eligos
patreon
Monarch - Lillian I
🕑 Added 2023-01-19 00:45:39 +0000 UTCThe cat was dead.
Lillian crouched, careful to keep her skirts clear of the gutter as she placed the sleeve of milk aside and leaned down to get a better look. A slow sadness washed over her as she removed a canvas glove and pressed her fingers to the creature’s neck, finding nothing but damp cold.
“Damn this cold.” Lillian dropped her hand, careful to keep it away from her clothes and glove.
If it was sick, she could have cured it. She had an entire stock at her fingertips at the apothecary. While many didn’t work on animals, a few did.
But it was too late.
Her father told her, once, that death was the ultimate malady. One that would take all of them in the end. And as much as she disliked dwelling on such morbid notions, it was hard not to on days like today.
She’d tried her best to keep it alive, but she knew when she found it curled up next to the fire pit that its chances were low. Practically non-existent. A lame rear leg severely hampered its mobility and prospects of finding a shielded and elevated place to sleep as many strays in the city did. Safe from guards and other animals shielded from the frigid wind.
Gunther—her father—had forbidden her from bringing it inside.
“Cats are filthy, sweetheart. They ain’t like the dogs. Dogs are different. With dogs, you give em a place to sleep, food, they stay put. Cats though. Soon’s you open a door for longer than a second, they’re gone. There’s no takin’ the city out of ‘em. Eventually she’ll come back, carrying gods know what, and she’ll want in. Then do it all over again the next day. Can’t rightly run an apothecary with disease vectors runnin’ around, can we?”
He might have softened if she begged. Wore him down. She’d done it before. The runt hunting hounds that graciously warmed her feet at night were permanent tenants in the apothecary thanks to putting her foot down.
But that was years ago, before her official apprenticeship. Before she understood how quickly and brutally sickness could tear through a community, and how the sick—many of whom were likely to visit an apothecary—were far more susceptible to catching other illnesses when their natural defenses were compromised.
So in the end, Lillian made the call. She built the cat a nest off to the side of the apothecary, protected and insulated it from the wind with wooden scraps, gave it water laced with supplements to fortify its strength, fed it with whatever was left on her plate after meals, and prayed for Elphion’s mercy in the hazy twilight between wake and sleep.
From that first night weeks ago she’d told herself that she was making the correct decision. The responsible, adult decision.
She was decidedly less confident now.
”Mew.”
Lillian blinked, staring at the cat. The outline of snow surrounding it was undisturbed. It hadn’t moved. Had she imagined—
“Mew.” More insistent this time. Muffled. As if it instead of coming from the creature’s mouth, it was coming from beneath the animal. Acting quickly, Lillian reached beneath the cat’s spine and shifted it up and to the side. Something sharp caught her palm, and she yanked her hand free.
A single bead of blood welled from a cut so small it was almost invisible. She stared at it, then down.
Two kits—their eyes blue in infancy, mewled miserably at their uncovered state. They were hours old and could barely stand, every attempt to do so an abject failure. One light gray with dark patches, one dark with white feet. From a look, she knew it was the dark one that had scored her, its mouth taut and wide, displaying pink gums that had yet to develop teeth.
“Aren’t you a feisty one?” She poked at it. The dark kit swatted at her finger and tumbled over. Lillian couldn’t help but smile.
She’d failed their mother. But as Gunther frequently said, being an apothecary wasn’t about dwelling on past failures. It was about doing what you can, when you can.
/////
“Can’t do it.” Old man Rin stared at the basket on the counter. She’d placed it there to draw his eye, but as soon as the two kits were inside, swaddled in blankets, they’d fallen asleep. She’d been hoping to ply him in trade.
So far, it wasn’t going well.
“Come now,” She said. “If you’d just consider—“
“I’m tellin’ ye, I can’t do it. I like you girlie. We all do. But between taking care of mine and the price of grain this season, I can’t afford to tack on two new mouths to feed.” He snuck a sympathetic glance at the basket. “Small as they be.”
Lillian took in the establishment. The bakery was washed in the scent of bread, and barely perceptible haze of smoke hung in the air. Back a way, near the ovens, several sacks of flour were bunched up against each other, trace contents spilling out from small perforations at the bottom of the bag.
“Looks like you have a small infestation on your hands,” she said.
“Looks like you have a small infestation on your hands.”
Rin turned to where she looked. “Aye. Ain’t no living in Topside without dealing with the rats.”
She’d considered this angle, but focused on offering the kits as companions for his children, first. Perhaps that was a mistake. She rested an arm on her elbow and appeared deep in thought.
“If only there was some way of controlling their population. Protecting your supply. Something that hunted them. A small animal perhaps.” Her eyes slid to the basket. “Or two.”
Rin raised an eyebrow. “Mind your cheek. If’n when—”
The man cut off, his chest heaving, turning to the side before he exploded in a raucous series of coughs. He paused, clearing his throat several times. Now that she was paying attention, there was a dark pallor around his eyes. Lillian took a step back, fear coiling her mind.
“Is it?” She asked.
In these days, those two words were all that was necessary.
“Gods I hope not.” Rin shook his head, paused. “Don’t think so, anyway. Stuck around for a week but ain’t killed me yet.”
“That’s a good sign.” Lillian said, taking the man in with an analytical eye. Gray plague didn’t always kill quickly, though that wasn’t common knowledge. Sometimes the incubation period lasted abnormally long, using the host as a carrier for an extended period. Gunther theorized that variation was far more dangerous, as the potential for spread increased exponentially.
“No other symptoms?” Lillian asked.
“Nah. Just the cough.” Rin answered. But the hesitation, paired with the queer look in his eye gave her the impression he wasn’t being entirely upfront. “It’s not like I can afford perusin’ an alchemist and picking up a miracle cure. I’ll survive. Always do.”
It could have been anything. There were countless illnesses that regularly made the rounds in Topside. A cough was a common symptom. Darkness around the eyes could be from almost anything, lack of sleep, nutrient deficiency. The two together didn’t necessarily mean anything. They wouldn’t know for sure until his skin turned ashen, and by then, it’d be too late.
“May I have a look at you?” Lillian asked.
Rin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’ll it cost me.”
Lillian smiled. “Not a thing. Consider it a free consultation, for all the business you’ve brought us.”
After a moment of thought Rin inclined his head, and she followed him into the back.
Lillian catalogued what she needed. The small spike of fear dissolved beneath practiced professionalism as she dragged a wooden stool from the corner and stood atop it. If it was the plague, she’d be able to tell from a closer look. But she needed to protect herself too. She drew a rag from the fraying bag at her hip and covered her mouth and nose with it. As far as precautions went, it wasn’t ironclad, but with communicable sickness, every bit helped.
She stood on the stool in front of Rin, rag still pressed to her face, and performed a series of tests. First she checked his eyes, moving her finger back and forth and observing his reaction speed. He tracked it with no issue, and unless it was devilishly subtle, there was no yellowing at the edges of his sclera.
After that, she awkwardly drew a small deck of repurposed playing cards and tested his acuity. It wasn’t the quickest she’d seen, but he didn’t get any wrong. And he was older, bordering on forty. As the saying went, Topside aged a person. Forty in Topside might as well have been eighty anywhere else.
Then, with no small anxiety, pushing the rag against her mouth and nose so hard it almost hurt, she asked him to open his mouth. It always started in the throat. She needed to see his tonsils. This was the best way to make a ruling and unfortunately, the most dangerous part. If it was advanced, his throat coated in gray, a thousand rags filtering the surrounding air wouldn’t make a single lick of difference.
She pressed his tongue down with an iron spatula, and squinted.
Nothing but pink and red.
Lillian smiled, withdrawing the implement and stepping down from the stool. “There’s some mucus and irritation. Otherwise, you’re all clear. Probably just a cold.”
Rin breathed a sigh of relief, his body seeming to deflate as he shed tension and anxiety that must have plagued him for quite some time. “Thanks, lass.”
“Of course.”
They emerged from the storeroom and Rin glanced towards the line of ovens, each tended by a baker’s assistant. “Big order from the Castle for a banquet tonight. Wasn’t sure what I’d do if it compromised the goods.”
Lillian cocked her head. She hadn’t heard about that, but she didn’t exactly have her “What are they celebrating?”
Rin snorted. “Always somethin’. Give a noble an excuse to drink and he’ll drink. Might be the only thing we got in common.”
“I see.”
She didn’t. Not really. There was some truth the Rin’s words, but if the banquet was big enough that the bakeries in larger districts were so overloaded with orders that they were shopping around topside, it meant there was a massive turnout. And hopefully, plenty of nobles searching for something to soothe their hangovers.
They returned to the front of the store. Old Man Rin paused at the basket, lifting the blanket and revealing a stirring kit, placing it down again. Then he retrieved a fresh loaf of bread from beneath the counter and handed it to her. Instead of a gift, it felt like an expression of regret.
“Much as I appreciate you and yours, doing what you do. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” He said with an air of finality.
Lillian chewed her lip. There was one last thing she could try. “What you said, about not being able to afford the alchemist’s potions. What if you didn’t have to?”
“Not sure what you’re getting at,” Rin said.
The spike of anxiety from earlier returned, for an entirely different reason.
“I’m working on something.” Lillian began. “One of Gunther’s old projects. He dropped it a long time ago, but there have been advancements since, and going through his notes, I think it has promise. Could make the plague a thing of the past. If you caught it, you wouldn’t need gold slivers no one has for expensive potions no one can afford. Just a daily regimen of medicine. Affordable medicine.”
“For how long?”
“Two weeks at most. Probably only ten days, but two weeks to be certain.”
“You looking for an investment?”
Lillian pushed the basket forward. “That, and someone to take these little ones off my hands. They won’t be this small for long. It’s easy to care for them. With careful instruction, even a child could do it—” she emphasized that point, hoping Rin would seize on the fact that he could pass off the kittens to his children, the actual fostering requiring little effort on his part. “—and as much as I’d like to, much of the work I need to accomplish in the coming days is time sensitive.”
“I won’t lie. It would be nice to give the rats a run for their money for a change… and to finally rest easy about that gods damned blight.” Rin drummed his fingers on the counter. “I’m listenin.”
Comments
John Brady Anderson
Thank you for the chapter!
Jim
Hm. Seems like the seeds being sown for a future arc. I wonder if the Grey plague has something to do with that magical corruption? I wonder how Lillian's presence will develop, given her screen time. I'm convinced Lillian and Cairn ( or maybe Maya?) will meet completely by accident. But in what context?
