| abstract
| - The evening of Whistlewind 29, 626 A.T.A. Common Room (Indoors) (Cover: Fair) In stark contrast to this inn's somber title, the interior seems bright, cheerful, and frequently full of people. Perhaps because this establishment lies so close to the Palace District border, its denizens are not so wont to be overcome with the general depression that afflicts a large portion of the Shadow District's other residents. Entertainers often attempt to earn their keep up on the common room's central stage, and others relax over wine and ale on cushioned chairs beside the wide hearth. Aughol Zahir enters the Inn, flanked by his guard who is seeming a bit sickly. He moves to the bartender, frowning slightly. "Where is Miss Balsam?" Chaori Balsam calls down the stairs, "I am here, Baron. I am sorry. Would someone please at least come help me for a minute?" Aughol Zahir glances towards the stairs, nodding as he waves for the guard. "Coming, Miss Balsam." The guard downstairs actually seems to be recovering. Chaori Balsam repeats from up the stairs, "Thank you, your lordship. In a way, it is fitting that it should be you." Aughol Zahir raises an eyebrow as he ascends the stairs, followed by the guard. "And why is that?" He inquires, frowning slightly. Chaori Balsam is struggling with the corpse of the less skilled guard you assigned to her. "He just didn't respond to treatment at all," she says sadly. Aughol Zahir frowns as he hears her word, before looking to the guard. "I... I am sure you did all you could." Chaori Balsam bows her head. Silently, she nods. Aughol Zahir shakes his head slowly. "So, it was the pox? I suppose I underestimated the danger..." Chaori Balsam replies, "The dark pox does not always respond well to treatment. The mispreserved batch of herbs I accidentally used this morning certainly didn't help." Aughol Zahir sighs, nodding once more. "Indeed. Would you like a replacement?" HIs eyes linger on the body. Chaori Balsam sighs too. "A Marshal Nepos of the Blades is supposed to be arriving, if his duties ever permit it. Of the two other guards you left here, I think one has recovered. I've got the other one in bed upstairs, but he's doing as well as could be expected." Tahnin has long since been left alone by his healthier partners, who have since gone off to greener pastures where they aren't likely to keep over and die. And, thus, the man is busy keeping to himself and wandering about, much like a caged animal. Aughol Zahir nods his head. "Very well... Is there any other way I can assist you?" He asks, frowning slightly. Chaori says to Aughol, "He needs to be cremated, of course. Bury the ashes in stone, not just earth. I cannot carry a letter to the Lightholder courier. If you're willing to do so, I'll write one to the Chancellor." Aughol Zahir's expression seems to grow graver, as he finally shifts his eyes fully to Chaori. "Miss Balsam... Have you..." He stops there, blinking a few times. Chaori Balsam gives Aughol a sad, reassuring smile. "It is a hazard of the profession. I could be much worse. I've had to leave downstairs to itself and stay up here." The thug/mercenary/whatever pauses at the sight of the conversing pair, and the guard being hauled off. The man stares for a moment, seeming slightly more tired than usual (which says much, considering he always looks to be on the verge of falling asleep). Aughol Zahir sighs, nodding slowly. "Very well... Tell me what you'd like to be said in a letter... I'll write it. Better chance of it actually being read, especially since you're sick... Is there anything else?" Chaori Balsam thinks. "No, not yet, your lordship. Thank you." Is Tahnin making much noise? After Tahnin takes a few steps, it becomes fairly obvious that the mere fact that he's standing is somewhat miraculous. And he apparently couldn't keep it up for very long. The man reaches out to try to grab at the wall as he loses his balance to a dizzy spell, and he drops to his knees, squeezing his eyes closed and cursing quietly. Aughol Zahir glances to Tahnin, taking a few steps back. "He does not look all that great, Miss Balsam." As she hears the noise, Chaori gently sets the corpse down on the stairs and climbs back up the stairs. Reaching Tahnin's side, she tries to help him to his feet. "Easy now," she says to Tahnin. "Here, lean on me and try to stand." Tahnin has broken into a sweat, and growls quietly as Chaori approaches and reaches to him. The man rips his helmet off and tosses it to the side. "Shades, what is this?" he demands, looking up to her. "You said you'd make me better." Chaori Balsam replies, firmly, "I am trying to do just that. Dark pox is difficult to treat. Please, let me help you back to bed. It's time for another dose of herbs anyway." "Fine...give me the shading herbs. They'd better work," Tahnin grunts, struggling to stand on his own. That attempt fails, and he grudgingly accepts her help. "Why is it so hot?" He's talkative today. Aughol Zahir watches from a relatively safe distance away, a frown plastered to his face. "Miss Balsam... When you are done, please inform me of just what you'd like sent to the chancellor..." Chaori Balsam calls over her shoulder, "I will." She tells Tahnin, "You're running a fever, that's why. You need to lie quiet and let your body fight the pox." "Yeah. Yeah," Tahnin grunts, staggering along. "Fine. Just get me better." Chaori Balsam helps Tahnin back to his bed. "I'll be back with the medicine in just a bit," she promises. "Lie quiet and rest." Aughol Zahir glances about uneasily, adjusting the cloak about him as he awaits Chaori's return. Chaori Balsam returns, but isn't willing to come more than halfway down the stairs. "Do you have parchment, ink and pen?" Tahnin does as told and lays down, settling in on the bed. Aughol Zahir shakes his head. "Just tell me the message, I shall deliver it, do not worry." Chaori Balsam sits on the stairs and composes herself. "Today's date of course." Aughol Zahir steps back, motioning for the bartender, whom rummages under the bar for writing materials. Scrawling the date, he nods. "Continue." Chaori Balsam continues, "Your Grace: I apologize for missing the last few days of reports, but I contracted the pox. No one was available to carry a message for me to the Lightholder courier."
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