Saryth woke slowly, feeling deliciously comfortable. The bed was warm and soft. The room was filled with sunlight, and next to him Kite drowsed on a chair, her head forwards, her blonde hair catching the light. Patterned blankets decorated his bed, reminding him of Uamut, but the place was far too light and warm for that. He yawned, and Kite stirred, blinked and looked down at him.

“Oh good,” she said, rubbing her eyes, “you’re awake.” She put a hand to his forehead. “And your fever’s gone. Feeling better?” She stood up and walked over to the far end of the room, where a plate and jug stood on an old table covered with a brightly embroidered tablecloth.

“What happened?” Saryth asked, pushing himself to an upright position. “Where is this?” He looked around at the room, which was small, spare and clean, with white walls and a worn wooden floor. There was another bed on the other side of the room, and the bright hair spread out over the pillow told him Aeryn was sleeping there. Aeryn, the avatar that they’d tracked from Ath Shera. He frowned, but he couldn’t connect this room, this place, with Ath Shera. The window showed him small clusters of wooden houses separated by unpaved roads, not the soaring towers and balconies of the city on the edge of the desert.

“Here, eat this.” Kite turned back to him, holding out a plate with bread and cheese on it. “You need the energy. You collapsed after we came through the gateway.” She sat down again as he took the plate. “You’ve been asleep three days.”

“Three days?” What had he done?

“It can be draining. And it was your first time.” Oh yes, I made a gateway. Helped Kite make a gateway.

“And Aeryn?”

“He also has a fever. He should be recovering, though. It’s a bit worrying, really. There’s a virus going round the town at the moment.”

“... virus?” It was an unfamiliar word.

“A sickness. The spring fever. It started before we got here, but still...” she trailed off, lost in thought. Saryth picked up a piece of bread and then stopped, staring at his hands, remembering where they’d made the gateway from and worse, why they’d had to make it. Kite turned back to him.

“Are you all right?”

“I just remembered... what we did in Castellan.” He glanced sideways. She’d fought them too, after all. She was looking at him, a worried expression on her face.

“What? Oh, you mean the fight with the men attacking Aeryn?”

“I -” Saryth put a hand to his forehead, horrified at the memory. He had hit people, hit them so hard they had not fought back. Had not stood up again. He hadn’t even thought twice about it. His hands were shaking and he clenched his fists to keep them still.

“Hey,” Kite said gently, “they had to be stopped.”

“Yes, but...” he struggled to find a way to express his revulsion. “Not that way. Magic...”

“It’s better to use magic against those who have no defence?” Her voice was suddenly hard.

“What? But -”

“A lot of worlds take the view that that is an absolute wrong.”

He pushed the words away. They were too much to think about right now. A complication he couldn’t deal with while also facing his own capacity for violence, an unwelcome complexity he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I still think I should have done something else,” he said stubbornly. “An illusion or something.”

“Maybe. But you didn’t. Now you have to live with the choice you made.”

“I never thought I would do something like that to another person.” It came out as a whisper. He bent over, letting his hair fall between him and Kite, between him and the world. I never thought I would do to others what has been done to me. He couldn’t get those words out at all. Kite sighed.

“Saryth,” she said, more gently, “you didn’t kill them. You did not take away their freedom of choice. Among my people, that is an absolute wrong. And you saved Aeryn. Think of it as wrong if you will, but it is a lesser wrong than leaving him would have been.”

“I suppose.” He couldn’t deny the truth of that. She was right, she was always right. “Next time I’ll do what you want.”

“What? NO!” Kite jerked back and he raised his head, startled. She was glaring at him. “Don’t you dare try to evade responsibility like that! You’re my friend, not a slave! You have to live out your own choices!” She stood up. “Just like the rest of us.”

“But -” he fumbled to explain, managed only, “but I don’t know enough.”

“So think harder next time,” she said. “Just like the rest of us have to.” She marched to the table, picked up the jug, and turned back to him, fast enough that a few drops of water splashed out, making dark spots on the patterned blanket.

“I’m going out to see the healer,” she said, thrusting the jug into his hands. “You stay here. I don’t want you catching anything. Keep an eye on Aeryn, and try and give him some water if you can.”

“All right,” he said, holding the jug steady. Kite stamped her feet into her boots and tied the laces, then swirled her cloak about her shoulders and reached for her staff. I don’t want her to go like this.

“Kite?” he managed, and she paused, not looking at him. “I’m sorry. Take care.”

“I will.” She smiled over her shoulder as she opened the door. “See you soon.”

It was a relief to be out of the inn. The sun shone warmly on the packed dirt of the streets and cajoled Kite’s bad mood out of her as she walked through the small town, dodging the occasional cart. It wasn’t Saryth’s fault that he’d landed right on her nagging worry that she was taking advantage of him, overriding his nascent self-will to keep him with her because she liked having a companion. Because she liked having him around. Liked bossing him around. She shook her head, forced her attention back to the town. Small knots of people stood here and there, talking in low voices, wearing worried expressions. How many people have fallen ill? When she’d first left Saryth and Aeryn at the inn and gone to find Mira three days ago, the town had been full of comments along the lines of “just a touch of the spring chills” and “right as acorns in a day or two”. Only the canny healer had noticed the recovery was taking longer, and people were getting sicker, than they normally would. Nobody had listened to her then. I bet they’re listening now.

Mira lived over the shop where she sold her tinctures and gave advice. Kite knocked on the door, then stepped back in shock when it opened.

“Oh, hello Kite,” Mira said, grey-faced and wrapped in a blanket. Her voice was hoarse.

“Mira, you - when?”

“Last night.” Mira coughed into the blanket. “You shouldn’t come any closer. In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all. Things could go badly.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Just the persistent rumour that you’re plague carriers.” Mira’s expression was hard.

“Us?” Kite said, bemused. I thought she understood. “But we arrived after it started! How could we -”

“Grief, fear and frustration do not tend to logic. And your friends were ill when you came. Now would be a good time to go.”

“But we can’t leave - Aeryn can’t travel yet! And if you’re ill, who else will look after your patients?”

“You’d do that?” Mira’s expression softened. “But no, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“No-one’s asking anything! I’m offering!”

“They’d only read it wrongly. Please, if you can’t go, stay in the inn. Out of sight, out of mind, and you can leave quietly when your friend is well.”

Kite stared at the healer, a cold feeling inside her.

“Mira, you think it was him too, don’t you?”

“I - I don’t know.” Mira ducked her head, avoiding Kite’s gaze. “But...”

Kite sighed.

“We’ll go as soon as we can. Take care of yourself.”

“Of course. We’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Goodbye,” Kite said, and set off back to the inn. So much for that. She had liked Mira, from the little she’d seen of her. I would have liked to get to know her better.

Aeryn’s moan startled Saryth from his reverie. He hurried over and knelt by the bed. Did he say something?

“Sorry?” he asked, tentatively touching Aeryn’s forehead in an attempt to emulate Kite. I can feel the heat in him.

“... out... “ Aeryn mumbled, “get away...”

Saryth sat back on his heels and stared at him in concern. Should I give him some water? He filled a cup with water from the jug and tried to get Aeryn to open his mouth and drink some, but the other man just turned his head away, and Saryth only just avoided soaking the pillow. Where did Kite go? Should I try and find her? He opened the door a crack and peeked out. The door opened onto a small hall, with stairs leading down and a main door at the end. There was nobody visible. Saryth flinched as Aeryn groaned again. I can’t just sit here!

His boots were at the end of the bed, with the rest of his clothes. He pulled on his trousers but didn’t bother with his tunic or his hair. Hurrying down the stairs, he opened the door and found himself on a dirt-packed road lined with wooden houses. People turned and stared at him, suspicious expressions on their faces. Saryth faltered. This is worse than in Corwaith! Then a hand grabbed his arm and he yelped before recognising who held him.

“Oh, Kite!”

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be out here!” She tugged him back inside the inn and headed up the stairs. “What happened?”

“Aeryn - he’s really hot, and he said something.”

“He did? What did he say?”

“He sounded scared. He said, ‘out’, and ‘get away’”.

Kite opened the door to their room. In the scant few minutes Saryth had been out, Aeryn had thrown the covers off and curled up in the same protective position he’d been in when they found him in Castellan. He was motionless, either sleeping, unconscious or feigning it.

“Oh, Aeryn,” Kite said sadly.

“He moved.” Saryth felt like an idiot for stating the obvious.

“I promised Mira we’d leave as soon as we could,” Kite said, still staring at Aeryn. Then she heaved a sigh and turned to Saryth. “You get dressed properly. I’ll see if I can find some supplies.” She slung her bag-strap over her shoulder and secured it in position.

“Where are we going?”

“My people have a settlement three weeks’ journey from here. I’m hoping we can examine some records. I think we’ve lost the trail.” She opened the door again. “See if you can get Aeryn into those clothes.”

“Yes, all right.” Saryth closed the door as she hurried down the stairs. Once he was dressed and his hair tied back, he looked dubiously at the clothes Kite had mentioned, Aeryn’s trousers and Bartimelus’ priestly robe, both freshly washed thanks to the inn. Well, at least the robe shouldn’t be too hard. But what will we do if he can’t walk?

The question did not arise. Aeryn either woke up or stopped pretending to sleep when Saryth tried to put the robe on. He held out his arms obediently for the sleeves and even managed the trousers mostly unaided, then sat quietly on the bed, head down. The robes went well with his sun-gold hair, now a strangely untangled cascade falling to his waist. I wonder if we should tie it back? Saryth reached out to Aeryn’s hair, then stopped, feeling it would be rude to touch it without asking.

“You,” Aeryn said, looking up at Saryth, who jumped in surprise. “The girl from before?”

“Uh? No, no, I’m not a girl.” Saryth straightened up, flustered. “Um, can you stand? We have to go.”

“Tell me, is this the bad world?” His voice was quiet but there was a desperate plea in his eyes and Saryth didn’t understand. To his enormous relief, at that point Kite opened the door.

“Saryth!” Then she looked round. “Oh, Aeryn, you’re awake. We have a problem.” She shut the door and leaned against it, looking shaken. “There’s a, um, a deputation of villagers at the door. They -”

“Please tell me!” Aeryn interrupted. “Is this the bad world?”

Kite stared at him.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, and the question seemed somehow to have steadied her. “There are worse. Can you stand?” She fumbled under the bed and brought out a pair of boots. “Here, put these on.”

“Thank you,” Aeryn said, apparently calm now, and bent to put on the boots. Saryth slung his cloak over his shoulders and fumbled with the clasp.

“This,” Aeryn said, stroking the robe he was wearing. “Are you from Ath Shera?”

“No,” Kite said, “but we passed through.”

“This belonged to Bartimelus.”

“Yes. He has no use for it any more. I’m sorry.”

“I liked him,” Aeryn said quietly. “But it wasn’t the right place.”

“Right place?” Saryth asked.

“Not now,” Kite said as she led the way down the stairs. Aeryn followed behind Saryth. At the end of the hall a low hum was audible through the door, and when Kite opened it to reveal the crowd of angry, worried faces, Saryth understood.

“Oh,” he said, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I see.”

Kite stepped out of the inn and he followed, but their way was barred by the crowd. A tall man came forward, carrying himself like some kind of spokesman, and looked down at them steadily.

“We’re just waiting to see you go,” he said to Kite, ignoring the two men behind her. “Pardon the rudeness, but we don’t want plague carriers here.”

“But we didn’t -” Saryth started, but Kite shushed him and stepped forwards. The crowd shuffled back to make a way out, a path lined by angry faces, folded arms, and a rising mutter of voices.

“My father got sick yesterday.”

“Worst spring fever in fifty years.”

“My wife is ill.”

“Never been like this before.”

“Don’t want to lose her...”

Saryth broke after three steps, unable to bear the accusations.

“We didn’t do anything!” he protested. “It’s not our fault!”

“Shut your mouth, girl!” An angry man shoved him and Saryth fell back against Kite. “Get out! We don’t want you here!”

Saryth found his feet but he, Kite and Aeryn were hemmed in now, the crowd’s anger finding its outlet. He glanced at Kite.

“Oops,” he said weakly.

“What happened to thinking?” Kite asked, and then flinched as something flew by her head. Saryth raised his arm reflexively and another egg splatted his wrist.

“No!” A woman’s voice, hoarse but holding authority. Saryth couldn’t see who was speaking but Kite started in surprise. The crowd shifted and muttered.

“Hey, hey!” The spokesman came pushing his way through the crowd. “Throwing eggs is not going to help Dearsii, is it? Or Marnie, or Shan.” He positioned himself in front of Kite, Saryth and Aeryn and faced the throng. “You should be ashamed of yourselves!”

Under his gaze the crowd relented. Raised arms were lowered, stones were dropped. The anger was still there, but not the will to hurt.

“That’s better,” he said, then turned to face Kite. “Now. We’ve got a lot of work to do. And probably a lot of mourning to come. So unless you can help, please leave. Plague carriers or not, just go.” His face was set and sad, and Saryth felt his suppressed grief through his words.

“Kite,” he asked, as the spokesman turned away, “can this, this ‘virus’ be healed with magic?” She looked at him in surprise.

“Yes, but -”

“But what?”

“It’s very draining. I can’t - I haven’t enough power to do it.”

“Could I?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, but he had already started moving before she finished. “But - Saryth!”

“I can help,” Saryth said to the spokesman, and then stumbled over the next words. It was information he’d never volunteered before. “I’m a... I’m a mage. I can help.”