There was a muffled commotion somewhere outside their cell.
Hohsalle raised his head and looked at Makokan. “What’s that?”
Makokan stood and pressed his ear against the stone wall.
“Sounds like they’ve brought in another prisoner.” The voices were indistinct, but someone must have been thrown into the neighboring cell, judging from the footfalls and clang of a closing door.
The prison had been made by sealing natural rock chambers with iron bars, and the wall between this chamber and the next was thicker than those of a castle dungeon. Even with his ear pressed against the stone, Makokan heard nothing from beyond.
Pulling away from the frigid surface, he turned to Hohsalle. “What’s going on?”
Hohsalle scowled. “Don’t ask me,” he snapped. “No point in trying to guess, either. We’ll just have to take things as they come.”
Makokan sighed. “I suppose so. The fact that they didn’t kill us outright suggests that we have some value at least.”
Makokan recalled his sister’s words. Presumably, only Hohsalle and Milalle were worth keeping alive. He shoved the depressing thought from his mind. Worrying about it wouldn’t change anything.
As a boy, Makokan had heard rumors about caves where the Ahfal Oma imprisoned people for serious crimes, but he’d never dreamed he’d end up there himself.
If I continue serving the young master, it’ll be a miracle if I survive.
A little grunt interrupted his thoughts. The girl, who’d been chattering away to Milalle until a short while ago, had wrapped herself in a fur and fallen asleep, curled up between Milalle and the rock. She mumbled something now as she pulled the fur close and rolled toward the wall. Makokan thought she was a brave thing to fall asleep without so much as a whimper of complaint in these circumstances.
Hohsalle wrapped an arm around Milalle’s shoulder. She was shivering. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s nothing. I’m fine.” Despite her words, her voice was trembling.
“Stop trying to act tough. Are you cold?”
She nodded. One of the guards had brought them each a fur blanket, but even when wrapped in those, the stone floor felt like ice. The only fire was that of a single candle.
Hohsalle bullied Milalle into taking his fur. After wrapping her in both, he put his arms around the woman and held her tight. She continued shivering regardless.
Hohsalle placed a hand on her forehead and frowned. Her skin was burning.
“How long have you had a fever?”
Milalle swallowed. “It’s recent.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “I noticed that my throat was sore this morning, but…”
Hohsalle felt the glands behind Milalle’s ears, then ordered Makokan to bring him the candle. The flickering light hardly made it easy to see, but Hohsalle raised the candle high and peered in Milalle’s throat.
“It’s swollen. I hope it’s just a cold,” he said.
She stared up at him with listless eyes.
“You weren’t bitten by a tick, were you?”
“I tried to be careful.” Milalle had worn long sleeves, men’s trousers, and boots, and she had tied a scarf around her neck and head. Even so, ticks were tiny enough to slip through undetected, and their bites were painless. People rarely noticed when one crawled into their hair. Milalle washed her hair often, but that wasn’t enough to dislodge a tick once it fastened its jaws under her scalp.
Hohsalle handed the candle back to Makokan and removed Milalle’s scarf. After checking her neck, he combed through her locks with his fingers, peering at her scalp. His hands paused.
“Shine the light here,” he said.
Beneath Milalle’s hair, behind her left ear, was a small black dot. A tick, its body already partially gorged with blood.
Hohsalle bit his lip. Judging by the size of the parasite, it had been there for at least a day. It didn’t guarantee she would get sick. Most tick bites were harmless, in fact. But if a tick was infected, the danger of it transmitting the disease increased if it remained attached for more than a day.
Hohsalle’s pulse quickened and fear swept through him, squeezing his chest.
Get a grip on yourself. It might not be mittsual at all. In fact, there’s a high chance this tick doesn’t carry the disease. Perhaps it’s just a cold.
Logic was a poor comfort for his racing heart. A chill crept from his forehead and across his scalp, numbing his head. Staring at his quivering fingers, he took a ragged inhale and released it.
“Did you find a tick?” Milalle asked.
Hohsalle nodded. “Yeah.”
Milalle shivered and closed her eyes.
“Should I take it off?” Makokan asked, bringing the candle near, but Hohsalle stopped him.
“Idiot! If you bring that flame any closer, it’ll start squirming and burrow even deeper.”
“But—”
“If it dies with its jaws still inside her, they’ll stay there, increasing the risk of contamination! How can you not know something so obvious?”
Milalle reached out and pulled Hohsalle’s head down against her breast. Hugging him to her, she whispered, “Hohsalle, Hohsalle. Calm down. Please.”
He took an unsteady breath while wrapped in her familiar scent and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the fear from crawling up from the pit of his stomach. Just the thought that she might have mittsual was unbearable.
I should have sent her back to Kazan.
Waves of remorse crashed through Hohsalle, and he clenched his teeth.
This is no time to wallow in guilt. Come on. Think. What should I do?
A tick had bitten Milalle, and her throat showed signs of infection. She had a fever, too. The first thing to do was inject her with the new medicine. Immediately.
Footsteps sounded outside the cell. Startled, Makokan peered through the iron bars. A torch had been thrust into a hole in the rock wall opposite their cell. By its light, he saw a short figure approaching, one of the Yusula Oma. His face seemed familiar. Makokan was pretty sure it was the little girl’s uncle.
“Young Master,” Makokan whispered.
Hohsalle looked up, and Makokan gestured to the iron grating with his eyes. A short man stared through the bars with clear uneasiness.
“You there!” Hohsalle called. The little man jumped, but rather than run away, he pressed his face against the bars and peered inside.
“Is my niece all right?” he asked.
Hohsalle’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re the girl’s uncle? Have you come to take her home?”
Makokan reached out to wake her.
“No, please don’t,” the man said. “They ordered me to leave her here.”
Hohsalle took that response with surprise. “Why? Do they plan to lock her up in here, too?”
The short man nodded. After a quick look behind to ensure the guards’ attention was focused on the neighboring cell, he whispered, “Her situation is rather complicated. I’m not permitted to tell you anything, sir, but I beg of you, please, take pity on her.”
Hohsalle, still holding Milalle in his arms, stared at the man for a moment. “All right,” he said finally. “We’ll look after her. But in return, please do something for me.”
The little man’s expression clouded. “But—”
Hohsalle cut him off. “It’s not difficult. You know the hut we borrowed in the village, don’t you? All of our effects are there. I want you to fetch me some medicine. Be careful not to break anything. Milalle’s feverish. A tick bit her, and I think she might have black wolf fever.”
The little man’s eyes grew round.
“I’ve got to treat her. If we’re of any value to the Ahfal Oma as hostages, then they don’t want her to die on them, right?”
Hohsalle’s voice shook, and there was a desperate gleam in his eyes. “And if she dies, I die. I guarantee that I’ll find a way to kill myself. So please. Go out there and convince them to let you bring me the medicine!”