Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Sixty: Sickness

"Have you got bandages over here?"

Lin shuffled over to Dela's station at a young woman's bedside and rummaged in her supplies. Dela readjusted the cool cloths on her patient's hands and forehead and plucked the bandages from the pocket of her robe. "Here."

"I'm cold," the woman croaked, though when Dela set a hand to her forehead it was burning with fever. She tucked the blanket up around the woman's chest and stood to find her some water. Lin shadowed her as she headed for the barrel in the corner of the shelter's main floor.

"I can't feel my feet," Lin mumbled. "And everything hurts like I'm old before my time."

"Same," Dela admitted. She didn't think she could spend much longer sitting in the hard wooden chairs by the bedsides before it started causing permanent damage. She had lost track of how long ago they had arrived; the shutters were closed against the chill. She felt that it had been many hours since an acolyte from the class above had shaken her awake in her cell and tersely explained the situation – that a sickness had infected the neighbourhoods surrounding the flood site, and the shelters were full to bursting. Once again the Kelians were expected to offer aid to the struggling Medicas.

"Where are Orthan in all this anyway?" Lin returned from running the bandages to a Sister and helped herself to safe water from the barrel. "I haven't seen a single one of them in any shelters. I even saw Nict giving handouts in the market square last eighthday, and Nict barely has any money."

Not that they declared anyway, Dela thought to herself. Her father had always had a healthy suspicion of Nict, and Dela had never seen anything to suggest it was unwarranted. But the total absence of the wealthiest House in Nictaven in recovery efforts was altogether more suspect. Dela knew that Lord Harkenn held their Head of House-to-be prisoner on accusations of treason and had failed to get a confession, but she didn't think that was any reason to let normal civilians suffer for it. Perhaps having so much wealth did strange things to the mind.

"No one knows." She carried her water back to her previous station and continued speaking to Lin in low tones as she helped her patient to drink. The woman's eyes rolled in her head, and twice she choked and had to be mopped up. "No one will know until they see fit to tell us."

"Lin," Maniel's voice cut through the low murmur of noise in the room. "If you're free, we need a vigil."

They exchanged a look, and then Lin hurried off to answer the request. Most of the other girls were now sitting vigils, and most of those who weren't tended the deceased. Dela and several acolytes of other orders tended the living, moving among the beds as the Sisters of the Medica directed. The atmosphere was sombre, broken by cries of pain and delirium. It was a darker place that day than any preparation of the dead that Dela had been to. As she walked up the centre aisle, looking for another task, her fingers clasped the supplicating hands of Kiel which hung from a chain around her neck. Every acolyte in her class had received one, a sign that they were advancing in their learning. Under her robes hung the deer skull amulet Raklan had given her. She wondered if it was considered sacrilegious to carry symbols of two deities on her at all times, yet couldn't bring herself to take off the physical reminder of home.

When she found nothing that she was needed for immediately, she left the sick room and headed down the stairs to take some air for a moment. The room was stuffy with trapped heat and the stink of illness; her senses began to clear even as she descended, as a chill draught entered the foyer. She stepped out into the street with a sigh of relief, feeling more alert as cold wind chivvied at the hem of her robe.

"There's nothing more draining on the soul than watching people die despite your best efforts."

Dela hadn't seen the Unspoken until he spoke; she jumped, but managed to save her dignity and refrain from screaming.