him.
"So what was she like?" said Swane, never known for subtlety.
"She was about seventy years old, and her hair was as white as snow, if you really want to know. And I stayed there because I just fell asleep when I sat down. You remember yesterday, we worked all bloody day long. I just went out like a light. I woke up this morning."
"Where was this?"
"On Foluran Hill." Relkin told his story once again, noting to himself how implausible it sounded.
"A likely story," groused Swane. "You just don't want us to know what really happened."
"Hold on, you think I'd cheat on Eilsa? You know me better than that, Swane."
"The dragons know something about you. Must have come from the Broketail."
"Oh this is great. Now you believe dragon gossip. You know that's worthless."
"Come on, Relkin, everyone knows you. You must have been well taken care of, you're all clean and so are your clothes."
"It's like I keep telling you, I talked this old lady out of jumping from the roof. They were going to give me some food and something to drink. I just conked out as soon as I sat down."
When it became apparent that they wouldn't pry anything more out of him, they tired of the sport and went back to the ever-present topic of the plague.
The news overnight had been sensational. A complete cut off in cases for six hours… a few cases in the morning, but then no more. It looked as if the witches were right. The campaign against fleas was succeeding.
"Jak's back," said Swane. "What's it like up in Lost Buck Woods?"
"They're still digging. I heard there's ten thousand buried up there so far."
"By the Hand," muttered someone.
"Well I can tell you this," said Manuel. "There's not a flea left alive in the dragonhouse."
"Hey, not that many left in the whole city by now," Curf chipped in.
"I bet there are some. There are always going to be some," groused Endi.
"But the plague has stopped…"
Cuzo's voice cut through the conversation, calling them to a parade. The day's assignments had come down.
With sighs and groans they tumbled out and formed up.
* * *
The rest of that day was much like the one before. They worked over the lower parts of the city eliminating rats and smoking out houses. When they finally could take no more they were sent back to take care of their dragons and then sleep.
Thus it went for three more days, by which time there had been no new cases of the plague for two whole days. It was over.
The black plague had been stopped in its tracks in Marneri, but there had been a loss of 13,155 poor souls, most of them buried in the huge charnel pits in Lost Buck Woods. Another 9,406 were infected, but survived the disease, though many of those died within a year or two.
After a citywide ceremony the monument to the dead was begun in Lost Buck Woods. Another was begun on the row of monuments which decorated the parade ground before the Tower of Guard. On it would be engraved the names of those who had died in the effort to stop the plague. Among the names would be that of Efen of the House of Debune.
And life went on. The tenements of Fish Hill and dockside were pulled down, and city planners began to work on their ultimate dream, clearing away the whole warren of slums and putting new commercial avenues through that would allow for expansion of the mercantile areas of Broad Street and Tower Street.
Marneri had taken a heavy blow, but had shrugged off the worst aspects and stood there with head unbowed.
Elsewhere in the Enniad cities the plague was also brought under control. It took longest in Kadein, of course, where more than a hundred thousand bodies were interred in ten enormous pits dug along the Kadein-Minuend road.
Ryotwa and Vo, both of which had been spared the plague, produced an unprecedented outpouring of resources to help the stricken cities. From Vo ships went to Vusk and Talion. From Ryotwa help was sent to all the southern cities, even to Marneri despite the legacy of hard feelings that still existed in
"So what was she like?" said Swane, never known for subtlety.
"She was about seventy years old, and her hair was as white as snow, if you really want to know. And I stayed there because I just fell asleep when I sat down. You remember yesterday, we worked all bloody day long. I just went out like a light. I woke up this morning."
"Where was this?"
"On Foluran Hill." Relkin told his story once again, noting to himself how implausible it sounded.
"A likely story," groused Swane. "You just don't want us to know what really happened."
"Hold on, you think I'd cheat on Eilsa? You know me better than that, Swane."
"The dragons know something about you. Must have come from the Broketail."
"Oh this is great. Now you believe dragon gossip. You know that's worthless."
"Come on, Relkin, everyone knows you. You must have been well taken care of, you're all clean and so are your clothes."
"It's like I keep telling you, I talked this old lady out of jumping from the roof. They were going to give me some food and something to drink. I just conked out as soon as I sat down."
When it became apparent that they wouldn't pry anything more out of him, they tired of the sport and went back to the ever-present topic of the plague.
The news overnight had been sensational. A complete cut off in cases for six hours… a few cases in the morning, but then no more. It looked as if the witches were right. The campaign against fleas was succeeding.
"Jak's back," said Swane. "What's it like up in Lost Buck Woods?"
"They're still digging. I heard there's ten thousand buried up there so far."
"By the Hand," muttered someone.
"Well I can tell you this," said Manuel. "There's not a flea left alive in the dragonhouse."
"Hey, not that many left in the whole city by now," Curf chipped in.
"I bet there are some. There are always going to be some," groused Endi.
"But the plague has stopped…"
Cuzo's voice cut through the conversation, calling them to a parade. The day's assignments had come down.
With sighs and groans they tumbled out and formed up.
* * *
The rest of that day was much like the one before. They worked over the lower parts of the city eliminating rats and smoking out houses. When they finally could take no more they were sent back to take care of their dragons and then sleep.
Thus it went for three more days, by which time there had been no new cases of the plague for two whole days. It was over.
The black plague had been stopped in its tracks in Marneri, but there had been a loss of 13,155 poor souls, most of them buried in the huge charnel pits in Lost Buck Woods. Another 9,406 were infected, but survived the disease, though many of those died within a year or two.
After a citywide ceremony the monument to the dead was begun in Lost Buck Woods. Another was begun on the row of monuments which decorated the parade ground before the Tower of Guard. On it would be engraved the names of those who had died in the effort to stop the plague. Among the names would be that of Efen of the House of Debune.
And life went on. The tenements of Fish Hill and dockside were pulled down, and city planners began to work on their ultimate dream, clearing away the whole warren of slums and putting new commercial avenues through that would allow for expansion of the mercantile areas of Broad Street and Tower Street.
Marneri had taken a heavy blow, but had shrugged off the worst aspects and stood there with head unbowed.
Elsewhere in the Enniad cities the plague was also brought under control. It took longest in Kadein, of course, where more than a hundred thousand bodies were interred in ten enormous pits dug along the Kadein-Minuend road.
Ryotwa and Vo, both of which had been spared the plague, produced an unprecedented outpouring of resources to help the stricken cities. From Vo ships went to Vusk and Talion. From Ryotwa help was sent to all the southern cities, even to Marneri despite the legacy of hard feelings that still existed in
Similar Books
