“he is very sick,” L’eesha agreed. “soon he will die.”
“L’eesha, that’s an awful thing to say!” I scolded. Though I had no love for Chud Larson, I didn’t wish death on him—at least, not this kind of death.
“i am only telling the truth,” she protested. “his dragon says he was bitten three days ago—it is too late to save him now.”
The Healer seemed to be coming to the same conclusion. As she examined Chud, he began laughing again, his no-color eyes rolling in his head. Then, with surprising quickness, he snapped at Professor Zephyr.
With an exclamation she drew her hand back just in time.
The Head Master, who was standing beside her, drew back also.
“Save him!” I heard him say to the Healer. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I can’t be sure, Head Master, but I am afraid he’s past saving,” she said, shaking her head sorrowfully. “If this is what I think it is, he’s too far gone.”
“What do you think it is?” he demanded angrily, his hand clenched into fists at his sides. If I’d ever had a doubt that Chud Larson was somehow related to him, I lost it now. He was clearly upset on a personal level.
“Head Master, please—I think we should speak of this in private.” Professor Zephyr cast her eyes around the Flight Terraces and I saw she didn’t want to start a panic among the workers and riders who were watching.
But the Head Master wasn’t having it.
“Say it! Tell me what it is!” he demanded. “Tell me what’s wrong with my boy?”
Professor Zephyr took a deep breath, and I saw the concern etched on her face.
“I believe,” she said at last, “That Cadet Larson was bitten by a Madling.”
The Head Master’s reply was instant.
“No, you’re wrong!” he said at once. “That’s a lie and you know it! The Madlings are all gone—they have been for a hundred years!”
“I’m sorry, but he has all the symptoms. Look at the side of his neck.”
The Healer pointed to the swollen left side of Chud’s face and neck, which was where the gray lines originated.
I wished I could get a closer look to see what the bite looked like, but he was too far away. My father had never had such symptoms—no swelling or gray lines—but he’d come home one night claiming to have been bitten and the very next day he was dead, having killed himself sometime in the early morning hours.
Could it be that the symptoms developed over time? Chud’s dragon had told L’eesha he’d been bitten three days ago.
I had so many questions, but no answers. Also, the Head Master was still insisting that Professor Zephyr had to heal Chud.
“Help him! You’re the Healer so heal him!” he demanded of her.
She shook her head sadly.
“The best I can do is to try and give him something to make him more comfortable. I fear his end is very near.”
“You’re lying!” The Head Master’s eyes were wild now. “He’s going to be fine. The Madlings are gone—he just has some kind of infection. Take him into the Infirmary and heal him now!”
Professor Zephyr shook her head again.
“I can’t bring him inside—the Madling venom is contagious. If he bites or scratches anyone else, it could spread.”
“But you can’t just—” the Head Master began.
But just then, Chud let out a loud, agonized wail. His whole body stiffened, and his back bowed as though he was going through some kind of seizure or spasm.
I felt my breath catch in my throat as I watched from above—his eyes were rolled back in his head and the whites were gray—as gray as the lines that covered his swollen face.
