The ill warrior lay on an infirmary cot, surrounded by sweat and shirtless. His skin was pale and inflamed, and he shifted his position as Farek watched, groaning and twisting onto his side. Matek didn’t notice his friends watching him in concern, though the healer assured them that he was not unconscious in the conventional sense.
“It’s sleeping sickness,” the doctor, named Rodim, said, stepping closer to Farek’s crossed elbows. When they had arrived in Rodim’s village, a week earlier, the healer had listed nearly a dozen illnesses that could be suffering their friend—including the flu, yellow fever, and Chorgis disease.
“What does that mean?” Farek asked.
“Right now: fever, restlessness, muscle pains, wasting,” Rodim muttered. “It’s not contagious, but it will get worse.”
Diaren turned to face the healer, his face pained. “Until what end?”
“Matek will fall into an endless sleep if his illness is untreated,” the healer explained to them. “His body will lose the ability to regulate wakefulness and the world of dreams. Eventually, his fever and sleeping will deepen until his organs start to fail. He’ll die, though thankfully he’ll sleep through the worst of it.”
Farek sighed. “Thankfully?” he muttered. “You said untreated. How do we treat it?”
Rodim shrugged. “There are three options. None of them good,” he said. “I can keep him strong with tea and herbs, keep his vitals up. There’s a slim chance his body may fight the illness.” The man turned to stand between them and Matek. “I could also brew a medicine, known as Urgilin’s Cure. When administered, it would greatly increase the chances of Matek’s recovery. It has side effects. It might leave him with poor sight or even blindness.”
Blindness. Matek’s life would change. Farek saw the poor warrior’s feet coalescing within the plain beige sheets on his cot. He looked back at the healer. “You said there were three options,” he pointed out.
“You could try to find a magician,” Rodim said, quietly. “None around here, but that’s the only chance Matek has of recovering without side effects. Find a good healer.”
Farek blinked. The chances weren’t high either, but most proper-sized cities would have a few. They could back track to Oshibor in search of a healer, or continue on to New Mallam. He nodded to the healer as thanks; doctors without magical ability were hardly a rare occurrence, but their often candid recommendation of others with greater ability, always seemed to Farek to be a code of honour and nobility. “Thank you, sir,” Farek said. The infirmary next to the doctor’s workroom held six beds, but currently housed only three individuals.
A few steps to follow Diaren and Sievus for the door were interrupted by Matek’s call. “Farek,” the sickly warrior said.
Farek turned back, forcing an encouraging smile. “Wait for me outside,” he told the others. He walked across the infirmary, past Rodim, and sat down on the three-legged stool near Matek’s bed.
“I don’t want to…” the sick man trailed off, forcing his legs straight and moaning quietly. “I don’t want to be the reason your mission fails. My duty is to your goals, and I won’t rest easy if I’m the reason you fail them.”
Farek smiled in earnest, and patted Matek’s sweaty hand. “Relax, Matek,” he said. “We have time to spare. Besides, our mission could be riskier with only three men.”
With pain, his friend returned a weak smile. “Thank you, sir,” he whispered. He turned his face, squeezing his eyes closed.
“Keep resting,” Farek said.
The sun was still rising outside, casting rays of light down the coast of the Great Isle. The little fishing village they had found was built in the crook between one of the rocky points that jutted into Copper Cove and the gently arm of land north of it. It consisted of only about ten buildings, not counting a few storage huts and outhouses, but Rodim’s clinic serviced half a dozen villages along the coast.
Diaren and Sievus leaned against a small fence made of interlocked stones. They looked at Farek grimly as he latched the doctor’s door behind him. “What are we going to do? Will you pay for the medicine?” Diaren asked. “Sievus and I will help out.”
“No,” Farek said. “We’re going to find a magician.”
They both blinked, and Diaren sighed in relief. They hadn’t considered that a real possibility, but it had to be.
Farek nodded. “Diaren, go and buy us some supplies. And get some extra fresh water from the well up the hill—we’ll need to keep Matek hydrated. Sievus, I want Candro’s Crossing ready to go in two hours. Make it happen.” They both jumped to as his orders left his mouth. Farek bobbed his head again and turned to walk up the steps to Rodim’s front door again. They’d sail to New Mallam, not backtrack. And they’d find the best damned healer they could for Matek.