Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. As mentioned in my "Butterflies and Hurricanes" chapter for this week, I had a number of things demanding my attention; summer vacation no longer affords me the free time that it used to give. It's just…catch-up time.
Before we get into today's chapter, I'd like to mention two things: one, I can now be found on Facebook, under my pen-name (I'm the Iced Blood from California); I will be posting all my updates from there.
Two, I have a new project. It's called "The Cottage at the Edge of Forever," and it's where I will be posting all of my original (fantasy) fiction. Updates take place on weekdays. There are 10 stories up so far, with many more to come.
So if any of you would like to see how I handle fantasy in my own worlds, with my own characters, head on over to ib-fantasy (dot) blogspot (dot) com. Hope to see you there.
That said, enjoy the chapter.
Kayli sat, performing the meditational equivalent of twiddling her thumbs, trying to ignore the constant flux of tainted magic emanating from the boy lying a handful of feet from her. It wasn't only the fel magic, though; she could feel the plague. This…patient was little more than a breathing corpse, and it was difficult for her to see things the way that Sylvanne and her brother so clearly did.
They saw a victim. She saw an abomination.
The only thing that stayed her hand, and kept her from performing the act that every muscle in her body was screaming for her to do, was the level of sheer indignant fury she had seen in her mistress's eyes. Regardless of what Kayli had been taught, and regardless of how she personally felt on the matter, the fact that her beliefs brought out that kind of disdain from a woman she respected and to whom she so often looked for an example, gave her pause.
Another, more primal part of it, was the fact that she knew what Sythiuswould do to her, if she killed his pet blood elf. Even if she was able to convince herself that she would be doing a kindness, and even if she could somehow earn Sylvanne's forgiveness, she knew that the hulking druid would take one look at the elfling's body, and rip hers apart.
Kayli was rather certain that Sylvanne would let it happen.
She eventually opened her eyes and watched the boy. Kin was breathing slowly, laboring for each gulp of air. His own, blasphemous eyes were shut tightly against some silent nightmare, and his little fists were curled around the blankets. He did not thrash or groan, but he was clearly in the grips of some mental horror, and a pang of sympathy reverberated unbidden through Kayli's body and nestled into her gut.
She sighed. "Pitiful," she murmured, and wasn't sure if she was talking about Kin or herself. She stood up, walked over to the small table in one corner of the room, and picked up a bowl of thin porridge. She stepped over to the bed with it, and held a spoonful up to Kin's lips. It made her skin crawl to be so close to him that she could smell, and feel, the stink of death and corruption. But her mistress had asked her to do this, and she would not fail. Not again.
"Eat," she urged, when Kin did not respond. He would not. She eventually tried a cup of tepid water; this he would take, sipping at the life-giving liquid with weak desperation, moaning with fearful relief. Again, that pang of sympathy. "There now," she whispered, feeling the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. "That's better."
She took a corner of a blanket and wiped at the child's forehead; the fever's heat was beading out in rivulets of sweat than ran down his pale and drawn face. Kin tried to pull away from the contact, and his bright green eyes snapped open in panic.
Kayli did not know many languages, but she had learned a good amount of conversational Thalassian, such that she could recognize the words where others might hear only incomprehensible sick-babble.
"Where is he? Who is this? Will it kill me? Master! Master, please!"
Kayli frowned. Reached back into her memory. She eventually said, "Master is busy. He will come back to you soon. Rest now, child. No one will kill you."
Hearing his own language seemed to shock Kin out of his terror, and he stared at Kayli with his mouth open. "You…are…"
"Master asked me to look after you," Kayli said. "He is going to find a way to help you. You are still sick. You need to eat." She lifted the bowl of porridge. "Come now. Sit up."
Kin did his best to do as asked, but it was clear that the sickness had sapped him of any real strength whatsoever. It might have been good news that this plague seemed to be progressing more slowly than usual, but this seemed to make it all the crueler. Kayli eventually muscled down her revulsion and reached out to help the boy sit upright.
She began to feed him. Though each spoonful was roughly the consistency of soup, barely thicker than the water, each swallow seemed to be painful for the elfling. Kayli didn't think she had seen anything so pitifully miserable as this boy, and as she watched him eat, the last of her defenses crumbled.
Once he had finished his meal, Kin lay back down against the pillows, and Kayli tucked the blanket around him. "Good," she whispered with a smile. "Good boy. Rest now. Master will be back soon."
Kin closed his eyes.
Kayli straightened, one hand going to the knife tucked into her belt at her right hip. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked flatly.
Heavy footfalls announced another person's arrival in the room, and Kayli turned to see a human male, young but with shoulder-length slate-grey hair. He was dressed in the robes of a mage fit to travel; there were a number of pouches hanging from his wide belt, and he held a walking staff in one hand.
He inclined his head to Kayli, then turned the entirety of his attention to the boy. He looked…bemused. With a half-smirk, he reached into one of his pouches and removed a scroll. He set it onto the table and turned back toward the door. On the threshold, he said, in a deep and cultured voice, smooth and articulate but with a touch of sarcastic amusement, "If you would, read that to Master Sil'nathin when he returns from his audience with the king."
He left without waiting for an answer.
