The Plague Diaries

by Ronlyn Domingue

  “Excuses,” she said, her tone angry. “I want to go. I can’t be alone with you. You can’t understand why yet, and I can’t explain. I simply know this. Please. We can give away the rest of the animals; we can come back to mind the garden; the cottage will be here for us.”

  “We need to give this more thought,” I said.

  “No, we don’t.” Her breath quivered until the cry broke free. “Don’t worry about what others might think! What do we want? What do we need? I’ve never had a father, and he’s the closest I will ever get.”

  Her admission struck me full in the heart. Nikolas looked at me as he went to her. The moment he put his arm around her slight shoulders, Harmyn clung to him. I swallowed the envy which rose up for Nikolas’s instinctive affection and Harmyn’s warm attachment, knowing I should be grateful for both.

  Whatever concerns I had regarding his invitation’s impropriety, I couldn’t defend them against Harmyn’s wishes or my veiled own.

  “Two weeks, then. That’ll give Nikolas time to prepare for our arrival and for us to do whatever we must here,” I said.

  She broke from him and hugged me. “He needs us, too,” she whispered.

  7 JUNE /38

  WE WERE ALMOST FINISHED WEEDING the garden when Harmyn said, “Something’s happened. We have to go to town.”

  No horse stood in wait near the cottage, so we hurried through the woods and across the green. I followed Harmyn to an intersection in a southwest ward. By that time in the morning, most people should have been at their desks and stations. Instead, people stood on the sidewalks with shocked expressions.

  Nearby, a news-speaker struggled to maintain his controlled tone and cadence. His well-trained avoidance of reaction faltered as he repeated the announcement.

  Due to the coming plague, Fewmany Incorporated and its subsidiaries will suspend operations in Rothwyke, effective the twenty-first of June until further notice. We regret the disruption this will cause and assure all Fewmany Incorporated employees that they will be retained again once the pestilence has run its course. We appreciate those we have served and anticipate your patronage in the future. May Ailliath stand strong through this scourge.

  Nearby, a young woman rubbed a slip of paper between her fingers. “Did you receive one, too?”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A furlough notice.”

  “No,” I said. I wondered if my father had known of the plans and, whether he did or not, if he’d received his own slip. It would serve him right, I thought, but he won’t suffer much for it. I couldn’t fathom why Fewmany had done this.

  “I didn’t know who owned our shop. None of us did, not even the manager, but we do now.” She started to cry.

  “There, now, don’t—” I stopped myself. She had every reason to be distraught. “I’m so sorry. This is a terrible shock.”

  “Terrible—yes. As if the coming plague wasn’t terrible enough.” She wiped her eyes with her apron. “What am I going to do? The slip says I’ll be paid my full wages until my last day, but what then? I’ve nothing but a few coins set aside!”

  Harmyn approached the young woman with a pink tulip. Strange, considering there was no flower vendor or pot nearby, and none bloomed so late in the year.

  The child held the petals up to the woman’s nose. She accepted the gift with a smile, but her tears flowed faster. “These remind me of my grandfather and his garden! It’s been so long since I’ve seen him.”

  “Maybe you will soon,” Harmyn said.

  “He would be glad, I know.” She looked at us. “You were kind to stand with me. I should go back inside now.”

  “Let’s go this way,” Harmyn said to me, pointing east.

  Everywhere, people talked of the announcement—on the streets, in taverns and teahouses, in doorways and open windows. Harmyn held my sleeve.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. She told me that the people’s shock was shifting to anger. “Practice now. Breathe. Pay attention to your steps. Let it out through your feet.”

  We went toward Old Wheel, now a memory rather than a place. When we reached the plaza, the gold-toned tiles cracked, I saw a line of men holding clubs under the portico at Fewmany Incorporated. They blocked the lobby entrance. I glanced up to the twelfth floor. I wondered if Fewmany stood at a window and watched the growing crowd outside.

  People gathered together, shouting:

  “Four months king, and look what’s become of us in his reign!”

  “A war close to our borders—”

  “And the plague—”

  “We need the wall completed more than ever!”

  “Halted that, didn’t he? Now thousands won’t have work! Coincidence?!”

  As Harmyn and I stood by, I felt more than heard a vibration steady as the drone of bees. Harmyn hummed to try to calm the crowd, but the effect reached only the people near us.

  “I need to talk to Nikolas, but you don’t look well,” I said.

  “My chest hurts. There’s too much poison coming in and I can’t release it fast enough. The shadows are feeding on it, getting stronger,” she said.

  “We should go home, then,” I said.

  “I have to learn how to endure this. Will you hold my hand? It helps me stay in one place,” she said. When I touched her palm, she gripped tight.

  A sleek black cat with a torn ear leapt in front of us. Her yowl urged us to follow her along a safer route on the broken streets.

  When we reached the castle’s outer wall, the guards checked a list, on which our names appeared, and one escorted us toward the gatehouse. At last, Harmyn released my hand, staring up at the towers, then at the columns in the Great Hall. Within minutes, an officer showed us to the corridor which led to Nikolas’s office. Hugh stood guard. With Hugh’s approval, she left to look around while I talked to Nikolas.

  I knocked, Nikolas told me to enter, and I stood opposite his desk.

  “I haven’t much time. What is it?” he asked. He hadn’t looked so distraught in weeks, not since those first days after his parents died.

  “I know what’s happened,” I said.

  He thumbed through papers on the desk. “Well, news traveled fast, didn’t it? I just had a meeting with the ward leaders. They pleaded with the Council and me to intervene. I—we—made no promises, false or otherwise, and I vowed to do what’s in my power, but in this situation, there’s a limit. My advisers have pressed me to negotiate with him.”

  “How?”

  “Rescind the order to stop work on the wall. Offer a contract for more fortifications in the kingdom. Offer him something—anything. The thing is, I know the advisers aren’t concerned only for the citizens. They have their own interests in mind. They have their own lands and enterprises at risk. They all deal with Fewmany in some way. We have to come to some arrangement. So—I’ve had a summons sent for him to appear this afternoon.”

  “What if he refuses?” I asked.

  “Even he wouldn’t dare ignore a summons,” Nikolas said.

  I approached his desk. “He’ll honor it more for the sport than out of respect.”

  “He’ll counter, and I anticipate I’ll have to agree to a compromise I’ll question for the rest of my life. You know how the very idea repulses me, but I can’t indulge my personal ire at the people’s expense.”

  “No. I am quite literal. What if he refuses? No agreement, no compromise, no poisoned bargain?”

  “He can’t.” Nikolas’s expression went blank. “He won’t.”

  “He can, and he almost certainly will.”

  “It’s going to be an arduous negotiation, but if we can work out some plan . . .”

  I shook my head.

  “But he can’t. Surely he must know how many people are affected. How many people are dependent on their positions,” Nikolas said.

  “Of course he does.”

  “Doesn’t he have concern for them?”

  “Only if he gets what he wants,” I said. This I knew, without
a doubt.

  Nikolas clenched his hands behind his neck. “They warned me not to halt construction. What was the worst that could happen? I thought. A protracted contract dispute, which we’d win—terms haven’t been met, costs far higher. What he’s done now makes no sense at all.”

  “However, you don’t know for a fact that stopping the wall had anything to do with this. He might have been planning it for weeks,” I said.

  “You have no idea what responsibility I bear.”

  “Not for Fewmany’s actions,” I said.

  “No, but that makes my burden heavier now, doesn’t it?” Nikolas paced between his desk and the window. “What I don’t understand is how he benefits. Soon enough, the people with no wages won’t be able to buy anything, and the conglomerate owns half the businesses where they buy, not to mention hundreds of buildings where they rent.”

  The answer came with clarity. “He has a greater prize to claim. The hoard is the means to an end. He’s willing to risk everything he’s created for it, because when he returns, he can use the treasure to resurrect what was his. Then, he can salvage everything that faltered during the plague. Buy it all.”

  “You said he won’t get through,” Nikolas said.

  “He won’t.”

  “What if he did? What if you’ve made a mistake giving him the map and enough hints to lead him that close?”

  “The odds are extremely slight. He doesn’t know he must follow bees, and he’ll be reluctant to do so. He doesn’t like them.”

  Our eyes locked. We realized the error at the same moment.

  “How well do you know his mind, Secret? Do you think he’ll give up after the first hollow leads nowhere, the tenth, the twentieth? You know the nature of bees, so tell me, what are the chances of finding another hive like the one we saw? I remember what Aoife wrote—what Leit told her—some people cross into the realm by accident. What happens when someone knows what he’s looking for?”

  “He won’t cross,” I said, almost shouting to hide the edge of my worry.

  “What made you think you could be so duplicitous? Why did you even try?”

  “What choice did I have?” I asked.

  “ ‘I didn’t find the hoard, Fewmany.’ ‘No, I won’t go on a journey to look.’ ‘No, I won’t work in your library.’ What was it between you? What power did he have over you, or still does? You told me you’re supposed to stop him. Trust me, you said. What are you going to do now? No response? Well, then, we’ll have his greed and your complicity to thank for leading us to ruin.”

  My face stung as if he’d slapped me. “Is that what you think?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “What of your hubris?” I asked. “Don’t you think your people would prefer that wall be built late than not at all? The crowd I saw today—they believe you provoked Fewmany and this is his retaliation. Who will they blame in the end?”

  “Late or never, we’re doomed. Regardless”—he paused, his eyes savage—“I’m not the one who poured the vials.”

  “You agreed,” I said.

  “And you did it. How does it feel to bear that burden?”

  “Only in conscience. You’ll bear the judgment of history. What will the chroniclers say about you?”

  “Stop,” a voice said. We turned toward the doorway. Harmyn’s head shook with disappointment. “I could hear you shouting from the hall.”

  “Go back outside,” Nikolas said. “This is between us.”

  “Watch your tone. This is between us. Leave her alone!”

  “Don’t shout at me!” Nikolas said.

  “Stop! I feel sick from the feelings in this room. Whatever you said—I couldn’t hear and I won’t glimpse—you can’t take it back. Beyond hurtful. Cruel. The damage is done. You turned on each other.” Harmyn spoke the truth with sadness, no attempt to shame.

  Nikolas met my eyes. He shoved a bound journal under his arm. “I have a meeting to attend. See yourselves out.”

  DIARY ENTRY 12 JUNE /38

  Fewmany is missing.

  In a note from Nikolas, I learned FM failed to heed the summons and no one could account for his whereabouts, not his secretary, not his top men, not even the servant who answered the door at his manor. Nikolas wondered if he’d already left for his “journey.” I replied I didn’t know and I’d talk to my father.

  Father said no one had seen FM since the morning of the 7th. When FM left and didn’t return, no one thought much of it because everyone knew he was leaving for a trip soon. Officially, to Thrigin and Prev, business and pleasure, but only Father knew the truth. When I asked, he admitted he knew about the furloughs. He said most of the top men tried to convince FM otherwise, not only because the accounting didn’t bear it out. For so many to be out of work at once would be terribly disruptive. All FM had to say to that was, None should be paid for work they can’t do. Fewmany Incorporated isn’t a charity. So, outside of Rothwyke, business will continue as usual, but if/when the plague spreads, they are to furlough everyone in those places, too. His top men will stay in charge and do as he said until he returns. Father asked how long that might be. Months, I said, not entirely a lie.

  But something didn’t feel quite right, something I couldn’t explain. After the argument with Nikolas, I wondered if I’d been wrong all these weeks. Perhaps I’ve done what I was meant to do, and the journey is his to take. Nevertheless, I went to the manor myself. No answer when I rang the bell. I walked around the west side to find everything gone—horses, carriages, saddles, and bridles. I remembered then about the key Naughton said was hidden under the boot scraper. It opened a west wing door and led to stairway to the basement—kitchen, pantry, servants’ quarters. Everything was in order. Pots hung clean, plates stacked, glasses in neat rows, silver in drawers, beds made, but not a single garment on a hook, comb on a wash stand, pair of boots under a chair.

  When I reached the first floor, I noticed a burnt smell. In the hall—no table, no rug, no statues. I checked each door, none locked, not one of them—each chamber, empty. The east wing’s hidden door was unlocked, but I didn’t open it or enter the corridor.

  I went upstairs—the burnt smell stronger—and tried the door opposite the library. Spotless. The other rooms, the chamber of wolves. Empty. I ran across to the library and found nothing inside—no table, no supply cabinet, no books—and proof of a fire. Hearth charred, mantel scorched, bookcases up to the east gallery black, ruined books disposed of. No books or manuscripts or maps anywhere. This stunned me most of all.

  Then I went outside, across the green, and that’s when I saw the wheel tracks leading toward the trees. The gate was wide open. I walked into the grove and asked what had happened. The trees showed me carts loaded with boxes, headed north, night and day. When the animals came forward, I asked if they’d seen him, Naughton, Mutt, anyone. No one but the drivers taking his possessions away.

  Why did he do this? Where is he?

  17 JUNE /38

  TWO DAYS BEFORE WE LEFT the cottage, Harmyn and I washed linens, tidied the space, and started to pack our belongings. At the castle, our rooms were waiting. Earlier in the week, Nikolas introduced us to everyone—servants, staff, officers, advisers. Nikolas showed us to our wing and let us select what we needed from storage. Harmyn had a good time at this, choosing what went into a room of her own. By letter, I told Father of our pending move. In his reply, he didn’t question me and invited us to live with him, if circumstances changed. He mentioned there was still no word from Fewmany. Father didn’t know I’d been to the manor and found everyone and everything gone. Although I hoped Fewmany was beyond Ailliath’s borders by now, I’d been vexed by the persistent feeling that wasn’t so.

  On that second to last night, I sent Harmyn out to gather blueberries for dinner. As she did, I went to fetch water. All seemed as it should be, the insects’ whir, the last of the birds on their way to roost, the burble of the stream. A fox glanced at me as she dipped her head to drink. This tranquility I’ll miss when
I return to town, I thought.

  I walked back to the cottage and set down the bucket on the table.

  A sitting shadow shifted on the bed.

  Trembling, I lurched back.

  “So close she was,” the dark shape said.

  Fewmany.

  Shaking, I lit the three candles. In the light, I saw he was dressed in a shirt and jerkin, the strap of a quiver across his chest. His hair was untamed. Short metallic whiskers bearded his face.

  “What animal led you here?” he asked.

  “A squirrel,” I said.

  “Where is the old woman?”

  “Away.”

  “There are bags by the door. Are you leaving as well?”

  “How did you find me?” I asked. My thoughts spiraled. Where was Harmyn? Had he done something to her? Why hadn’t the animals warned me of his presence?

  “ ’Twas obvious once I pondered pieces in a new light,” he said.

  “You’ve been hunting for me.”

  “Such a strong word, my keeper of tales. Searched, tracked.” He stood with effort, clutching his bow in his left hand, touching his belt with his right, the hilt of the bone-handled knife visible above its sheath. Both of his hands were gloved.

  I forced my breath to slow and deepen. “I went to the manor to look for you. What happened to the library?”

  “Lamp, paper, fire. A mishap. Drowned my sorrows, I did, for what was lost, but do not fret. I shall honor my agreement although the reward is diminished.”

  Had he meant to put me at ease with those words, despite his armed menace?

  “Your collections. Why are they gone?” I asked.

  “The plague will unleash an unprecedented level of rabble. My Mutt endured a terrible three weeks, yet he is a simple beast with no need for coin or barter. I couldn’t risk vandals and looters with my treasures. There are places great men, too, hide their private hoards.” His smile was wry, almost teasing.

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  “I want you to come with me.”

  “You have the map.”

  “There is one prize to which it will not lead, or so you claim.”