The Violet Curse

Chapter Five - Stones

The influx of now homeless, frightened people who were kept just outside of Crow Post was adrift with rumors of Wolfshadow cult raids, and mass murders, and missing children. It was difficult enough to keep the peace and treat the wounded without the citizens of Laurel picking fights with the people of Dry Port, or the upper classes of Cressen provoking others with their accusations of alliances with the dreadful cult. And to make matters worse, the Enforcers had not stepped in, as was their sworn duty. The people had no protection.

       The supplies were dwindling fast, and with so many people who were in such close quarters, disease could break out among them and spread quickly. It would turn the already terrible situation into a dire one. And it was never spoken aloud, but there was a thick apprehension among them all because the people of Cyan were not counted among these fortunate survivors.

       In the meantime, John imagined very few of the leaders who were at the meeting truly knew how close they all were to disaster. He'd returned to this mess, and when he'd seen the state Crow Post was in, he'd immediately begun to snap orders to help ensure that chaos would not erupt. Then he'd advised the posted doctor here to call this meeting to order. There was a lot to discuss, and there was a lot more to do — and it all needed doing before the fast-approaching spring rains flooded the basin to the north. Before those rains turned heavier and overcame the roads and began to wash them away again this year. These people could not be allowed to idle until the waters trapped them here. It would end badly for everyone.

       The meeting itself started very well, and everything went according to the agenda they had set . . . until the lead mortician, Dr. Ellie Mae, stepped in.

       "I don't know what has come over your daughter," said Ellie Mae as she stormed inside, her fist clenched tightly about a small leather purse. "First, that hair-raising screaming of hers in the night, waking me out of a dead sleep next door. And then that bloody, creepy song that sent those poor mourning mothers into hysterics after the deaths of their children. Now these." There was a clinking sound as Ellie Mae emptied the small leather pouch onto the table. Six jaggedly broken, glittering glass shards spilled across the polished steel. The candlelight flickered near them, as though the glass had stolen a breath from the room.

       For a moment, none among the thirty field doctors, apothecaries, botanists, attendants, brewers, emissaries, or even Crow Post's leaders, said a word. Silence had gathered, thick and heavy as a thundercloud, ready to split wide open with deafening sound.

       The back of John's neck prickled as one of those shards slid across the table. The glassy item stopped merely a centimeter from his fingers, where his hands clasped each other tightly.

       A single gunshot thundered outside among the hordes of refugees, and an angry scream slithered after it, and then a wolf's howl, just outside the refugees' camps. They ignored the noise, knowing the situation would be handled while they were busy getting their affairs in order.

       Meanwhile, on the table before them, the shards seemed to begin to glow from within. It was faint, but a violet radiance flamed there. Men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, and Sean Heinzrich fell silent; he was unsure whether to proceed, given the hostility in Ellie Mae's glare as she directed that anger at John.

       John struggled to keep his expression impassive. "We are busy, Dr. Mae," he said evenly.

       But another man had leaned forward, shocked. "Are those . . . ?" It was John's friend Amos Shipwright, who was Crow Post's assigned doctor. He was the man in charge of the post. The man was more often referred to by the pseudonym of Nails.