WHEN ISAIAH WOKE up, he felt confused. More than he’d done the first morning he’d been back in his own bed. Perhaps even more than when he’d woken up in Tara’s house, and this time, he knew for a fact something had gone wrong. Though the sun was up, it wasn’t morning. He wasn’t in a bed but laying on a sofa, fully clothed. These first observations made him get up more abruptly than he should have, only for his head to remind him of its loss of potency and force him back down. His memory of the hell-like street returned, though he didn’t know how long ago it’d been – or where he currently was. Looking around, he concluded he was inside a home. The terrible noise appeared as more of a summing sound in there, luring in through a large, open window some feet away.
“You’re awake.” The voice came from a man sitting in a moss green chair, just slightly out of his eye-reach.
“Hello… yes, at least I think I am...” Isaiah managed to respond, hoarse and still feeling strangely disoriented.
“Please, drink some water, Sir.” The man got up and gave him a big, bronze colored cup that’d been standing on a beautifully crafted, wooden table next to him. It was the first time anybody had called him Sir. He didn’t think of himself as one, but as he turned his head to take the cup, he didn’t care to correct him.
“Thank you.” He drank greedily, feeling he should find something polite to say or ask. Before he got the chance, a round woman with shoulder long, sunny hair and large, sparkly, brown eyes entered.
“You’re awake! Hello, dear, I’m Alice.” She said in a loud, sweet voice, then squatted down in front of him and felt his forehead. Surprised by the touch, he instinctively pulled away.
“So, so. It’s alright, I am only checking your temperature.”
“Thank you…” He uttered, but it took even more of him than usual to speak.
“Don’t worry about talking dear, just nod for now, alright?” Liking her suggestion, and the warmth in her eyes, he nodded accordingly. At least it seemed he’d (quite literally) fallen into good hands and though losing consciousness in the middle of the street was quite an alternative way of getting off of it, he was relieved he’d managed to do so before it had swallowed him alive.
“Your temperature seems fine… have you drunk and eaten well these past days?” he nodded, though not sure if bear meat could be categorized as well. Cyra had been very strict about cooking it thoroughly.
“Alright. Well, you look like you’ve come from a long journey, so it’s possible you’re just a little dehydrated and exhausted.” The explanation didn’t completely convince him, and that was when he thought of the plant he’d assumed to be basil. If it hadn’t been, and was in fact something else, could it have poisoned him through one of the small scratches on his hand? If so, what would happen to Cyra? She hadn’t complained about her leg, and it had looked better when they checked it in the morning. Still, he knew with certainty some poisons could be discrete, and she could just as well not have felt the pain. The terrible images appearing in his head were abrupted by Alice, as she started pulling out strange looking things from a big, red bag.
“There now, I’m a doctor, so you have nothing to worry about.” Isaiah nodded again and observed as she browsed through numerous odd-looking instruments (none of them being colorful stones or strange teas). He felt a little relieved she wasn’t a healer, but that was only until she pulled out a long, thick needle.
“What is that?”
“This is a cannula. Though, I doubt there is anything seriously wrong, I think it’d be better if we ran your blood through the Analyzer – just in case. Sometimes we can detect diseases with it... and well, my eyes are good but if there is something more invisible going on with you, I won’t be able to see it.”
“Analyzer?”
“Yes, it is a fairly new invention… we haven’t found a better name for it yet. My husband, Robert, is a scientist you see.” Isaiah thought their Nagárian names peculiar. Robert, now standing over at the window, was a well-dressed man with dark brown, nearly black hair and a finely groomed mustache. He gave a modest nod and a subtle smile in his direction. All Isaiah had ever heard about scientists was that they tried explaining things people found unexplainable. The new academics, some called them.
“I am what you might call a chemist.” Robert explained. “It is much like an alchemist, only much more useful in these modern times.” Someone had once mentioned Raziel Mongoya was a talented alchemist, which Isaiah understood to be something in between a scientist and a sorcerer. He didn’t exactly know what the difference was, but while a sorcerer created and saw dark things, the alchemist made gold and other precious metals. From his understanding, a scientist could do neither of these things. He would be able to explain the metal and its qualities, while a sorcerer probably couldn’t make gold themselves and likely wouldn’t care to explain it to anyone either. Still, they could make other things – vicious things – and they could make them out of thin air.
Isaiah flinched as Alice stung her needle into his middle finger, and then pressed drops of his blood onto an oval piece of glass. Allowing a stranger to take his blood was not particularly pleasant, but he had little to no strength to resist.
“Can your Analyzer detect poison?” He asked, and Robert, who till now had an overall serious appearance, made a sound of almost childlike excitement.
“I’m not sure. But we’ll soon know if it does.” Isaiah was nowhere near as excited as his host, but decided that if anything was wrong with him, he’d rather know it sooner than later. He wanted to ask them to check his brain too, but it might give Alice a reason to sting her needle into it – and he was in no such mood. Instead, he used the remainder of his strength to ask if they could close the window, which they did, along with the heavy, blue patterned curtains.
“Rest now, dear.” Alice said, a warm, motherly smile forming on her lips, just before he drifted off again’ this time, fortunate to already be laying down.
Waking up for the third time that day, there was no longer any sun or noise coming from the street. Turning his head, Robert was sitting in the same chair, reading a new book that was bigger than any other Isaiah had ever seen. It was dark blue, and on the cover, it simply stated “Chemistry”.
“Where am I?”
“Oh, you’re awake…” Robert said, closing his book. “You are also safe, I assure you. How are you feeling?” Isaiah considered the question for a moment, and other than disoriented he thought he felt quite a lot better. His head less heavy, and his heart beating as usual.
“Okay, I think.”
“The Analyzer agrees. I’ve not reached a conclusion concerning the poison yet, but from what I’ve seen, it seems perfectly normal. I must apologize if Alice startled you with the needle, she is just always so concerned about people bringing disease from the outside. Not good for their sake – or our own.”
“So, no poison then?” He asked, hopefully.
“It doesn’t seem likely.” Robert responded, smiling reassuringly as his reading lantern revealed subtle bags underneath his eyes.
“Did she give me any medicine?”
“No. Alice said it would be better for you to sleep it off first. And it seems you managed to do that without our help.” Isaiah was displeased with the way his body had started dismissing him lately, and that Robert was still sitting there, made him feel he was preoccupying people with much more important work.
“I appreciate you taking me in.”
“Oh, no trouble at all, Sir.” Robert said, walked over to him and gestured for him to give him his hand.
“I’m not the expert on this, but your pulse is still a little low. It’s probably just temporary, but you can happily stay here overnight – or till whenever you feel better.” He smiled kindly and when the boy failed to respond he added, “Or perhaps you live close by? I would gladly take you in our carriage if you prefer to go home.”
“I… I’m not from around here, I’m afraid. But thank you, that is very kind.”
“Oh, no trouble at all, Sir.” Robert didn’t seem surprised and as Isaiah remembered the symbols he still had on his face, he wondered if they thought he was a Zura or some vile tribal man.
“I know what you must be thinking – what feeble people these two must be, having carriages in these days of difficulties. But I assure you – we do not use it often and mostly only for out of town matters.”
“I wasn’t thinking that, actually. I’ve just never seen one before, and I thought all horses were banned from inside the walls.” Before Robert had the chance to reply, Alice walked in. She’d changed into a green dress that made her rather large bosoms stand up the way he’d heard capital women’s garments often did.
“Oh, how wonderful that you’re awake! Just in time for dinner.“
*
It was the first time Isaiah had sat by a long table that wasn’t packed with hungry captives. From what he’d seen thus far, the house was rather big, and the style very different from the fortress. He got the impression everything in it ought to be considered modern. Though there were no pretty rocks or jewels, their walls were generously decorated with paintings, and they had shelves with many odd objects that Alice had told him had little to do with their work and were rather “inherited junk Robert refuses to get rid of”. When he finally asked about what had happened a few hours prior, they explained they’d heard people shouting for help. Since they’d been on their way home, and since the infirmaries were either far away, full or best avoided, they’d offered to take him with them. Nobody on the street had objected on his behalf.
“So, young man. Would you perhaps tell us why you’re here? Alice and I rarely get visitors and less so travelers like yourself…” Isaiah felt more comfortable being called a young man, than Sir. Calling himself a traveler was a different topic entirely.
“I wouldn’t say traveler… I… I am a...”
“My first guess was a guardian – perhaps even a Zura born guardian?” Alice interrupted, looking more excited than frightened by her own suggestion. Once again, he’d forgotten about his face paint and felt himself blushing underneath it.
“I’m doubting it now – Zuras don’t talk like you. At least I wouldn’t imagine that they do – I’ve never really met one in person.” She confessed.
“Alice, let the boy speak.” Robert chuckled, and she rolled her large eyes at him.
“Actually, I just came here to look for my grandfather.” Isaiah said, feeling bad for disappointing them with his ordinariness.
“Oh, does he live in Nagár?”
“No, we’re Deltans. He… he went missing about ten days back…” Alice’s eyes widened at this.
“Oh dear, that is terrible.”
“I’m sure Alice could check the infirmary where she works – he’s probably fine, but you can never be too sure these days. Must be a rough journey for somebody his age – though I must admit I’ve never gone to the Heartland before.” Isaiah nodded, grateful for the help – not to say that he’d called Delta the Heartland.
“My dear, you have never gone anywhere before. Robert was born here, you see, and I’m from Bharoos myself.” Bharoos, Isaiah recalled, was the ghost town where he and Tzelem had gone. It seemed so long ago, but it really wasn’t. He considered telling her what he’d seen there but contained himself – not wanting to upset the jolly woman.
“Anyways, dear, I will be sure to check tomorrow morning. I hope you’ll find him shortly – it is not easy for newcomers nowadays. As you’ve probably noticed already, the population has increased tremendously over the past year.” Alice said, shaking her head so her curls danced around her round face. “No, Nagár is not what it once was…” she continued, and then took a sip of wine, which he himself had politely declined.
“My wife helps the plagued refugees from villages and other diseased areas. She sees the worst side of the city every day.” He gave her a warmer look than Isaiah had ever seen a man give a woman before, and her already rosy cheeks grew two shades redder.
“I thought the plagued ones weren’t allowed inside.”
“They’re not… not even the refugees who seem to be well are unless they’ve been granted prior permission. The infirmary I work in is just outside the walls.”
“It is a very admirable thing you are doing, my lady.” He couldn’t begin to imagine how the poor woman spent her days, and he wished he knew where she got the strength to smile. To be genuinely cheerful – even excited – with a stranger practically falling into their home.
“Please, just call me Alice…“ she said, suddenly modest and turning towards her husband.
“Robert, tell him about your work.”
“Well, I am now observing the new plague that has started spreading. This way we might finally find a cure that can put an end to them – before it spreads further north. Right now I am working from home since nobody believes in the possibility of fighting nature. Not even here in Nagár – supposably the center of knowledge.” He frowned.
“I didn’t know scientists fought nature, Sir Robert.”
“You are not alone in that regard, young man. But it is possible – we’ve both seen it.” He said more softly, looking towards his wife who nodded thoughtfully while circling her finger around the edge of her bronze cup.
“Now we just need to find out more so this city might be saved. No walls are high enough to keep out diseases like these. Though terrible to keep the refugees out, it is among the few things I agree with as far as the realm’s recent policies are concerned.”
“So that all of Araktéa can be saved, Robert.” Alice corrected him.
“Of course, but we must start somewhere, my dear. Everything needs to start somewhere… and our fight starts right here in this house.” He patted her hand, and they eyed each other as he took a long sip of his wine. Isaiah saw more than just love there, more than passion and desire and whatever else he’d seen in common lovers’ eyes. What it was, he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it made an unforced smile spread across his face.
“You look like you have a question.” Robert suggested, and Isaiah looked down at his plate, suddenly embarrassed.
“How do you fight something that is invisible?” He asked, yet to understand the way the plague attacked its victims. Some said it came as a shadow during the nighttime. Others claimed it was sorcery and everyone catching it had been rightfully cursed for engaging with the darkness. He’d heard other versions as well, but these seemed to be the most common ones.
“Ah, now that is a fairly good question. First of all, – it is not exactly invisible. That is just village lore. The plague is nothing more than what we in academia call a bacterium, and without sounding too smug, I was among the people developing the Analyzer – proofing that it is in fact not invisible or supernatural in any way. Still, you are of course right in that regard that it is hard to see with the naked eye – a very different matter altogether, and yet leaving us with a similar problem.” He cleansed his throat and put down his glass, resuming in natural formality. “To successfully fight anything, you have to know it first, and so before we can make a cure, we first need to figure out more about its behavior and tendencies…” he stopped himself. “Excuse me, I must be boring you with all of this… I don’t get out much these days.”
“Not at all, Sir, it is very important work you’re doing.” Isaiah was quick to say, fascinated that one of the few things even he had considered to be a mystical phenomenon, was actually nothing but a bacterium. Not everyone believed in bacteria, but he’d seen it himself. Every now and then, a plant in their garden would get infected, leaving it diseased and weak. If you didn’t cut it, his grandfather had explained, it would spread to other plants as well – much like the plague. “Why haven’t I thought about this before?” he wondered. Then he realized it was because he hadn’t cared. That it hadn’t concerned him compared to how many other things did.
“Indeed, and thank you - I am trying my very best. Hopefully there will be more results soon, it’s been a slow process these past…months.” he admitted, rolling his eyes ever so slightly, then wavering his hand as to leave the matter to rest.
“Now, enough about terrible things. Maybe if you told us more about your situation, we could be of better help. Deltans are not known to stray this far away from home. Would you have any clues as to your grandfather’s intentions with coming here?” Isaiah sighed, he did not want to bother them more than he already had, but knowing Robert was a chemist, the possibility of him knowing the whereabouts of another academic, were bigger than none. It was as he’d just said – he had to start somewhere, and even if their dinner table was not the ideal place, it was the only one currently accessible.
“I suspect he might have come here to seek his teacher from his days at the academy…”
“Goodness, your grandfather must have been among the students of the very first academy – among the last living scientists I reckon. How I’d love to meet him and hear about it. I’ve found very few records on the matter…” Isaiah smiled, not wanting to say anything regarding the current state of his mind. “As to his teacher, it must have been one of the original academics that taught at the Old Academy before it burned. I’m afraid all of them left after the revolution.” Isaiah's heart sank and Alice gave him an apologetic look as she placed some more of the buttery purée that he already felt he’d eaten too much of.
“I see…” he sighed, trying to look less defeated than he felt. “His name was Raziel Mongoya. You don’t happen to know if he’s still alive, if anyone around here knew him, or where I might…?” before he’d gotten through the sentence, Robert burst out laughing, almost spitting out his wine.
“Oh, that is the teacher you’re looking for?” Isaiah nodded, as the couple’s eyes met somewhere in between amusement and amazement.
“He is still alive, yes, and the only one of those ancient academics that were too stubborn to leave or die. He prefers Master Mongoya, but Sir Mongoya would do just fine.” Isaiah noticed the hatred in Alice’s face, a lot of it in fact, but he still felt relieved – it seemed he hadn’t come to Nagár for nothing.
“I just call him Uncle Raz.” Robert uttered, chugged down the rest of his wine, and shook his head in amused disbelief.