by Pedro Urvi
The Master Instructor sighed, which was unusual in him. “Our leader’s still alive, but only just.”
“Has he got worse?”
“He’s barely breathing. He’s in a very bad way.”
“I see,” Egil said, and bowed his head.
“We don’t know if he’ll make it till tomorrow.”
“Terrible news.”
“So it is. I hope you’ve brought us better.” He gave Egil a conspiratorial look, as though he knew why they had gone to Erenal. He could not really have known it, though he could guess, and indeed he had.
Egil nodded. “We have good news.”
Oden stopped, looked intensely at him and nodded, then went on. At the Command House on the island in the lake, two Rangers were guarding the door, and when they saw the Master Instructor they saluted respectfully and let them in. They found the main hall empty.
They went upstairs to Angus’ studio, and Egil glanced at the far end of the corridor in the direction of Dolbarar’s bedroom. The door was shut. Nilsa, Valeria and Gerd looked at one another. They hoped they were in time to save him, and that they would be allowed to do so.
Oden knocked on the door, and they waited for a moment until Angus called them in. Before the Master Instructor could announce the group, Angus, who had already seen them, spoke first. He rose from the chair behind his desk.
“Egil, you’re back!”
Egil saluted him respectfully. “We’re back, sir.” He leaned toward him slightly while Nilsa, Valeria and Gerd went to stand behind him.
“That’s wonderful!” Questions tumbled out of him. “What news have you got for me? Did you get the information? The cure?”
“We got hold of the information we went to look for in Erenal,” Egil confirmed.
“Then, you found the cure?”
“Yes, sir.”
Angus clenched his fists. “Wonderful! I was beginning to fear the worst. You’ve been a long time.”
“The journey was long and difficult, and getting the information in turn was quite complicated.”
Oden made to leave the room, but Angus gestured to him to stay. “I’d like you to be present,” he said.
“Very well, sir,” the Master Instructor said, and moved away to one side.
“Dolbarar is at death’s door, I’m afraid,” Angus said with an expression of deep distress. “You’ve come at the last possible moment. I hope you can save him. Tell me, what’s the cure? Is it a secret Erenalian potion? A forbidden tonic that’s only available to the Royal Family of Erenal?”
Egil sighed. “I’d better tell you what we’ve found out.”
“Go ahead, then. Tell me everything.”
Egil told him everything that had happened in Erenal, although he deliberately omitted the business involving the guild in Asofi. His friends realized this and exchanged glances, but said nothing. Egil showed Angus his notebook with its summary of what they had seen in the tome Achievements, Feats and Epic History of the Kings of Erenal, by Quinos Octavos. When he had finished, Angus took the notebook and read, several times, what Egil had copied from the tome of the Master Archivist of Historical Knowledge.
“You copied this directly from the tome?” he asked, looking very serious.
“Yes, I memorized it and wrote it down.”
Angus arched one eyebrow. “You couldn’t have misinterpreted anything?”
“I checked it with them,” Egil said, looking at his friends.
“Is what he says correct?” Angus asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Nilsa. “All three of us went over it to make absolutely sure.”
Angus was lost in thought for a while. He rubbed his chin with his hand.
“The information is correct,” Egil assured him. “It shows us clearly what we have to do.”
“It would do that if both cases were the same,” Angus pointed out. “Which is a lot to assume.”
Egil put all the sincerity he could into both his words and his expression. “They are the same, sir, I’m sure of that.”
“I don’t agree. To admit that both cases are the same would mean admitting that someone has been poisoning Dolbarar. That’s something I can’t even conceive of.” He shook his head firmly. “It would be impossible under my command and vigilance.”
“Nobody would dare poison Dolbarar here in the Camp,” Oden said. He had folded his arms and was shaking his head. “It’s sheer lunacy.”
“I understand it’s a terrible possibility to consider, but I think it’s the correct one, sir.”
“No, the correct one is that Dolbarar is suffering from Putrefaction of the Blood,” Angus said with an air of finality.
“In that case he’s lost,” Egil said coolly. “He’ll die.”
“Isn’t there some other way out?” Oden asked. “A cure?”
“No. There’s nothing of the sort,” Egil explained as if he was some cold-blooded court surgeon. “Either he’s being poisoned, as in King Leonidas’ case, or he has Putrefaction of the Blood. In the first situation he can be saved. In the second, he’s doomed.”
“I see what you’re trying to do, Egil,” Angus said, narrowing his eyes and staring at him intensely, as if he were trying to read his soul. “You’re trying to force me to accept the option that has a chance of saving Dolbarar over the one that hasn’t – and which is almost certainly the right one.”
“The fact that one is more likely than the other doesn’t make it the right one,” Egil corrected him. “It’s true that it’s less plausible that we should have a poisoner among us than that Dolbarar should be suffering from a rare disease, but that doesn’t make it true.”
Angus came out from behind his desk and started to pace the room with his hands at his back, considering Egil’s words and the problem they represented.
“We don’t have a poisoner among us!” Oden said forcibly. He simply could not believe it. “It’s a lie!”
“What do you think?” Angus asked the others. He stared at them, wondering what they would say.
Gerd cleared his throat loudly. “I believe Dolbarar’s being poisoned slowly, so as to make it look like this rare illness of the blood.”
Nilsa nodded. “I think the same.”
“I can understand that it’s difficult to accept,” Valeria said. “It is for me, too. But I think Egil’s right, even though it’s more difficult to accept that than the idea that he’s suffering from an illness.”
Angus gave a grunt and went back to pacing the room, thinking hard. You could almost see the black smoke which was on the point of issuing from his bald head. While he puzzled it out, Nilsa, Valeria, Gerd and Egil exchanged nervous glances. If Angus rejected their idea, Dolbarar was as good as dead.
Oden said nothing, but the expression on his face showed more than clearly that the idea of a poisoner was insane. More than that, it was unacceptable. That was the massive rock they had run aground on. Not only was it hard to believe, but it also left the Camp leaders in a very bad place. That was why they did not want to accept it, because it would then be their mistake – a truly massive one – and their responsibility. They would not want to accept this stain on their honor.
Egil sighed. He was beginning to doubt whether Angus would be capable of accepting his error and assuming responsibility, which was what would be implied by accepting that Dolbarar had been poisoned.
“This is a very important decision, and I think I need to hear other opinions before I take it.”
Egil tensed. He needed Angus to accept it.
“Sir, I can assure you he’s being poisoned,” he insisted.
Angus cut him short. “I know your opinion. It’s been made clear, yours as well as that of your comrades.”
“He’s being poisoned,” Egil insisted desperately.
Angus raised his hand. “I’ve heard enough.”
“What do you want me to do?” Oden asked him.
“Summon the Master Rangers to a Council. We’ll hold it immediately, downstairs.”
<
br /> Oden was about to leave when Angus added: “Call Healer Edwina as well. Tell her to attend the Council.”
Oden nodded and left.
“As for you four, you’ll attend too. All voices must be heard, and we’ll have to come to a decision.”
Chapter 47
The Council meeting took place at midmorning, in the common room on the ground floor of the Command House. Angus presided, looking very troubled. Seated at the great table beside him were the Four Master Rangers: Eyra and Esben on his left, silent while they waited to hear what it was all about, with Ivana and Haakon on his right watching everybody there and trying to guess what was happening. Opposite Angus, on the other side of the table, was Healer Edwina, who (although she did not have a seat in the Council) had been invited because of the subject to be discussed.
Nilsa was standing in front of the fireplace at the far end of the room, swaying from left to right and right to left, unable to stay still. Beside her were Valeria, Gerd and Egil, also restless, trying to hold up stoically, even if the situation was too critical to allow them to. They had left a respectful distance between themselves and the Council at the great table.
Angus, as the interim leader of the Camp, initiated the meeting. “Welcome, everybody, to this extraordinary Council,” he said, his arms outstretched.
“That is your prerogative as a leader, and we accept the summons to Council,” Eyra said, bowing her head slightly. The other Master Rangers followed her lead.
Haakon meanwhile was glaring at Egil and his friends. “Is it necessary to have witnesses in this council?” he asked bad-temperedly.
“On this occasion it is. They are not here as witnesses, but as guests. What they have to say is of great relevance.”
“Regarding what?” Ivana asked, staring at them with her ice-cold eyes.
“I understand that it must be something important, if there’s a council,” Esben said.
“It concerns our beloved leader Dolbarar,” said Angus.
Ivana and Haakon exchanged a glance, and it gave the impression that they had not expected this would be the matter under discussion.
“Is that why I’ve been summoned?” Edwina asked.
“That’s correct, Healer.”
“I’m afraid I have no good news for you today. Very much against my will, I have to tell you that Dolbarar’s state of health is terminal.”
Her words made everyone fall silent. It was as if a winter storm had suddenly fallen on the room, freezing everybody in both body and soul.
“How long does he have left?” Angus asked her.
Edwina looked at Eyra, allowing her to answer this.
“No more than a few days,” Eyra said with great sadness. She bowed her head as though she were ashamed that she was unable to do anything more to save him.
“This is very bad news,” Angus said, “even though it was expected. I wish it were otherwise.”
“It’s a terrible failure for all of us,” Ivana said in a voice which made it sound like an accusation.
“Everybody has done their best,” Angus assured her.
“But we’ve failed,” Haakon said in a grave whisper.
“There may still be a chance,” Angus announced, and the Four Master Rangers and Edwina stared at him in utter incredulity.
“What do you mean?” Eyra asked him in amazement. “We’ve exhausted all the alternatives. There’s nothing more we can do.”
“Our guests in the Council,” Angus said with a wave at Egil and his friends, “have just come back from Erenal with an unlikely theory which brings some hope, but which also poses grave implications. In addition, it leaves us with a difficult decision to make.”
Esben slammed his hand on the table immediately. “If there’s any hope, we need to consider it!”
“Of course,” Edwina said, “but all the same, I’m surprised. We’ve tried everything. Isn’t it likely to be a false hope?” From her expression, it did not look as if she believed the possibility even existed.
“I’d like to hear this theory,” Haakon said. He looked round the group suspiciously.
“I too would like to know what this theory is,” said Ivana. “If they’re here, it must be for a good reason.”
Angus made a sign to Egil. “If you please, Egil, tell them everything you’ve already told me.”
They all turned to Egil. Calmly, as if he had learned it by heart, he told them everything they had found out in the Grand Library of Bintantium. As he did so, the expressions on the faces of the Master Rangers and the Healer changed from interest to surprise, then finally to incredulity. When he had finished he was silent, and with him the whole Council. It was a long time before anybody said a word. They were all thinking about the implications of this, and of course the ramifications.
“Do you have proof of what you’ve just told us?” Haakon asked.
“Yes. Here it is,” Angus said. He put the notebook on the table, and the Four Master Rangers read Egil’s notes one by one, then handed it to Edwina so that she could do the same.
Haakon stared at Egil and the others. “This doesn’t prove anything. It’s a copy.”
“It’s a copy we made from the tome belonging to the Master Archivist of Historical Knowledge. It’s real. It’s what happened. The tome was in a secret chamber, very well-hidden on the third sub-level of the library.”
“Even so, that doesn’t prove it’s true,” Ivana said. “It could be fiction, an exaggeration.”
“Or simply that the King of Erenal didn’t want it to be known that he had the illness,” Haakon said, “and so he invented this fable about the poisoning.”
“To be poisoned shows more weakness than merely to contract an illness,” Esben reasoned.
“If the illness is produced by his own body,” Haakon said, “that leaves him looking bad. It makes him a King who is weak and sickly. Something he hid with this story of poisoning,”
“I agree that it looks as if he tried to hide his illness with the attempted murder,” Ivana said, “to avoid appearing vulnerable, and at the same time to seize the chance to decapitate his cousin, who was contending for the crown.”
“What Dolbarar suffers from is Putrefaction of the Blood,” Edwina said. “My Sister Healers of the Temple of Tirsar had already confirmed that.”
“I also concur that it’s Putrefaction of the Blood,” Eyra said. “We’ve always worked on that assumption.”
Angus nodded as he listened to the Camp’s two experts in Healing.
“It makes sense that it should be a cover-up,” said Ivana. “It’s the most logical explanation. Besides, what that tome says about the poisoning couldn’t happen here.” She gave Egil, Gerd, Valeria and Nilsa an icy glance for even thinking about it.
“Of course nothing like that could ever happen here,” Haakon said, as if the mere thought were outrageous. “Not while I’m here!”
“I find it hard to believe too,” said Esben, sounding deeply disappointed. The hope he had been seeking was evaporating.
Angus turned to them all. “So, everyone in the Council believes that these are two different cases, and that Dolbarar isn’t being poisoned, but is suffering from Putrefaction of the Blood?”
“They’re different cases, that’s for sure,” Haakon said. “I insist that nobody is being poisoned here. It’s impossible, and an outrage to our persons, even to think such a thing.”
“I think the same,” Ivana said. She folded her arms.
“It’s Putrefaction of the Blood,” Eyra agreed. “If it were poison, I’d have found it by now. I’ve been treating him ever since the first day, even before Edwina.”
The Healer nodded. “When Dolbarar finally called me, my diagnosis, after consulting with my order, was Putrefaction of the Blood. We kept it secret at his own request” – she exchanged a glance with Eyra – “but that has always been the cause of his condition.”
“The consensus of the Council seems to be unanimous,” said Angus.
�
�If you’ll permit me ...” Egil begged.
“Go ahead,” Esben said. “At the very least, you’ve earned the right to speak after your attempt to save Dolbarar.”
“Go ahead,” Angus added. “Say what you have to say.”
“I’m not going to try to dissuade the Master Rangers, or the Healer, from the idea that we have a case of Putrefaction of the Blood ...”
“You’d better not, because you’d get nowhere,” Haakon interrupted him. “Nobody believes there’s been foul play, no matter what that Erenalian tome may say.”
“What I’m going to ask for is that we try the approach which was followed with King Leonidas. That his treatment should be replicated.”
“What do you mean?” Esben asked in puzzlement.
“I request that Dolbarar’s treatment should stop, that he should be isolated, to establish that he’s not being given poison.”
“Absolutely not!” Haakon cried at once. He stood up, his eyes burning. “You’re suggesting treachery!”
“That’s a ridiculous idea! Nobody’s poisoning him!” Ivana exclaimed, sounding equally furious.
Egil stood up to the shouting impassively, as if nothing could affect him. He needed to prove that he was not mistaken, and this was the only way of doing it.
“I understand that what you’re proposing is to see if by stopping the treatment and keeping him away from everybody, he will improve. Is that correct?” Esben asked neutrally.
“That’s right. If he’s been poisoned, he’ll improve in a few days.”
“He won’t improve. He’ll die, because he’s receiving no treatment,” Haakon snapped back.
“We can’t stop treating him,” said Ivana. “That would be to condemn him.”
“Unfortunately, he’ll die in a few days, one way or the other,” Egil said, very softly and quietly, because he knew the reaction would be immediate and harsh.
Haakon turned to him and reached for his black knives. “How dare you! You’re an ungrateful wretch! Someone with no feelings whatsoever!”
“You’re a library mouse with neither morals nor honor!” Ivana said. She too reached for her weapons.