matter. "She could say that she feels fine, but the illness could already be in her blood stream, already be infecting her without her knowing it. Besides, if we took her out, what would stop the friends and family of others in there coming to my door and demanding their escape? No. I have to make a stand. Maerad must stay in there and last out the quarantine with everyone else. I cannot take a chance on something as important as this. And there is nothing you can do to change my mind."
He looked around the room, at the faces torn between understanding and anxiety. "I must make arrangements," he said. "I will call a formal meeting this evening and explain to you in full what I have done. Meanwhile, tell no one to go near the Ninth Circle. There are soldiers already on the wall, but we cannot be sure until we set up a shield. Now, I take my leave of you…"
The Bards took the hint and piled out of the room – Élan fell back into the violently quick discussions with the soldiers. Saliman took the fuming Hem and Cadvan by their shoulders and guided them out of a room and into a nearby empty corridor, where they stopped and stood in numb silence.
"Now what?" Hem finally burst out furiously. "You heard what that overgrown piece of – "
"Hem," Saliman said warningly.
"All right, all right. But you heard what he said. There is nothing you can do to change my mind. How are we going to reach her now?"
Cadvan, whose face had been tight with thought and worry, glanced at Irc on Hem's shoulder.
"Would Irc be able to deliver a message for me?" he asked in the Speech.
Irc ruffled his feathers proudly.
I am the King's messenger. I can deliver any message.
Shut up birdbrain, Hem rebuked, but fondly. "He'd be fine," he added ironically to Cadvan.
Cadvan nodded sharply, his face still white.
"Tell him to go to Maerad wherever she is in the Ninth Circle, and say that I will meet her at the wall at midnight tonight after the meeting here. She must not be seen by the soldiers, and she must not tell anyone about it. But tell her I will be there."
Hem related the message to Irc, made him repeat it back twice, then opened a nearby window and let him fly out into the air.
They watched silently until the bird was just a mere speck of white in a silver sky.
"She'll be all right," Saliman said quietly. "She's strong. She'll cope."
"And we can do something," Hem added fervently. "We can help her."
Cadvan listened to neither of them, keeping his eyes on Irc, his white face paled even more by the silver sunlight.
"I will be there," he said to himself. "I will."
Reviews are welcomed! Chapter 4 up soon and it has some M & C–ness so keep tuned! :)