To Best the Boys(20)
I tug my shawl higher on my shoulders and head toward the voices just as my uncle’s fills the air. “Do they know yet?”
“It was announced this evening in the Port. We wanted to give the fishing boats time before the regulations go into effect next month.”
My steps slow.
“It had to be done to protect the future of the port and shoreline. The population’s grown too much to sustain the current intake.”
“That’s going to be rough on those who make their livelihood from it.” My uncle emits a low whistle.
I narrow my gaze. Fishing boats? The port? I stride the last few steps to the open doorway and peer in to find ten men, drinks in hand, speaking in official tones. “Well, you know,” one of them says, “there’s only so much we can do. It’s our responsibility to make hard choices for the benefit of everyone—not favor a few.” His eyes flicker up and land on me, and abruptly the room falls silent.
7
Excuse me,” I mutter. “I was asked to pay respects to my mum’s brother-in-law.”
I wait for Uncle Nicholae to say something as my heart beats so loud I’m certain everyone can hear it as they stare at me from beneath the wire cages containing stuffed exotic birds hung from the ceiling. My uncle bought and posed them years ago to look in midflight or midsong, but even for someone fascinated by the science of life and death, I have always found them morbid.
After what might be forever, Uncle Nicholae smiles and beckons me into the bright room. “Ah, Rhen, glad you could join us.” But his eyes don’t change expression as they flash down to assess my dress and presentation.
I lift my hand for him to take. “Thank you for having me, sir.”
“Of course, of course.” If he thinks less of my nearly dry hair or too-loose dress, he doesn’t show it. Just turns to the men with him. “Gentlemen, this is my niece, Miss Tellur. We’ve taken it upon ourselves to entertain her when we can. Rhen, these men are from the board of Stemwick University and Caldon’s esteemed parliament.”
Of the ten men standing there, one is Vincent’s father, and I suspect five may be with the university where my father used to be employed, because their faces seem to register recognition at my last name. Before they can comment, I quickly add, “Charming to meet you. Thank you for the work you do. I’m certain it’s quite valuable.” I’m not sure if I’m supposed to curtsy or not, so I end up giving a half dip, which comes off more as a stumble.
Their expressions turn pleased. “It’s quite rewarding,” says one, who I think Uncle Nicholae referred to as Millner. “We’re happy to work for the benefit of our constituents.”
“Tellur. As in the local alchemist?”
I freeze and my neck goes cold. I glance at Uncle Nicholae, but the board member continues without a hitch. “How is he? Is he still seeing patients and testing rat cellulitis?”
“He’s seeing patients, yes. And his recent work involves research on a cure for the crippling disease.”
“Ah, yes.” The elderly man turns to his counterparts. “The recently emerged crippling disease. It comes on slowly and attacks the nervous system, leaving the individual paralyzed until their heart and lungs seize up. It’s an interesting phenomenon—one that, alas, only seems to affect the poorer of Caldon’s communities.”
“Due to a lack of clean sanitation habits, no doubt,” one of the parliament men says, and Vincent’s father nods as if this is common. “Has the university begun studying it?”
“Only to ascertain that it’s a low-threat status.”
“But it’s a growing threat,” I say. “We’re seeing it more frequently, and its symptoms now present within weeks instead of months.”
“Yes, well, there are always idiosyncrasies. But compared to the long list of other concerns we see regularly, it’s rather minimal.” The university board member smiles gently at me, then turns back to the others.
My mouth falls open. How can they be so casual about it? “People are dying. My mum is dying from it.”
Vincent’s father looks over to offer a sad smile, but he stays quiet while the board member turns and says, “I’m very sorry to hear that, my dear. Our university is discussing an educational initiative to teach the port people better sanitation next spring. I hope that will give you some solace.”
I stare at him. Is he serious? I start forward. “You don’t understand—”
But Uncle Nicholae’s brow dips in sharp irritation. “Which is why we’ve taken on poor Rhen,” he says calmly. “To see her properly educated in higher society and clean living. Isn’t that right, dear?” He bestows me with the tight grin that’s really a hint that it’s time for me to run off and find Seleni.
My head and chest are exploding. I want to argue—to say the disease has little to do with sanitation, considering it’s at a cellular and nerve level. To say they don’t know enough about it because it’s too new, and if they truly had studied it, they’d at least know that while it may have originated in the Lower Port, it has the potential to spread. In fact, a recent house call Da made in the Upper district suggests it’s already begun.
I scowl. Maybe if we posed my mum in a cage like those stuffed birds, these men would pay better attention. Maybe they’d see her.