After a long while—I could not have guessed how long—his chest stilled. It was my first time seeing death close at hand, human death, and I could tell at once when the life left him.
There was no way of seeing it, exactly, but the body on the flagstones transformed from aheto anitin an indefinable but unmistakable way. Jol was dead.
Basil knelt and felt his pulse at arm’s length, keeping a fastidious distance. “He’s gone,” he confirmed with a quick nod. The woman who had been dampening Jol’s forehead held the wet cloth still, without putting it back in the bucket, and there was a steadydrip, drip, dripof dirty water onto the floor.
“Best get cleaned up,” said Basil, and the watching Snagged came to life as if they had performed this dance many times before.
“What will you do with him?” I asked, staring down at Jol’s body. The mold was still bubbling a little.
“Burn him,” said Basil, matter-of-factly.
I must have looked shocked, because he added, “We can’t be sure that the corruption won’t spread. I doubt it, because so far it seems to be confined to those who were harvested. But we cannot take the chance.”
“And if someone else saw this,” added another man, who was helping to wrap Jol’s body in a piece of sacking, “they would ask questions. Talk to a doctor, maybe.”
“But wouldn’t that be a good thing?” I said, exasperated. “Youshouldtalk to a doctor. Hells, they might be able to help you. You don’t know unless you ask!”
“She doesn’t know,” Basil told the other man.
“I don’t knowwhat?” I snapped.
“Doctors might be able to help,” said the other man. “Unlikely, but there’s an outside chance. Mayhap they have some potion or some such.”
“Exactly. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I said.
“Or mayhap not. Then maybe they go to one of the magic-workers, ask for a magical remedy for some strange ailment that rots you like an apple. Then the magic-workers come looking for us.”
“They already know you’re here, though,” I said. “Don’t they?”
The man avoided my gaze. He wrapped Jol’s body with care, paying particular attention to the head and feet, tucking the dead man’s arms into the sacking as if tucking a child into bed. Soon the body was an innocuous bundle, like a parcel you might take home from market.
I appealed to Basil. “What difference would it make? At least there would be a chance of finding a cure. Or at least stopping us from dying likethis.”
“We stay outside of the Magic-Workers’ notice,” said Basil.
“But they know you’re here! You followed them here, you said. Jol said he slept on one of the sorceresses’ front doorsteps for weeks!”
“They do not know where we are now, nor that we gather together to talk and share information,” said Basil. “Why do you think we meet here secretly?”
“You mean you’rehidingfrom them?”
“Yes, in a way,” replied Basil. “For our own protection. Oh, they let us stay for a bit, sometimes, while it amuses them, or serves them, I suppose, or if we slip their minds for a time. But eventually, if we do not hide from them, they come back for us. To use up what’s left. We think it’s easier for them to use up a heart they’ve already snagged. Takes less effort. And when they come back for one of us ... We are powerless to resist. Because it’s what we want, deep down.”
He looked at Jol’s wrapped body as it was carried out of the door. “The corruption is spreading faster and faster now. It was slow, at first, developing over weeks and months, but now it is more like days. We need to find out everything we can, as quickly as possible. Before this happens to more of us. Poor Jol. If he could have hung on, just until we found the hearts, and took them to our contact for repair ... He had so much hope.”
“You still think you’ll be able to heal yourselves? The rest of you?”
“If we all find hearts with which to replace our own, I have every faith,” he said. He wiped his hands briskly on his waistcoat.
“What is the name of the person who will repair—or replace—the hearts?” I asked.
“I’m keeping that quiet for now,” said Basil, tapping the side of his nose. I wanted to hit him. I decided to keep the little heart to myself for the time being. I didn’t want to stay there any longer, with the stink of corruption in the air.
I had cut it fine. The heartsickness hadn’t quite descended yet, but I could still feel it waiting, subtle but dense, like a nagging headache that never quite surfaces, lurking behind your eyeballs and burdening your thoughts.
Outside the tavern, I hailed another cart and perched tensely on the seat, jiggling and fidgeting and willing the driver to go faster, checking my pocket watch obsessively.
I wondered about Dav, back home. According to Basil and the rest, his days were numbered. How much of his heart was left? Was he, too, covered in that creeping mold? I wish I had talked to him more, back in the village. I wish I had found out all I could, while I could.
