by J. K. Holt
At least this part was easy enough to absorb- she’d guessed as much. “So, what is it you want from me, then? I mean, from here forward.”
“That all depends,” Dray responded, “on what you choose to do with the information we’ve given you, and what your ultimate decision about us is. If you don’t trust us, or you do and don’t want any further part, go back to being your uncle’s keeper and we’ll stick to ourselves. Or, you could help us, as much as you want, depending on how comfortable you are getting your hands dirty. And mind, they will get dirty. We aren’t against working on the wrong side of the law to accomplish our means. So you’ll need to choose your place, where you stand. The only thing I can assure you is that if you do stand with us,” Dray stood as he spoke, and offered his hand to Tess, “we’ll stand with you, if the time comes.”
His grip was warm, his hands steady as he pulled her to her feet. He reached down, and Tess clenched, only to find him grasping the blanket that was wrapped around her. He tugged it loose from her legs, gently, and stuffed it back where it came from. He then nodded to her. “I think that’s enough information for you to absorb for one night, eh? If and when you do decide, you know where you can find us.”
Tess was inclined to agree with him. Her head hurt from all the thoughts swimming there, and she needed time to sort through it all. She slid out of the small shanty, walked for a moment, and turned back. Dray was lowering the last of the wooden shutters, and Ashe stood, uncertain, off to the side. His lack of confidence hurt Tess, as she’d become so used to his ease of manner and swagger, and she could see now that so much of it was down to her and the hurt he felt he’d caused her. That, in itself, spoke to his goodness.
Tess turned and walked back to him, grabbing him in a quick embrace. He molded to her immediately, returning the bear hug, unaware of how strong his grip could be until Tess squealed from the strain on her ribs. He loosened a bit, but held her for a moment longer before letting go. She craned her neck and looked up at his handsome face and threw him a wink before turning to walk back, steadied against the relentless wind that drove against her.
No matter what she decided, she couldn’t have Ashe thinking she hated him. Not when it wasn’t the truth.
∞ ∞ ∞
In the days that followed, Tess’s self-inflicted isolation had a purpose beyond the previous reasoning of wounded pride. She needed time, both to sort through the inflammatory theory that Ashe and Dray had shared with her as well as to determine how much she might be willing to believe about it.
A million unanswered questions jostled in her head, muddying her thinking until she took to writing them down, as they occurred to her. Some she knew that Dray or the others could easily answer for her. For example, how did Dray and the others know Tom before he got blurred?
Other questions felt as though they would have to remain unanswered. Why was Tom’s aura gone after he was blurred? Clearly, she had no aura and she was not suffering the same condition as he had. And, as no one else was aware of how she perceived them, they’d have no way of answering the question, and would immediately be suspicious or downright unbelieving if she asked it. There was no way that she could think to tackle that issue without it leading back in some way to her unusual method of appearance in this strange place
One thing she didn’t doubt- that Ashe and Dray, and likely the rest of the group as well, truly believed in this theory of theirs. But it was dangerous to follow others for that reason alone, especially when they weren’t inclined to be particularly objective. Dray and Ashe’s father had been one of the first to be blurred, which meant that there was a lot at stake for them. When you lost someone like that, Tess knew it felt better sometimes to have someone, something tangible to blame. Contaminated fish didn’t fit that bill as much as a shadow society with a secret purpose did. And when you went looking for the answers you wanted to find, you could always find them, even if it meant stretching the facts to make them fit. Maggie had taught her the dangers of this way of thinking- she was glad she remembered the lesson.
Tess needed some way to gather more information. She wasn’t as certain as Ashe and Dray that Gowan had some hidden piece of information- she’d spent a lot of time in this shop and while there was certainly more to be discovered, and more books to read, none jumped out at her as obvious other than one that Gowan kept up front, behind the display case in which he kept his medicinals: Common Diseases: Symptoms, Etiologies, and Treatments in the Alitura Greater Realm. Upon further inspection, it predated the first outbreak by several years, and was therefore useless. She wondered if, had the Reed brothers been right about Loren, he had reviewed the book and concluded the same.
Tess needed additional information, and she knew she would need to be pointed in the right direction. There was no way to do it casually, so she tackled it head on while Gowan sorted money at the till before they opened one early morning.
“If I wanted information on the Blue Plague; where could I go to find it?”
“What kind of information?” Gowan asked, continuing his count. He looked to be worried that he’d only encourage her by showing excessive interest in her question.
“Anything, I guess. The progression, signs and symptoms, how to treat it? I mean, if it’s been going on for years, there would have to be some sort of pamphlets they handed out, right?”
Gowan considered. “The apothecary across town might have something. You might check there.”
“Okay, good. What about records?”
“Records?”
“Yes- about the people who have been affected. Names, ages, occupations- that sort of thing.”
Gowan finally set down his money and looked at her. “Any list would be far from exhaustive. As many as half of those affected aren’t reported. Families just hide them away, rather than suffer the sympathy of others, or… well, they end up like your old friend Tom.”
Tess winced. “I understand. But if I wanted any information that had been recorded?”
“Town hall, best guess. Do you remember Mae Boyner, from the first day I met you? The one you helped find the items to buy? She works there. I suppose you could tell her I sent you. She owes me a favor, and you could give some excuse as it might relate to my own bookkeeping.”
“Really? I will, thanks.”
She’d not taken more than a step before he cleared his throat. “A quick word? And then that will be all of it. Careful of what you might disturb on this quest of yours.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning this may be a bad idea.”
Tess might have feigned ignorance but for the deal she’d made with Gowan to be honest whenever possible. Instead, she settled for, “I’ll do my best not to take chances. Okay?”
Gowan merely grunted and closed the till.
∞ ∞ ∞
The apothecary was situated on the outskirts, not far from where Tess has first “traded” her clothes for a more suitable pair on the clothesline, and she wondered passingly about their fate. That had been a favorite hoodie of hers, and its loss was never more keenly felt than on a day like today, when the cold was bitter and there were altogether too few garments here that had hoods attached. Note to self- befriend a tailor and make some alterations to my current attire. Tess put the bullet at the bottom of the to do list in her head, directly below determine if the Reed brothers are delusional.
The tiny woman behind the counter sat up from her stool when Tess pushed in, and it looked as though she might have been pulled from the pleasures of an afternoon nap. She was none too happy to see Tess, and less when she realized that Tess was uninterested in buying anything, but instead inquiring after information printed on the Blue Plague. Reluctantly, she disembarked from her perch and shuffled towards the back, where she could be heard moving a few boxes and rustling papers. Silence followed, and Tess wondered if the woman had again fallen asleep, possibly nested somewhere cozily among the inventory. She was just about to venture behind the counter to investigate when the w
oman reappeared, clutching a few random parchments. She shoved them at Tess with a gesture that seemed to signify that she’d better be quick about it.
“Might I have these?” Tess asked, quickly amending, “I mean, purchase these, from you?”
The woman showed mild interest for the first time, and threw out a number, which Tess gladly paid to be gone from the miserly woman’s company and gaze. She tucked the papers into her outer shirt and hurried back towards the center of town. With any luck, the town hall would be open as well, or she’d have to come back at another time- she was needed at the Muddy Gull before too long.
Located directly in the center of town, the town hall building towered a block west of the market, fronting a busy street. Four columns rose two stories at the front façade, newly painted brick casting an ethereal reflection of the auras of those passing beneath it. Here was a place meant to portray strength… and possibly intimidation.
After a few wrong turns, Tess stumbled upon the Records section, hearing before she saw the two women engaged in the catty gossip of boredom. One stood to the side of the desk, a glimmer of wicked interest in her eyes, as she leaned forward with a predatory glance while listening to the other woman impart some particular juicy piece of information.
“….but Lyla’s husband wasn’t even there,” the other woman whispered dramatically, her back to Tess, though she quickly stiffened and turned when a glance from the first told her that there was a potential eavesdropper. Upon turning, Tess saw that it was indeed Ms. Boyner; there was the telltale snobbish look of a woman who felt herself better than the common man, though she herself worked a common job and spoke greedily of the misdeeds of her townspeople. Pity she wasn’t born in my old world, Tess wondered. Her reach could have extended so much further with access to the world wide web and social media.
“Hello,” Tess said, advancing further into the space. Tall stacks of scrolls and books cloistered behind the reception desk, disappearing into the gloom upon losing the natural light allowed from the window. Just as she had always reacted to walking first into a library, Tess stopped short to allow admiration for all the knowledge that was gathered here. More than any one person might glean in a lifetime, the riches kept in such a congested space.
Ms. Boyner cocked her head. “May I help you?” she said with an air that indicated she’d prefer to do anything but.
“Yes,” Tess said. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but we met several weeks back, in Gow-, in Mr. Rudge’s shop?”
At his name, Ms. Boyner’s eyes softened, becoming almost charitable. “Oh! Yes, I do remember you, of course.”
“I’m working there now, at the Muddy Gull,” Tess said, remembering the rest of the lie. “He’s my uncle, you see.”
An eager interest glinted in Ms. Boyner’s eyes at the imparted information, and Tess wondered about the nature of her curiosity. Perhaps Gowan was the subject of some gossip Tess was unaware of, or possibly just his solitary nature invited curiousity. Briefly, Tess considered that the interest might be romantic- maybe Ms. Boyner had been Gowan’s mystery date during the Queen’s Jubilee. Tess hoped he had better taste.
“And what can I do for Gowan’s niece, then?” Ms. Boyner asked.
“I’m looking for some records about the Blue Plague. My uncle’s reviewing his books for the most recommended medicinals for certain treatments, and I noticed that he doesn’t have anything recorded on that particular disease.” The lie felt flimsy but it was the best Tess had been able to come up with on her walk here.
“Well, we don’t keep those here, dear. Those kind of records will be kept by the officials before being compiled and sent to Turand. We only keep records of death and birth, that sort of thing.”
Tess felt stymied, but unwilling to give up. “The records of death, then? Can I see them, from around the time the Blue Plague started?”
Ms. Boyner gave her a pitying look, as if she were touched in the head, before answering. “You may, though as the Blue Plague doesn’t actually kill its victims, at least not in the truest sense, you won’t find much other than a possible footnote here or there.”
“I understand. I’d still like to look. It might still be useful.”
Ms. Boyner shrugged, as if to say it’s your time, waste if it you want to, before disappearing towards the back shelves. The other woman, seeming to grasp that no additional gossip would be immediately forthcoming, slunk away, and Tess took a seat at a small table in the front while she waited. Ms. Boyner soon returned, plunking down a couple of worn but well cared for journals in front of Tess before returning, lazily now that her captive audience had fled, to her seat behind the desk. Aware of curious eyes on her, Tess was determined not to care, and she began to peruse.
Twenty hours later, nearly delirious from lack of sleep, Tess clambered into the bakery, finding a startled Emmie behind the counter. As soon as she could catch her breath and steady her thoughts, she spoke.
“I believe you all. I do. And I think I have proof.”
Chapter Eight
They gathered round the large back table at the Spilling Inn, packed tightly, each member vying for elbow room as they leaned forward collectively, creating a tight boundary between themselves and the rest of the world, though it was unnecessary; at this hour of mid-morning the lunch crowd had yet to arrive and they were alone in the large area, though Tess could hear Russ and Rosie’s parents in the back rooms, bickering about something or other. A faint haze of smoke drifted lazily around the room from the newly constructed fire, casting the rest of the room in a spectre-like glow as the light from the flames filtered through it. It made the whole meeting seem all the more surreal.
Russ delivered steaming mugs of catfish soup (lunch special, he’d said, which likely meant he’d pilfered it from the back when his parents were otherwise occupied) and Tess took a sip, grateful for the heat and the fleeting distraction. Now that all eyes were upon her, she’d started to regret her great declarations of yesterday, which seemed entirely too grand in restrospect.
Dray reminded everyone why they were there, and then indicated to Tess that she had the floor.
“Right,” she said. “I’m not quite sure where to start. I guess after Dray and Ashe told me what you all suspect about the Blue Plague, well…I think it’s fair to say that I had some doubts. I mean, the story was more than a bit fantastical, shadow organizations and-” Tess broke off when she saw Dray frown and Rosie roll her eyes. Her own temper flared in response- this was going to take all day if they were going to be against her from the start. “Look,” she said, glaring at them, “you can’t expect people who don’t know the history here to just go around and fall for your hairbrained ideas, hook line and sinker. If other people do, they’re idiots- I’m not. Or they’re just having you on and laughing at you behind your back. Unless you’d rather I do that, you need to just take the attitude down a few notches, alright?”
Rosie had the good sense to blush- she shook her head and looked down, setting her mouth into a firm line. Dray sighed and leveled cool grey eyes at Tess before raising his hands in a ‘truce’ gesture. Tess made a face at him she hoped signaled a current inability to put up with his foul mood before continuing.
“So, I decided to do a little research of my own. First I went to the apothecary and was given some information, really just a few different pamphlets that had been distributed in the beginning, when the Blue Plague had just cropped up-” she pulled them out of the small carry-bag she’d borrowed from Gowan for this exact presentation and deposited them on the table. I submit to the court Exhibit A, she thought wryly.
“-and then I went to the Town Hall. The woman who works there, Ms. Boyner, pulled the death records from the time the plague started several years back. So I started going through the records, and after a while I started noticing some mentions of the disease in some of the footnotes of the stranger causes of death, most of which were listed as accidental. For example,” she recited from the notes she had pulled out
, “a ‘Jonathan Baltreze’ was run over by a horse and its rider on the road outside of town, and the injuries sustained from that encounter are listed as his cause of death, but then directly underneath it the person recording it notes that others had reported that he was acting strangely, stumbling along, and was not prone to drinking, so his behavior seemed quite abnormal to passersby who knew him. I guess it also explains how he wound up randomly walking in front of a horse coming down the road.”
She could tell they were following her now, attentive but cautious, as anyone might be when they’ve been promised the big reveal from a magician but have only yet seen the smoke and mirrors. She hurried on.
“So, there are several other cases noted like this over the course of a couple months. I could read them to you but I think you get the gist? Right. So then I found an entry by a woman who signed herself Jane Hearst, ‘nurse and doctor’s aide’. I can’t be sure, but I think she might have been new to the area, because I hadn’t seen any other entries by her before this point and I even looked back a couple of years before this and still didn’t find any, even though they’re usually only entered by a few different people who might have the necessary training to record these deaths. So this Ms. Hearst, she wrote of a man’s death- I don’t know if I wrote down his name, or couldn’t decipher it, because her writing was close to illegible it was so sloppy-” Tess stopped at a gentle hand settling over hers under the table- Emmie, signaling her to slow down a bit. Tess took a breath and squeezed her hand back before continuing.
“-But anyways, I copied down verbatim exactly what I could decipher from her entry. She wrote the cause of death for this man as drowning, but then here’s the part that I could make out from the footnote: ‘several witnesses report that he was not responsive to their calls directly before walking off the pier, and that he had a glassy stare, unfocused face, and a stumbling gait. Interview with wife concludes that he was not prone to bouts of despair and I cannot in good faith conclude that he intended to jump. Concern noted that this appears to be a possible case of deadening disease, as noted last in North Lonely Isle. Potential spread to this area? Will caution local medical authorities.’ Then she’s signed it.”
