by Mike Maddox
The old lady answered the door in her apron, flour up to her elbows.
"Leah! Oh my dear, it's so good to see you! They've lifted the cordon then, have they?"
Leah smiled sheepishly. "Afraid not, Gran. But I was worried sick about you, and wasn't going to let some boys with guns stop me."
"Stop you?" Her grandmother looked taken aback. "Leah, you could have been killed!" She hugged Leah, and then pulled back sharply. "You're not carrying the contagion are you?"
Leah blushed. "I was passed fit by the hospital last night. I took a diagnostic stick with me on the way out, and stuck it in before I knocked. Look." She held up her wrist. A small purple light blinked back at her. "See? Clear as a bell." She hung back. "Of course, if you'd prefer I went -"
Leah's grandma smiled. "If you're dying, then we'd better put the kettle on first and have a slice of cake. Besides, no one has come right out and said how the illness is transmitted, anyway. The news channels have been vague, to say the least."
"Thanks Granny. You haven't got a man in the house or anything, have you?"
"Why, love? You desperate?"
Leah pulled a face at the thought of sudden desperate sex with the kind of polite, wrinkly and distinctly elderly gentleman her grandmother associated with. "Euuw! No. Er... I mean 'Euuw, no thanks I've just had one?'"
Leah went straight to the bookshelf and started pulling books out; her father's old books, stored here since he died. "I've been trying to call you for days. The comms are down all over the village. I expect it's the same everywhere."
"No, we're fine. It's just you, apparently, and the area around the Castle. We still get everything fine. News reports, weather, all the usual bulletins. In fact, everything outside the village is the same as it ever was." She flicked a finger at the wall, stopping a light entertainment music show she had been enjoying.
"You mean apart from the sickness, of course?"
"There is no sickness out here. It's only been reported as being in the village and a few other isolated places."
"Really?" said Leah suddenly puzzled. "How odd. I wonder why they think we need to be cut off from the rest of the world in that case?"
"You mean apart from the fact that you might be carrying some kind of end-of-civilisation-as-we-know-it plague thingy?"
Leah sat on the chair by the bookshelf, her hands flicking through pages. "I know we've all been calling it 'The Contagion', but I'm not sure it is. Contagious, I mean. I don't know how you get it, but I don't think it's person to person contact, somehow. And besides, you don't get diseases through comms lines."
"Not usually, no. What is it you're looking for, anyway?"
Leah carried on reading, not looking up. "Came to see you, Gran. I was worried."
"I'm the one that should be worried. So, what is it you're looking for?"
Leah smiled, holding up a thick volume; pages thin as tissue paper. "This. Dad's book on rare beasts. He was always going on about them. I'd look it up electronically, but the system's been down for days now. Whatever it is that they want to contain, they're doing their best to stop us finding out too much about it. Can't imagine why."
Leah continued flicking through the book until she came to the entry on Worms. There were many types, some large, some small, some ridiculously so.
"What's that you've found?" said Gran, bringing her a hot drink. "Worms? Filthy creatures. You came all this way, risking life and limb, to look at a book on worms?"
"I came all this way risking, as you say, life and limb, to make sure you were well. But yes, to read this book. The village library doesn't have this volume. I know, because I checked. Look -" she held the book open at a page. It showed an ugly looking creature with a revolting carapace, not unlike the beast she had seen in her vision of the well. "This one here? I saw something like it the other night, I'm sure of it."
Taking the book from her Leah's grandma slid some spectacles down over her nose. "Soft Worm. This what you think you saw? A Soft Worm?"
"Yes. Well, no I'm not entirely certain, but it's a close enough match. The eyes weren't quite the same, the head different in coloration. But yes, I'd say that was what I'd seen."
"Soft Worm. Vegetarian, that's good. Not venomous. Likes the dark, usually timid except when young are threatened. Secretes many chemicals prized for their medicinal purposes, of particular value to the wizarding community, although use is limited to those of extreme high standing." Their eyes met. "Do you think this thing belongs to the Mage? It might have escaped."
Leah studied the picture again. "It's possible, I suppose. In which case I imagine he'd be very keen to get it back again. Even so, it still doesn't look quite the same as the one here. You don't suppose it's some new species do you?"
"Unlikely. More likely it's a mutant, some wretched product of gene splicing perhaps. Either way, I don't think it will do anyone any good having it wandering around the village."
Leah carried on reading. The Soft Worm was reckoned to be prized by herbalists. Among its many qualities were the secretions given off by glands located in the mouth. They were renowned for their healing properties by the wizards of Southern Praal.
If this thing was a Soft Worm, Leah thought, then her grandma could be right. It might have escaped from the Castle, and Leah might be richly rewarded for bringing it back. Who knows what really went on in the domain of the Mage, after all.
"I should go." Leah said. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"
"I'll be fine, my love. Whatever it is that's making you people ill, it doesn't seem to like the other side of the river." She put some cakes into Leah's bag. "So who are you going to tell about this thing then?"
"There's a captain of the militia they've put in the Garden with us. Bloody man's a nuisance, but I suppose I'll have to report it to him, see if his men can't catch it."
Leah's grandmother gathered her up in a tight hug.
"Leah, be careful how you phrase it. If this creature does belong to the Mage then he could be very grateful. Very grateful indeed. You need to make sure that some of that gratitude goes your way. Do you follow me?"
Leah smiled. She knew exactly what Gran meant. This was her chance to shine, her chance to prove that she had so much more to offer than being a mere Gardener. Although she was acting Head Gardener, as soon as the current crisis resolved itself the Castle would formally appoint a new head. One with the right qualifications and formal magical training, no doubt. But if she could make something of herself here, then she could be legitimately running the Gardens for real, like her father before her.
"May I take this book with me, please?"
"You may. Just don't tell anyone where you got it from, there's a good girl, eh?"
Making her way back to her house, Leah changed clothes before going to the hospital to check on her mother.
Glora was sitting by the bedside as she arrived. She was holding Saran's hand through the thin plastic sheeting that formed her isolation cube, oxygen gently hissing through the filtered pumps below her bed. She was reading a book with her free hand, but looked up at Leah and smiled gently as she entered the room. Leah took Saran's hand from her and slid into the chair by the bed, now warm from where Glora had been sitting.
"How is she?"
"Why don't you ask her yourself? She's looking much better." Glora smiled at her friend, lying so pale and still in the bed.
She looked worse, of course, but Leah appreciated the comment anyway. She picked up her mother's hand and sat there, listening to the sound of her breathing.
Glora gave Leah a kiss on the forehead and was gone.
Her mother would pull through this. It was bad enough to have lost her father when she was little. To lose her mother now was... well, it wouldn't be right.
She looked at Saran. She took after her mother in her looks, as much as she matched her father in temperament. Everyone has to say goodbye to their parents at some point, Leah reasoned. It was the way of things.
But not like this, not
now. Saran was so full of life, so kind and funny, and gentle, and she shouldn't have to go like this. Taken by some wretched disease.
There was always a cure. That was what the Garden was for.
She touched her wrist, opening a line to the Garden. The central computer fed her updates of the work that had taken place today. The watering, pruning, the spores harvested. No disasters, no calamities. Things were going as smoothly as ever.
The Mage. He would find an answer; all he needed were the right materials.
The Mage would save them. The Mage would save Saran.
Leah made her way to the Inn. With the town under martial law, opening times were severely limited, and so enthusiastic drinkers like Gim and Rendolph had to double their efforts to make sure they kept their good name with each other, and bad reputation with the rest of the townsfolk.
Across the market square she saw Krillan's men. They had stopped a family on a cart and were searching it. She saw Sergeant Wallas look at her guiltily. The blockade around the town was tight as could be, but all the same, the military still insisted on these spot checks now and then. It was supposed to reassure people, let them know that someone had taken a firm hand and things were under control. In actuality, they served no purpose at all. The sickness wasn't going to be hiding in a cartload of milk churns. And besides, it wasn't as if they had been able to leave the village and surrounding areas, anyway.
This was just Krillan playing at soldiers. Being seen to be in control, letting the people know who was in charge around here. It was pointless. One of the soldiers accidentally knocked a milk churn from the back of the wagon, and it fell clattering to the cobbles. The milk poured out and along the gulley that ran down the middle of the street. The farmer looked furious, but said nothing. Leah stood, wondering how the soldiers would react, but they merely looked ashamed as they picked the churn up and put it back on the wagon. Sergeant Wallas wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to the man.
"Here. Take this to the Estate Office in the morning, and you'll be fully reimbursed. Sorry about that."
The man took it from him, his face like thunder. "Just doing your job," he said stiffly.
"I don't know what we're doing," said Wallas, catching Leah's eye across the road. "I don't know anything that's going on these days. I think the whole world's going mad."
There was a sudden brightness around them, and everyone looked up. The sky was ablaze, like another sun had briefly risen, and set again.
"What was that?" said the farmer.
"Don't know," said Wallas, touching his wrist-port, hoping for information. But none came. "Who knows what's happening now?"
"That looked like an explosion." Leah called. "It did, didn't it? A very large explosion, but a long way off."
"Nothing we're aware off," said Wallas. He turned to the farmer. "On your way now. And again, my sincere apologies for the accident. If you have any trouble tell them to talk to me and I'll sort it out at once." He turned to Leah. "You too, Miss."
"The curfew's not called just yet, Sergeant."
"No, Miss. But it's not safe being on the streets these days." He looked at his own men, crossly. "Can't tell what might happen."
"Sergeant, that was an explosion. You know it was."
"I didn't hear anything, Miss."
"Magical weaponry doesn't need to make a sound. Are we are at war, Sergeant?"
"Miss, if I knew, I'd say you would too. Not an easy thing to keep quiet, a war."
"No. No, I suppose not."
"Who knows what it means. So many weird things happening, why should one more be any the odder?"
With a backward glance at the sky, Leah made her way to the inn. Her two friends waved to her as she entered, ducking her head below the low wooden beams.
"Leah! You're just in time. More cider, barman!"
"No. Thank you, but no."
"More mead, barman, one for the lady."
"No, really, I'm fine."
"Really really?"
She smiled. "Oh, alright. But make it a large one."
"There we go. Hey, how's your mum? Any news?"
Leah took a huge swig of the sweet honeyed drink and sat down on the worn varnished bench next to them.
"They say she's stabilised. Which means she's dying, but it won't be tonight. They don't know what it is, do they? They haven't got a clue what they're doing. There are people falling down ill all over the place and they haven't the first inkling of what's wrong."
Rendolph banged his glass down on the table.
"Well the Mage must be doing something. I mean, it's not like he runs the whole country or anything, not your actual day to day running, but he must know what's going on, right? And here we are right on his doorstep. We're not some little village out in the middle of nowhere, are we?"
"It's a bit like that," said Gim. "Only worse. We're right next to the Castle and yet they ignore us."
"The Mage will think of something," said Leah. "It's what he does. He thinks of things. Holds back our enemies, cares for us, sustains us all with his power."
The boys looked at each other, worried.
"I know you're under stress, love, but you haven't suddenly got religion have you?"
"No."
"Can happen."
"He's a Mage. He's not a god."
Gim knocked back his drink in one. "No. Be better if he was. We could pray to him at least. Other countries, their Mages appear in public you know."
"Bollocks they do." Rendolph said.
"They do. Some countries the Mage speaks about things, not like ours, stuck up there in that Castle of his. I mean, don't get me wrong; I like what he does. If it weren't for him then we'd have all sorts making their way here. We'd have war again. And whatever happens I don't want a war. Poncing round like your man Krillan, shining his boots so he can see up ladies' skirts."
"Good idea, though."
"Bloody good idea."
"I need your help, boys," Leah said. "I think there's something in the well. A creature."
"Of course there is," said Gim. "It's a magical wishing well, isn't it?"
"That's right," said Rendolph. "Leah looked in it and wished she could find the best-looking lads in the world. Good looking, sophisticated, witty." Rendolph belched. "Well mannered, and with bollocks the size of jibber fruit."
Leah sighed. "That's as may be, but would you stop talking with them for one minute and let me finish?"
Gim and Rendolph exchanged mock hurt looks. "Oooh."
"Stop it. Will you help me?"
"Well, of course we will. We always do. But tell me, why we should. Just to put my mind at ease."
Leah smiled, her hands folded on her lap. "Three reasons. Firstly, if I'm right, then it might earn us the gratitude of the Mage. He might be able to help my mother."
"We've already said we'll do it," said Gim.
"Secondly, it might make us rich."
"I already liked it," said Rendolph. "Like it more now."
"How will it make us rich?" Gim said.
"If we find the creature, and the Mage feels generous, he might reward us. You could get a promotion out of it."
"Fair enough," said Rendolph. "You said three things, though."
Leah knocked half of her drink back, burped, and said "And thirdly, if you do help us I'll get drunk and get my tits out before last orders tonight."
Gim and Rendolph slapped hands in the air in mock delight. "Right, that's your lot!" shouted the barman. "Time to go."
"Oh dear," said Leah, smiling at the boys. "Still, two out of three's not bad is it?"
"Which two?" said Gim.
"My lady lumps are staying where they are, thank you very much. You'll have to settle for fame, fortune and the eternal gratitude of the government."
"So what is it you want us to do?" said Rendolph.
As the three friends left the inn, Leah told them her plan. And as she did so, the colour slowly drained from their drink-flushed cheeks.
"You in then?" asked Leah.
"I'm in," said Gim. "Anything for a laugh."
"Actually.... Actually, no." said Rendolph. "Sorry. But I don't think I can."
"Oh, come on," said Gim. "You've got to."
"No he doesn't," said Leah. "Not if he doesn't want to. Besides, it makes more sense to leave someone up top in case anything goes wrong."
"Hold on! What's with this 'In case things go wrong' business?" spluttered Gim.
Leah smiled. "It will make us rich. We split it three ways. Gim and I go down the well, Rendolph waits up top."
"That's very generous of you," said Gim.
"It's very generous of you too," said Rendolph. "It's a three-way split."
"I know," said Gim. "It's still generous, though."
CHAPTER FIVE
Night in the village came, as always, with the last rays of the sun catching the towers of the Castle, which reflected them back and then held them with a soft turquoise luminescence. As the last rays fell behind the hill, the shadows lengthened and spread over the timber framed houses, along the cobbled streets and over the rooftops. The thatch of the cottages turned a deep russet, sparkling with the silver from the sat dishes and aerials poking up from the smoking chimney pots. The air hung heavy with the scent of burning peat and turf, as rich as whiskey.
Here and there lights began to twinkle as streetlamps were illuminated or people lit lanterns. At times of festival, or in summer, the night could be as vibrant as day in the town, with folks wandering from tavern to tavern, mingling with the hustle and bustle of traders selling snacks and beverages that you'd never want in daylight, or when sober.
Tonight the town was nearly silent. The only sound was of the occasional patrol of a militia guard, or of children being called indoors.