“Where is Master Shivu?” Paedrin asked forcefully. “I must see him.”
Sanchein’s look of surprise was stricken with grief. “He is dying. Everyone is sick. The Rikes say it is the Plague. None of us are allowed to leave the temple. There are only four of us left alive.”
Paedrin stared at his friend in horror.
Just then, the gate bell began to ring.
“I have always been impressed by the Bhikhu. They do not rely on ducats or influence for power. Their integrity is their power. The master of the Bhikhu temple, in my opinion, is the epitome of the virtue of humility, which is the foundation of all the other virtues. In the soul in which this virtue does not exist there cannot be any other virtue except in mere appearance.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The sadness and shock nearly overwhelmed Paedrin. The look in Sanchein’s eyes showed that he was not lying. He had no reason to. The grief in his expression was clear as the dawn. The truth of his words shredded into Paedrin’s heart with full misery. He did not believe it was the Plague. It was the ruthlessness of the Arch-Rike that was to blame. It was revenge, cold and hard. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak. But the tolling of the bell meant that Hettie was warning him to flee. He could not do so yet.
“Take me to Master Shivu,” Paedrin whispered hoarsely. “Quickly, I must see him!”
“But how did you…?”
“I swear I will crush your other toe if you do not take me to him right now!”
A little smile wavered on Sanchein’s mouth as he remembered. “Come.”
The two hastened through the darkened temple. The smell of sickness was everywhere. As their sandals clacked on the tiles, Paedrin stared at the empty corridors. The sound of flies swarming filled the air. He gritted his teeth, preparing himself for what he would see.
Sanchein wavered at the doorstep. “He is in great pain, Paedrin. I’ve never seen a man suffer so. Pain is a teacher, but what lesson this pain teaches is beyond me. His agony weakens him. I can’t believe he’s dying, Paedrin.” Tears glittered on his lashes.
Paedrin pushed his way through the fragile doorway and saw Master Shivu. Or what remained of him. He had shrunken with the sickness, making his body appear like a skeleton. His skin was flushed and he wore no shirt, so that his bones protruded like some reptilian thing. The stubble on his head was growing and he had not shaved in several days, allowing white whiskers to grow on his face. His eyes burned with fever and he sat erect, sweat glistening on his body. A bowl of vomit sat between his legs.
The skin and eyes were sallow. The stench in the room was overpowering. Dried lips parted, trembling with clenched pain. “Paedrin,” he croaked.
Seeing the agony in his master’s eyes shook him to his core. Shivu was Vaettir-born. Paedrin could not remember a single time he had ever been ill. Now he looked like a desiccated leaf, trembling under a breeze, waiting for the stem to snap off.
“Master,” Paedrin sighed, rushing to him. He reached to take the bony hand, but a subtle nod bid him stop.
“I…I…hoped you…would come. Grieve not for…me.” His breath was shallow, full of pain. “I will…rest…soon.”
“Master,” Paedrin said, shaking his head. Tears stung his eyes. How could he not grieve for the man? “I need your help. But I cannot leave you like this. There are Druidecht who can heal you. If I can take you away from here…”
A clicking sound came from Master Shivu’s throat. “Too…late. No keramat in the city. Only the Arch-Rike’s magic. He will not…heal me. Or the students. He is…angry for my refusal. Seek…the Shatalin temple, Paedrin. Seek…the sword. You will need it…to survive.” His eyes closed. “Scourgelands. To survive…”
“But where is the Shatalin temple?” Paedrin pleaded. He wiped his eyes furiously, unable to prevent the pain of his breaking heart. “Where do I look, Master?”
“The Vaettir…arrived…by sea. Shatalin. The ocean…west. Fog and mists. Rocks and mountains. Beyond Stonehollow. Seek Lydi. Shipyards. They will know where…in the mountains. When the ships came…they founded Shatalin for training Bhikhu. Separate from…Silvandom.”
Shivu grimaced, eyes blazing. His whole body trembled and shook from his legs to his neck muscles. He moaned and reeled, struck by another fierce wave of pain. The bed started to rattle with his convulsions. Paedrin stared at him helplessly. He wished Khiara had been there, who with a touch could have calmed the pain. He was furious with the Arch-Rike for allowing his master to suffer.