Part 7 (1/2)
”Be with you in a minute.”
He shuffled closer, though not so close as to be a distraction, and tried to peer around her to see the beaker and fluid more clearly.
”Does that have anything to do with why you called me?”
”No, this is just routine,” she replied. ”But I thought that, since I was here anyway, I might as well finish this off while waiting for you.”
Apparently satisfied, she turned off the flow from the fragile-seeming burette, carefully pushed the metal stand holding the slender gla.s.s wand back against the wall and sealed the beaker with a stopper. Only then did she turn around to smile at him, the crows-feet at the corner of her eyes merely emphasising the bright warmth of the expression.
”Thaiss, you look awful,” she said, the smile transforming into a concerned frown.
”Thank you; and there was me about to comment on how lovely you look.”
”Go right ahead. Don't let my candidness stop you.”
And she was lovely. The flashes of grey in her hair and the laughter lines around her eyes did nothing to diminish that; rather they were indications that the prettiness of the young woman he could still picture so clearly had matured into a deeper, more profound beauty.
Her frown was still there, though. ”You're working too hard as usual, aren't you? You've got to ease up.”
”I would love to; in fact, I determined only today to have an early night of uninterrupted sleep and recuperation, but then...”
She held up an apologetic hand. ”I know, I know... I'm sorry.”
”Jeanette,” he said softly, ”when have I ever complained if you're the one summoning me, whatever the hour?”
For a moment their eyes locked, memories of what they'd almost shared pa.s.sing between them in a glance. Then she looked away.
”Right,” he said, trying not to sound in any way awkward or embarra.s.sed, ”so what's the latest?”
Her expression darkened. ”Not good news, I'm afraid.”
He'd guessed as much, or she wouldn't have troubled him at such an hour. Before Jeanette could continue, however, there was a discreet knock at the door. She looked startled, clearly not expecting anyone.
”Sorry,” the prime master said quickly, ”I forgot to mention, I gave one of my colleagues the address and told him to meet me here.” He then raised his voice and called out, ”Come through, Thomas.”
The door opened and the young master stepped in.
”Thomas, I'd like you meet Jeanette, one of my dearest friends, Jeanette, this is...”
”...our newest master. Delighted to meet you, Thomas.”
Her smile took in first the younger man and then the older. The prime master could well imagine just how delighted she would be. Jeanette was always going on at him to share the burden of office and to not take on so much responsibility himself, so this development would please her no end.
”Jeanette, would you mind bringing Thomas up to speed before sharing your latest news?”
”Certainly.” She then slipped into a toned-down version of the lecture mode which the prime master had seen her adopt so often when addressing a roomful of attentive students or arkademics in training. ”It began in the Artists' Row,” she explained. ”Several people succ.u.mbing to a mysterious malady which local healers seemed unable to treat. As more fell victim, we were called in to try and identify the cause and provide an antidote. Meanwhile, the number of victims began to rise alarmingly and we were forced to impose a quarantine to prevent this from becoming an epidemic.”
Thomas looked shocked. ”I haven't heard anything at all about this.”
”Good,” the prime master said. ”We've attempted to keep a lid on it but you never know how successful you've been, especially given the way word of mouth travels around here.”
”Why keep quiet about it at all?” Thomas asked.
”Because of the nature of the disease.” The Prime Minister looked towards Jeanette, who gave a shallow nod and picked up the story again.
”What we're dealing with here is not simply a fever; it's worse than that, much worse. The disease physically attacks people, transforming them, killing them in the process.”
”Attacks them how?”
The woman looked at the prime master, who nodded. She moved to the back of room, where a large shuttered window dominated the far wall. At a touch of her hand, the shutters started to lift. The prime master took a deep breath; he knew what was to come.
A single table occupied the centre of the small room. On it lay a body, which, despite being the shape and size of a human, could never actually have been human, surely. So the brain insisted. The supine figure appeared to have been crudely chiselled from some form of rock or perhaps bone. Where there should have been skin and hair, there was instead a seamless film of an off-white substance that looked to have been dug from the ground rather than being anything that once breathed. Nor was this coating smooth and skin-like; instead it was lumpy and covered with b.u.mps, like some interrupted statue which the sculptor had yet to return to and complete.
”G.o.ds,” Thomas murmured. ”Was that ever human?”
”Oh yes,” Jeanette a.s.sured him. ”A few days ago this was a living, breathing man.”
”It's hideous.” Thomas seemed to be searching for a more dramatic description without being able to find it.
The prime master knew exactly how the other felt. He'd seen this several times before and still found it disturbing in the extreme; words, any words, were inadequate.
”For reasons that should be obvious, we call this disease bone flu.” Jeanette continued. ”The hands are the first to go, and then the arms. Sufferers complain of a tingling sensation, then an itching to the skin. This is swiftly followed by a loss of feeling to the affected limb which is accompanied by a process we've dubbed calcification. Calcium starts to permeate the skin, apparently drawn from the bones. Soon the skin is transformed into the brittle and inflexible sheath you see before you. The depositing of the calcium isn't entirely regular, hence the gnarly b.u.mps and protrusions you see here. From the transformed limb the infection spreads, rapidly. As the process progresses across the body, it starts to attack the vital organs as well. Once that happens the end isn't far away, though sufferers would doubtless wish it to be even nearer. Left to face the consequences unaided, they die in excruciating agony.”
Thomas was staring at the body on the other side of the gla.s.s and shaking his head, as if to deny such a thing could happen. ”I never imagined...” His voice trailed off.
”Now do you see why we're keeping this quiet until we've found a way to combat this abomination?” The prime master said quietly.
Thomas nodded, and then surprised his older colleague by saying, ”I wouldn't have thought there was enough calcium in the entire body to do this.”
Not for the first time, the prime master found himself impressed by this latest colleague's perception. Even in the face of such horror, the man's brain continued to function with remarkable clarity. ”There isn't, and that provides our disease with a final wicked twist. As far as we can tell, bone flu attacks only those with a smattering of talent, and it's somehow able to draw on that talent, using it to manufacture additional calcium within the body in order to complete the transformation process. Bone flu turns a person's own talent against them.”
”What?”
”This is something new Thomas, a threat the like of which the city has never faced before, if our damaged records are to be believed. We don't know where this bone flu originated, nor how. All we do know is that it's here, it's spreading, and to date the disease has proved 100% fatal. Everyone who contracts bone flu has died.”
”And I'm afraid I have some more bad news to add,” Jeanette said.
”Go on,” the prime master said, bracing himself.
”There's been a new outbreak, in the Residences. Bone flu has started attacking the arkedemics.”
He nodded, absorbing this. It was the sort of development they'd been dreading. Not unexpected news, but still a bitter blow.
”Has this new outbreak been contained?”