To the Tower of Light (1)
While the middle-aged physician examined Cecil with meticulous care, Cloud and Sophia watched in silence at his side.
Perhaps the prognosis was as poor as they feared, for the doctor's expression was grim, and a long silence stretched on. Sophia, unable to shake her dread, quietly wiped away tears in the corner.
"Let's let the patient rest. We can talk outside."
Leaving Cecil alone in her room, they filed out into the kitchen. It opened directly onto the dining hall, so the raucous din of drunken patrons came pouring in — a jarring contrast to the grave mood on this side of the wall.
Cloud took a seat across from the doctor.
"Is it an illness she can't recover from?"
"For now, I'd put her odds at fifty-fifty."
The doctor went on, his face dark.
"Going by what your daughter described — the body aches and the listlessness — her symptoms closely resemble a summer cold."
"A summer cold?"
"Colds caught in summer can be remarkably vicious. They bring a persistent fever, a languid heaviness, fatigue that sets in at the slightest exertion, and a dead weight in the shoulders, lower back, and limbs. The reason I can't say for certain that it is a cold, however, is that while her condition mirrors one, she shows none of the accompanying signs — no runny nose, no sneezing, no congestion. That makes it very difficult to diagnose this as a simple cold."
The doctor heaved a sigh.
"Which leaves only one possible cause. She has been struck by dark magic."
"Magic? Then shouldn't we fetch a mage or a priest?"
"Yes. I'm afraid this is as far as I can go."
Cloud ran straight to Yolonda Temple that very moment and returned with Vivian in tow. As luck would have it, she was the priestess on night duty that evening.
Early in the evening, Vivian arrived at the Tironde Inn and went into Cecil's room to study her condition closely.
A short while later she emerged into the kitchen and, fixing Sophia with a grave look, spoke.
"With rumors spreading lately of a witch appearing frequently around the city, I've seen any number of patients complaining of the very same symptoms as your daughter. When our temple first encountered this dark curse, our priests attempted to dispel it with Cure magic. The holy magic had no effect whatsoever."
"Then what am I supposed to do about my daughter! What do I do!"
Sophia burst into tears and pounded her fists against Cloud's chest.
"Koff! Koff!"
Cloud, who had absorbed the full force of her blows, coughed again and again as he turned to Vivian.
"Is the dark curse simply too powerful, then? Koff!"
True to the promise he'd made before, he had not forgotten his manners in front of Vivian.
"It's a bitter thing to admit, but the grade of holy magic we possess fell far short. Which is as much as to say the witch's magic is every bit as potent as the rumors claim. Unless one were a high priest of truly exceptional ability, dispelling the dark curse is simply impossible."
"So there's no way at all?"
"As time passed, the afflicted passed away, one by one..."
"Ah...!"
"Sophia!"
The moment the word "death" left Vivian's lips, Sophia's legs buckled beneath her. Cloud caught her just before she hit the floor.
Only after he had hurried her into a chair did the conversation resume.
"As time passed, the afflicted passed away, one by one. Searching for a cure, our temple spent night after sleepless night racking our brains — until, by chance, we stumbled upon the answer. And a surprisingly simple one it was."
"What is it?"
"An herb called the Frost Ice Flower. Ingest it, and a full recovery is possible."
"Then administer it right away! You have some on hand, don't you?"
Cloud's face lit up. Vivian's, however, remained grim.
"It isn't such a precious herb, but our current stock has run dry. And not merely our temple — you could search every shop in the city and come up empty. So many people are seeking it now that the price has climbed considerably as well."
"Why?"
"The witch's recent appearance sent patients flooding in overnight, and every store in the city sold through its supply. It has become a very difficult herb to come by."
"That goddamn witch! Goddamn it all!"
Cloud spat curses at the ceiling. Beside him, Sophia took out her handkerchief and went on quietly weeping into it.
"Then where do we dig the stuff up? Do you know where it grows?"
"That, too, is not so simple..."
Vivian's voice was heavy with regret.
"Across the continent it flows through the markets without trouble, but whether our climate disagrees with it or what, it is rarely seen in this region. Our temple keeps itself supplied only by trading with the merchants who visit the city."
"When does this merchant come? Isn't he in the city now?"
"He has already come and gone this month. At the very earliest, he won't return for another two weeks."
At Vivian's answer, Cloud clenched his fist and groaned.
"So you're telling me she has to lie in that bed for two weeks, in that state, without any medicine at all?"
"In her present condition, I doubt she would last even three days..."
Vivian dropped her gaze and let the words trail off into a murmur.
Sophia abruptly broke into loud sobs.
"She's dying? That can't be...! My daughter is going to die! Cloud! Cloud! What do I do about my daughter! Tell me what to do!"
Just then, a customer's voice rang out from the dining hall, calling for Sophia.
"Hey! Sophia! Bring another round over here! Hahaha!"
Still clutching Cloud, she hastily dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and hollered toward the hall.
"Coming! I'll bring it right out, so hang tight!"
Sophia hurried from the kitchen with mugs of ale in hand. Waiting on the customers in the hall, she wore a bright smile, for all the world as if she had never been crying at all.
Cloud watched her in silence, his expression sour. Her plight — forced to smile for the customers and keep the inn running mere moments after weeping over her sick daughter — was truly heartbreaking.
Only if the inn prospered could she put food in her daughter's mouth, or pay for treatment when the girl fell ill.
"Hmm... As a matter of fact, there is one way."
Vivian spoke at last, after a long deliberation.
"There is exactly one place in this region where the Frost Ice Flower grows."
"Really?"
Cloud's eyes went wide.
"It is an exceedingly dangerous place, and the odds of actually bringing the flower back are slim, so I had no intention of mentioning it at all. But watching a mother who cares for her daughter so dearly... it calls to mind my own mother back home."
Vivian held Cloud's gaze steadily.
"If I tell you, will you go?"
"Of course I'll go."
"It's an exceedingly dangerous place. Are you certain?"
"I'm going all the same."
"Why? You're merely a guest at this inn, aren't you, Cloud? An outsider with no connection whatsoever to this family."
"Then what do priests tell themselves when they comfort people? You pray day after day for complete strangers, don't you? What I feel right now is exactly the same. Does love need a reason?"
He laid it on thick.
Cloud meant to go with nothing to his name, knowing nothing, prepared for nothing — charging off on pure impulse.
Volunteering for danger on another's behalf was, for Cloud, an impossibility beyond impossibility. Under ordinary circumstances he would have sneered at such behavior as pathetic.
And yet his chest was ablaze. It ached to see Cecil sick, and watching Sophia wrung his heart with pity. He wanted to do something — anything — for the two of them.
So there was nothing to deliberate.
Vivian stared at him as if in wonder, then said quietly,
"So you had a side like this in you."
"What side?"
"A side that thinks of others, I mean."
"And what did you think before?"
"A disgusting pervert."
At that, Cloud snapped his fingers.
"You read me exactly right."
He admitted it, cool as you please.
"Now then, let's get to the matter at hand, shall we? Where is this place?"
"One more question first. You can promise to come back alive, can't you? Promise me."
"I fully intend to come back alive and spend my days at the temple praying beside you, Priestess Vivian — our little dates, if you will. Until then, dying is absolutely off the table."
"Then don't come back. Just die out there."
"Thank you for your concern."
"Hey. I never said I was worried, did I? Not one word of this conversation hangs together."
She sighed as though her head ached, looking for all the world like a woman who considered herself a fool for having tried, even a little, to see Cloud in a better light.
"The precise location lies in the border country between the lands ruled by our own Lord of Valois and the territory of the Lord of Valentino to the north. Somewhere in that vicinity is the one and only spot where Frost Ice Flowers grow in clusters. Are you familiar with the Ten Years' War? A citizen of this kingdom — of course you must be?"
Cloud spread both hands as though he were hearing the name for the first time in his life.
"The Ten Years' War? Never heard of it. Stories like that never made it as far as the country village I lived in. Wasn't in any of the books, either."
"I see you come from the frontier."
"It's not that far from here, though. Two weeks on foot, give or take?"