The Plague Diaries

by Ronlyn Domingue

He observed me, then dared to stare into the wolf’s eyes. “Fascinating creatures, wolves. The way they hunt. Watch. Stalk. Chase. Bite. So different from the pathetic sheep, the way they cluster together, so effortless to cull the weak who lag behind, so easy for the collie to control.” He took a deep, audible breath. “Well, then. My hackles are raised. ’Tis time for the libation. My guests demand release.”

  Each of us took a lamp. The wolf leapt over the cabinet. Fewmany locked the hidden room. As we stepped across the library, I allowed the sadness for what it was—that I’d never see it again, touch these books, discover their secrets. As he slipped the lupine mask over his head, I extinguished the lamps’ flames. When the key set the door’s lock, I stifled a cry.

  Together we walked down the west stair and stopped on the landing. The wolf sat at my side, the leash slack in my hand.

  Fewmany surveyed the guests who scurried below, quick and agitated. I sensed his pleasure in their thrall.

  They’re waiting, I thought.

  The murmur quieted as pointed fingers and wide eyes turned toward us. Except for the music, the hall was almost silent. A torrent of warmth seared my limbs.

  “Exhilarating, isn’t it?” he said.

  I glanced up at his dilated pupils fixed on mine. My thighs, belly, breasts, mouth burned. My gaze returned to the revelers.

  “Oh-ho, yes, they see you. Fearsome and beautiful,” he said.

  “Your consort,” I said.

  “Were we to honor the old gods.” He offered his arm to me.

  I accepted, one hand stroking the fur down to his wrist.

  “Come,” he said softly, then again and again as he moved through the horde, parting the way into the ballroom.

  The music pounded in my ears. The heavy erotic scent leached into my skin. With averted eyes, a sheep-legged man held a crystal decanter out to Fewmany. He poured the first small glass. I took the ruby libation. A drop flowed over my tongue.

  The glass hovered close to my heart. My left hand dropped the leash and floated high, light as a trance. I grabbed the snout of his mask, lifted it from his head, and let it drop. With might, I clutched the fur around the brooch, dragged him toward me, and kissed him. His mouth softened in welcome then trapped my bottom lip against the edge of his teeth. When I felt him smile, I bit back, holding firm until the molten primal rush rising in me forced him to recede.

  “Forgive me,” I whispered, holding the red welt under his chin.

  As I swept into the hall, the wolf at my side, I gave my glass to a young man whose tight costume allowed no mystery of his contours. He resembled the detailed statues within the manor’s collection, but he was conscious, warm, alive.

  He swallowed the drink in one gulp. “Join me for a dance,” he said.

  My hands slipped along the front of his body. How I wanted to, my blood lasciviously laced, but when I looked into his eyes, I knew whose I wished to see in his place. Desire was not enough. Nikolas was asleep, safe behind the castle’s walls, where this longing could not yet touch him.

  DIARY ENTRY 2 MAY /38

  Nikolas delivered the public statement, repeated by the newsboxes. It’s supposed to appear in the longsheets tomorrow. Soon, every longsheet and newsbox in Ailliath. Although several advisers urged him not to, he sent letters to the kingdoms on the continent. They’ll have months, possibly years, to prepare, rather than weeks, if it comes to that, he said.

  Harmyn and I talked with Old Woman about returning to her village. Harmyn doesn’t think she’ll sicken (something to do with her shadows), but if she did, we can’t care for her alone. Once I sicken, she can’t be expected to tend me even with Harmyn’s aid. She wants to stay to help however she can. In the end, we convinced her, but she didn’t tell us when she’ll leave.

  I’m afraid to be left alone with Harmyn, though. Sometimes, we still rile each other. When I watch Old Woman with her, and think about how Old Woman was with me as a child, and is still, I see the Guardians’ ways in practice. Aoife wrote about their patience and kindness, a reflective rather than reactive way of treating others—my old friend does that. I’m learning, I’m trying, but I’ve never been responsible for another person. We won’t lack for shelter or starve—we have the cottage; what we can’t grow or forage, Nikolas will surely help—but to care for her. Can I do this? And eventually, I’ll have to tell Father.

  8 MAY /38

  Dear S—I could have waited to talk to you rather than risk a debilitating cramp from writing another note with infinitesimal letters, but I couldn’t get away tonight.

  Delegates’ mtg went well enough, better than I or certainly Mayor P & Council members expected. 82 delegates attended—representing, from census # received, 45,326 citizens, 1/4 children infant to age 17. You were right to suggest separating the groups for discussion. (How unaware I was in school the boys were so outspoken, the girls so silent, and didn’t consider this continues long after.) When they arrived, they segregated themselves straightaway, women & men, by station. Random groups wouldn’t have been helpful, not w/ emotions high as they were.

  Morning session was congenial; 10 small groups total & they had similar lists of concerns. What about the availability & cost of food; how would they stay in their homes if they couldn’t pay mortgages & rents; how would they be cared for if the last stage left them paralyzed; how would civil order be kept, etc. After the midday meal, when they discussed how to address the concerns, there were arguments within the groups but worse with cross-talk among the groups.

  Mayor & advisers did as I asked; they didn’t interfere—much. I knew most of them were annoyed, even angry. I should be demonstrating strength & leadership with clear edicts. As with all kings before me, declaring what’s for their own good. Hrumph-hrumph-hrumph. But what’s about to happen is unprecedented. How can they, or I, claim to know what’s best for a family in Elwip, Warrick, Peregrine?

  While I listened today, I thought of Aoife. Not until she found her new home with the Guardians did she start to unlearn the expectation of power & force. How she came to see the tenuous balance of caring for the whole with respect to the parts, & that in every moment, there is a choice—& not an absolute answer. These things, I must understand, too, if I am to lead, or guide, with compassion instead of might.

  Many plans still to be made, but we have a sense of what must happen. Rationing, without a doubt. Most agreed we should have voluntary service through charity orgs & leagues; new ones possibly—there was agreement we’ll need ward gardens to supplement our food supply. How we’ll manage the third phase when we can’t move, that will take more thought. I ordered the mayor to map the town into 12 areas and have each elect a person to serve on a committee with men from the Council. That’s sure to be well received.

  I know there wasn’t a good reason for you to attend today, but I still wish you’d been there. Fawning adoration for my regal prowess would have been welcomed. That, & you would have felt, as I did, history taking a turn.

  With love,

  Nikolas

  14 MAY /38

  ALMOST A YEAR HAD PASSED since I last saw my neighbors in Warrick. I’d thought of them on occasion, but as the plague’s threat became ever more imminent, I was concerned how they would fare, especially the Elgins’ children and the Misses Acutt.

  A greyhound steered Harmyn and me among the streets. Throughout our walk, Harmyn held the amulet at her neck and studied the people we passed.

  “The shadows are thick. Everyone is afraid . . . so much anger, too . . . and some want to know who to blame,” she said.

  “She walks among them,” I said.

  “It’s not so simple,” Harmyn said, “and you know it.”

  The walk-up’s facade looked the same, no cracks or crumbling, but the front door required force to open. The jamb appeared unlevel.

  I knocked on the Misses Acutt’s door. The tall one came first. “Why, Miss Riven! Lovely! Leave the door open for some air. Who have we here?”

  “Miss Acutt,
this is my friend, Harmyn.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Harmyn said.

  “Such a polite boy!” she said. Harmyn shook her head at me to leave the comment alone. “We must have cookies. Sister! We have visitors!”

  Tall Miss Acutt hobbled to the cupboard as the bedroom door opened.

  “Did you call me? Oh—look who’s returned,” Short Miss Acutt said.

  After I introduced Harmyn, this time eliciting a comment on her “costume,” I asked of the third sister. Tears rushed to their eyes.

  “She left us this winter. Pneumonia. She did not long linger. How we and Sir miss her,” Short Miss Acutt said.

  “I’m terribly sorry. I know how dear she was to you,” I said.

  Tall Miss Acutt laid a plate of cookies on the table. “Yes, yes. Child, eat.”

  I nodded at Harmyn to accept the treat.

  “How is your father?” Short Miss Acutt asked. “We’ve missed the little chats we’d have when he’d come by to see you. So dashing! If only one of us were twenty years younger—”

  “Sister, thirty, at least—”

  “Ah, bygones. The bloom has fully faded.”

  “He’s well, and I’ll be sure to tell him you inquired,” I said.

  “Now then. What of this plague? To think we’ll suffer as poor Sir did. Sister was convinced several times he was dead. He didn’t once move a muscle, not even when we carried him or tempted him with a morsel of fish,” Tall Miss Acutt said.

  A questioning meow piped up. Sir Pouncelot crept out, circled my ankles, and walked toward Harmyn. She bent to pet him.

  In the hall, footsteps tapped on the stairs heading out. A face peeked in. “All’s well, Misses?”

  “Hello, Miss Thursdale,” I said.

  Dora stepped into the apartment. “What a surprise—and your hair, too. Your assignment is complete, then?”

  “It is. How is Miss Sheepshank?” I asked.

  “Jane has had a good turn. A recent promotion at Fewmany Incorporated, head secretary for the Office of Mining and Mineral Rights.”

  “And you?”

  “I remain at Foxworth and Trent. Did Jane tell you, Misses, of the Woodmans?” Miss Thursdale asked.

  “She brought us the good-bye note this morning,” Tall Miss Acutt said. “They’re not the only ones fleeing with all they can carry. I’ve heard people have been leaving ever since the King announced the plague, the well-to-do sending their families to distant lands, those like us going as far as we can.”

  “I’ve heard some towns closed their borders and sentinels are turning them back,” Short Miss Acutt said.

  “That seems dubious. Unless someone is stopped and asked, no one would know whether one is from Rothwyke,” Miss Thursdale said.

  The building’s front door banged open. Lucas whisked up the stairs. Mrs. Elgin lagged behind with a basket in her arms. When she saw our group in the sisters’ apartment, she nodded, prepared to go on, until Short Miss Acutt called to her.

  “Good afternoon,” I said to Mrs. Elgin.

  “Miss Riven, good to see you’re well,” she said formally. “I can imagine what you’re discussing.”

  We nodded.

  “Strange, isn’t it, how this happens not long after the prince returns. The King and Queen die mysteriously, then the animals fall ill. I heard a newsbox report that no prince has ever completed his quest as quickly as this one. Something’s odd about that, don’t you agree, and suddenly, there’s a contagion in our midst,” Mrs. Elgin said.

  “Oh, but remember, strange things were happening soon after he departed. The ground problems in Old Wheel, the bodies—” Tall Miss Acutt said.

  “Bodies?” I asked.

  “My sister meant skeletons, old bones, rising up in the cracks. Dark humors surely escaped, too,” Short Miss Acutt said.

  “No one believes in bad humors anymore, Miss Acutt,” Miss Thursdale said.

  “Dear, that doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” Short Miss Acutt said.

  “Regardless . . . At market this morning, there was hardly a thing to buy. The shortages have started already, food, dry goods, and the like. The shopkeeps said people are hoarding,” Mrs. Elgin said.

  “Did you notice the traveling vendors? The elixirs and charms to ward off what’s on the way. A waste of money, if you ask me,” Miss Thursdale said.

  “Certainly, but we’ll all have to protect ourselves in the end,” Mrs. Elgin said.

  “Sister found our father’s old sword in the hope chest,” Tall Miss Acutt said.

  “Jane and I are keeping knives under the pillows,” Miss Thursdale said.

  “My husband will put another lock and a bar on the door soon. If you want the same, he’ll install them for you,” Mrs. Elgin said.

  “Still worried about his work, dear?” Short Miss Acutt asked.

  “I don’t know whether to fear more he’ll be crushed by the wall or lose his job because they’ve been ordered to stop. Either way, what would become of us?” Mrs. Elgin said.

  “There, there. Don’t borrow trouble,” Tall Miss Acutt said.

  The conversation stalled.

  “How is Julia? I hoped to see her today,” I said.

  Mrs. Elgin looked toward the door. “She was behind me when I came up the steps. She must be outside.”

  A moment later, the front door clicked shut and Julia crept to the sisters’ doorway. “Misses Acutt, may I play with Sir— Secret! You’re back!” She threw her arms around my waist. Mrs. Elgin cleared her throat. Julia released me. “We don’t like the man who moved into your apartment. He’s grumpy and smokes the smelliest pipe. I still have the books you gave me. I like to make up stories—”

  “Julia, enough,” Mrs. Elgin said.

  Tall Miss Acutt pointed to the table. “Go and have a cookie with Sir and Secret’s friend, Harry.”

  “Harmyn,” I said.

  Harmyn stood at her mention with Sir in her arms.

  “I know you,” Julia said. “You’re the boy who helped the rabbit and sang and the grown people cried and screamed. Mother, I told you about it. This is the boy, but his spectacles are gone. Look at your eyes. They’re so beautiful.” Julia reached to touch Harmyn’s face, but Harmyn backed away.

  “You told us that day you’re invisible. Can’t you all see him?” Julia asked.

  I looked at the women’s faces as they turned to Julia.

  “Of course we see him,” Mrs. Elgin said.

  “May we take the cookies outside? You’re just going to talk about the plague, and I’ve heard enough,” Julia said.

  “Leave the cookies,” Mrs. Elgin said.

  “Let the children have them. Please,” Tall Miss Acutt said.

  “We insist,” Short Miss Acutt said. “An early treat in honor of your birthday, Julia. Remind us how old you’ll be.”

  “Eleven. Thank you, Misses,” Julia said.

  I smiled at the children as they left the apartment with Sir Pouncelot at their heels.

  “That was kind of you, Miss Acutt,” Mrs. Elgin said.

  Tall Miss Acutt clasped her sister’s hand. “We remember the Brown Famine from our girlhood. We don’t yet know what the plague will bring.”

  DIARY ENTRY 16 MAY /38

  After the visit with the neighbors, when Harmyn was yet again confused for a boy, again I offered to buy her some new clothing. But no. She told me, “I am Harmyn, I’m a Voice, and that’s what matters,” and then was near tears when she said, “It’s safer to dress as a boy anyway. Aoife did it all the time, and tried to make Wei do it, too.28 Don’t you want me to be safe?” With that, I couldn’t argue. Old Woman insisted I let this be, so I shall.

  Tonight Nikolas taught Harmyn how to play chess, which she learned quickly. She’s very bright. A shame she’s had no schooling. This I’ll have to attend, once the plague is over.

  At last, Nikolas and I had time alone together, the first in weeks. We’ve exchanged dozens of notes, but it’s not the same. When what was between u
s was simply companionate, there was no physical craving. Now I want to touch him; sometimes it’s only affection, to hold his hand, to feel his arm around me, but when desire sparks—what restraint is at odds with the impulse!

  So tonight, we walked as we have a thousand times. Neither said or did anything, but the energy changed, and he had no warning when I turned in midstride and pressed my body to him tongue to thigh. No pause, no protest. He lowered me to the ground, our hands searching what our clothes kept hidden. Stayed hidden. (For now?) He started to laugh when we finally rolled apart. I asked why. “It’s embarrassing,” he said. “Tell me anyway,” I said. “I ache everywhere,” he said. “So do I,” I admitted, “almost unbearably.”

  When I returned, Old Woman had a talk with me. She could tell something was different between us. She said she knows I’m well aware of what is and isn’t acceptable “beyond the woods” as much as he is. Then she took several jars of dried herbs and one book from her shelves. There is plant lore a woman should know.

  22 MAY /38

  FATHER AND I HADN’T SEEN one another in more than a month. When he returned from his trip to Osrid, he sent a terse letter inviting me for tea. He made no mention of what I’d said about my mother.

  I didn’t go alone. For some time, I knew I’d eventually have to tell him about Harmyn, although I dreaded it. I asked her to come along, but with a warning I might lose my nerve. She agreed to wait outside and not wander too far.

  Because Father was expecting me, I used the hidden key to open the front door. It didn’t budge. I rapped the brass knocker. Father fumbled inside, let me in, and turned to secure three locks.

  “A precaution, for the coming plight,” he said. “Follow me.”

  We went to the third floor. The storage room had a new door, also with three locks. He opened it, the space stuffed full. “Flour, beans, dried fruit and meats, pickled vegetables, salt, spices, tea,” he said. He offered the ring of keys.

  When I looked at him, I hadn’t meant to convey judgment, but I had.

  He hardened his face. “You have never known want. I have never forgotten it. You are my daughter, and what is mine is yours.”