A medical emergency

[fadingworld]

A deep navy cloak hides his features and the more ornate tunic the courtesan usually wears to greet his clients. Mal hunches his shoulders and slides through the crowds hoping to avoid notice. He keeps his head down until he reaches the home of the doctor and wraps smartly on the door. "Open up," he calls in a voice that expects to be listened to.

How much time did he have? He could not have a client bleeding out. Not this one. Not one who had come to him for help, to be treated privately.

Comments

[mandragoraspiritus]

"It is possible that I do, in fact, have something that could help. But let us first ascertain just what it is that ails you, shall we?"

He gestures that Mal should take a seat on the cot while he himself sits won on a stool opposite him. "What seems to be the problem and when did it start?"

[fadingworld]

Mal settles down, smoothing his clothes out, sitting neat and correct. "I've been feeling tired this week," he says, "I thought I was just working too hard." He shrugs gracefully, "It happens around this time of year and a trip into the country usually sees me right."

He shivers and wraps his arms around himself. "Instead I've come back with a chill."

[mandragoraspiritus]

Regis can already tell from Mal's complexion that something is wrong, and upon standing and laying his hands to his face, feeling his forehead and neck, it is clear that the young man has a fever.

"You are certainly running a bit fo a temperature," he murmurs, checking Mal's pulse and gently lifting his eyelids just briefly.

"Is there anything else? How about other people around you? Have anyone taken ill recently?"

[fadingworld]

Mal shakes his head, "There was a general tiredness and a few colds when I left three days ago." He swallows and thinks back on the last few days.

"Those who I have been with have been in perfectly good health apart from their tempers." He groans, "I don't have time to be sick."

[mandragoraspiritus]

Regis hums to himself. Tiredness and a few colds, three days ago. That would do for an incubation time.

"Time for it or not, you are not well, that I can already tell you. Can you undress, please? Waist up will do."

[fadingworld]

Mal's lips curl up into a teasing smile, "I knew my charms would have an effect on you eventually." But there was no real effort put into the words, it sounded wooden and the deep red tunic is soon folded neatly on the cot.

He can feel goosebumps on his skin. "Would you like me to stand and twirl for you?"

[mandragoraspiritus]

"None of that," Regis chides him gently. There is nothing adoring about his touches but nor is he rough. He's simply practiced, clinical as he checks him over, feeling out lymph nodes and frowning slightly upon finding several to be swollen. He can already hear Mal's heartbeat and breathing just fine, but in an act of theater he uses a narrow and funnel-shaped instrument to listen.

"Is there anything else? Aches in the joints? Headaches? Coughs?"

[fadingworld]

Mal submits to the examination, he's used to checkups twice a year. "Head was aching on the way here," he admits. The aches he felt, well they seemed minimal to him and he brushes them off.

"Nothing else," he says breezily, "I'm stiff from a day of travel but that is completely normal."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"Fever, headache, stiffness, swollen lymph nodes..." Regis mumbles as he continues his examination. There's a smell of sickness about Mal that he doesn't like. "And it is just coming in now..."

Finishing up he gestures for Mal to get dressed again, stepping over to browse his shelves. "Hopefully it is no more than a minor infection, some virus picked up. I do have some strengthening tonics I could give you, but I would wish your assurance that you will send word for me should you get any worse."

[fadingworld]

"Of course," Mal assures him. "I'll pass on what you've said to the House for the records." As he leans forward to put his head through his tunic he feels a strong wave of dizziness and leans back, holding still waiting for it to pass.

Up he tells himself after a moment. Pushing up the world tilts alarmingly around him and he finds himself on the floor with the no recollection of how he got there.

[mandragoraspiritus]

He isn't long on the floor, though. Very soon a pair of thin and wiry but surprisingly strong arms scoop in under him to lift him up.

"That, I fear, we will have to say counts to getting worse," Regis says as he lays Mal down on the cot, stretching him out and quickly snatching up a blanket to drape over him. "I must say that I am extremely reluctant to letting you return to The Rose Thorn in this state. So reluctant, in fact, that I think I shall simply have to send word that you will be a time returning."

[fadingworld]

"Tell them, I'll be there by nightfall," Mal says pulling the blanket tighter around him. If he could just get warmed up it would be fine. The shivers are getting worse, harder to stop. "I hate to be pain but could I have another blanket. Please?"

[mandragoraspiritus]

No, Regis does not think that Mal will return to the establishment by nightfall. In fact, he's sure of it. But nevertheless he goes out to speak with the coachman after hanging draped another blanket over Mal, informing the man that Mal has taken ill and that he will be kept there a time. After hanging been given a tip for his trouble, the coachman is on his way.

He's quick to return to Mal's side, immediately mixing up a tonic for him and setting a medicinal tea to brew, then gently propping him up to coax the first liquid into him. He can easily feel that the fever is rising. "Well, my friend, I dare say that you arrived here just in time."

[fadingworld]

The liquid feels like sandpaper going down his throat. He leans back against the arm, instinctively trying to arrange his body to look elegant.

"Are you sure this place isn't making me sick?" he asks half joking. "My head is trying to split into two."

[mandragoraspiritus]

Silly man, Regis thinks as he notices the shift Mal does. Even now he must look his best.

"I dare say that this place will make you well but I should also tell you that I doubt you will be fit to leave it for several days." His cool fingers lays over Mal's forehead a moment. "Your temperature is most certainly rising, but I shall have a tea ready for you soon that should help with that, as well as with the headache."

[fadingworld]

Two days. Mal's mind swirls. Who had appointments with him? With a low groan of despair he tabulates the potential loss of earnings for the Rose Thorn. Combining this with the trip that had been cut short he would not be popular with the Madam.

"I'll do whatever you say if you can have me out of here before two days are out," he murmurs. "You broke the Duke's fever quickly."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"The duke's fever was one that I myself induced in him to burn out the poison he had been subjected to. This is something else and not as easily countered when I do not know the cause for it. I will certainly do my best, but sickness must run its course. It is better that you rest now rather than have this haunt you for a longer time."

He lays Mal down but is soon back to lift and prop him up again, now to drink the bitter tea that he's cooled down and diluted with some clean, cold water.

[fadingworld]

Mal mumbles as he's shifted back up, making a noise of pain as his aches make themselves known in the shift. He drinks automatically.

"If, I talk in my sleep please ignore what I say."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"You can rely on my doctor's discretion," Regis assures and then gently lays Mal down again once he's finished drinking the dose of medicine.

There's a knock on the door not much later, where an anxious coachman informs Regis that The Rose Thorn is closed and under quarantine. That is worrisome an makes Regis wonder just what he has to deal with in Mal. It also means that his clinic too must be closed off from the public. He thanks the coachman and sends him on his way, and after having fixed a sign to his front door he locks it tight.

[fadingworld]

Mal dozes off, sleeping restlessly. Only waking when the door shuts behind Regis. His fever bright eyes track the other's movement.

"You can leave me if there is someone else to tend to," he says.

[mandragoraspiritus]

"There isn't and there won't be." He silently debates with himself the merits of being truthful to Mal, and the strain of worry of telling the man just what is going on.

In the end, honesty wins out.

"You should know that The Rose thorn is under quarantine. I just now received word. So for the sake of safety, I have closed my doors as well."

[fadingworld]

Any lasting colour drains from Mal's face. "I've brought trouble to your doors," he says apologetically. "Do they know what it is?" There were courtesan's who were quite delicate, if there was anything serious...

[mandragoraspiritus]

"The messenger did not say, though I have asked to be informed." Regis sounds quite calm about it all, moving around the room to chose between his various remedies, collecting the ones he thinks has the best chance of working.

"For your part, all you must turn your focus on is resting and recovering."

[fadingworld]

"Please keep me up to date," Mal says shutting his eyes. It would be rude to turn his back and curl into a ball, tempting as it was. "What are you going to use on me?" He can listen at least, though what he'll remember as the fever takes a strong hold on him is debatable.

[mandragoraspiritus]

"That will depend entirely on how the symptoms progress. Willow bark for certain. Sage and rosemary for the inflammation. Yarrow, elderflower, ginger and boneset, most likely." It turns into a bit of a lecture with Regis listing the various qualities of herbs and how he would prepare them, of teas versus tinctures or the more powerful distillates he manufactures himself. It is true what people say, that he likes to talk, but now he also speaks because it seems to give Mal comfort to listen.

Eventually though it becomes clear that Mal has drifted off into sleep made uneasy by fever. The hard, narrow cot really isn't the place for proper rest, Regis feels. So once again this day he slides his arms in under the sleeping man and gently picks him up, cradling him easily as he carries him off into his own sleeping quarters, laying him down on the bed there and covering him with his own sheets and blankets. The scent fo herbs remains strong here as well but there is something else; like a tang of metal, of copper or iron. And, underneath it all is petrichor, the scent of rain-washed soil.