The Bringer of Rot

“Where did the first-do-no-harm go!?” Fritz yelled. “I want my lawyer! This…does not hurt?”

“Careful, now. I have had bad experiences not just with the lawyer, but the lawmaker himself.”

The Physician continued to incise, not minding Fritz’s glare.

When he heard about a disease spreading on the perimeter of the Tabesugiburg Forest, Milica and he stopped the case at hand. ‘Mysterious disease’ hit too close to their past, but could offer potential clues about the main Plague. The Physician wanted to tell Fritz that, but he figured he’d get more uncooperative.

“Do you read books, Fritz?”

The small talk happened as the Physician peeled the ochre-coloured rot. Fritz stayed silent, though the Physician noted his foliage twitched with interest.

Hobbies, crossed. The Physician made a mental note. Families, crossed. We are off to a good start in the rapport department.

“You must have no friends,” Milica accused. “Even if you are born female, you only attract the caliber of someone who’s accused of spreading a plague. On a deathbed.”

“Shush, Milica.”

“I won’t shush,” she defied. “If you are born different, open up a little when someone shows interest.”

“What do you know?” Fritz hissed. “You have people that accept your differences.”

“I had, yes. Past tense. The pity parade is fun and all until you lose those people.” Milica stood up; her expression was closer to boredom than anger. “I will mix the anticoagulants, Fratello. Try offering him coffee next. Speaking with the Gorgon Sisters was more thrilling than him.”

The Physician laughed. “Thanks, Mil. Don’t mind him. Fritz is just unnerved.”

Fritz's face grew a shade greener, which the Physician considered as the way a dryad blushes. “Why would I get unnerved by her?”

“No, I meant that your nerves are frayed.” He pulled a bulb from Fritz's hand with a wooden tweezer. “See this bulb? That should be your plant nerves. Whatever the rot is, they start by attacking the plant's nerves. When a dryad restores her life force, she also absorbs the plant’s nerves—”

“--thus contracting the rot,” Fritz finished. “I thought you were just another forager. You came here to fix the clearing. It was not just for business as usual.”

The Physician stayed still. Fritz's veins fascinated him more than Fritz’s sudden clarity.

“It is just business as usual,” Milica ended the shush in the Physician’s place. She placed the anticoagulant bottles. “When we are talking about the forest, it’s not just about the dryad. Life cycles around the forest. One victim is enough to start a kingdom-level pestilence. Hmph, you are surprised I can speak intelligently, right? I read books, mind you. The nerve!”

Milica had read him accurately. Fritz's face went red… err, green again. “I apologize.”

“No, I meant your nerve sample. I was asking Fratello.” Milica received Fritz’s nerve. The vampiress flinched, seeing the tissue wobbling inside her blood. “Urk. Please tell me it didn’t come from bat guano.”

“Relax. No more cave-diving for now, Milica.” The Physician wiped his hands. He had wrapped Fritz's wound with salve and unknown fiber for gauze. “We still don’t know about the bug, but we can be sure it’s not from any animal or visible monster. I know I should’ve listened to Crivello’s guide when I was still in the office. The nerve…”

Milica peeked once again. “Yes, it seemed like the rot slowed down in the anticoagulants. We can exclude metals. Substance not beast-like, but not plant-like either. Hmm…”

“No, what I meant was my nerve.” He brushed his fingers. “I touched his nerve—”

Milica looked at the Physician cross. “You self-flagellating… Fratello!”

“--and found no living memory on it. It is not a sentient agent.” His gaze landed on Fritz, who was now admiring the salve. “Someone from the Clearing transmitted the rot to Fritz. And it becomes even more mind-boggling when you consider that Fritz has no one taking care of him.”

***

Two hours had passed since Fritz’s operation. Around Fritz's ex-deathbed, Milica and he made camp. Milica happily stood guarding the perimeter, away from the bonfire. Fritz's gaze followed her, noting her pale face.

“It is time for the history taking, then.” The Physician cleared his throat, kindly redirecting Fritz's attention. “The immediate threat of amputation is cleared, even if it is temporary. We need to know what happened in the Clearing.”

Fritz paused.

“You are not what I imagined.”

For the first time, the Physician’s smile wore off. “Let’s not detour, Fritz. Time is the essence. If you are in the mood for prying about Maniattania’s plague, do so when we clear this forest’s plague.”

It was as if the amber eyes that stared at Fritz were made of fire, too. The Physician looked away.

“It happened around six months ago, I think?” Fritz continued. “The first dryad to contract it was an impatiens dryad.”

Milica snorted, still not looking at the fire. The Physician threw her an offended look.

“She lived close to the center of the Clearing. She’s the typical introvert who only cares for her own look on the water’s surface and rarely travels, so it’s a surprise that she was the one contracting first.” Fritz looked at the sky. “The first one was the petals. Hers turned to gray. She went ballistic, too. Even more than usual. She drowned her head repeatedly inside the lake, even when it was raining. It’s as if she needs to stay humid. Then she died. Bloated like a rotten fruit containing too much nectar.”

Milica raised her eyebrows. “You don’t sound so sad about her.”

“Well—she’s obnoxious.”

The Physician diagnosed that ‘obnoxious’ was not the first thing Fritz would say. “Any unusual things about her before the rot happened? Change of diet? You mentioned her obsession with beauty. Perhaps—new oils?”

Milica stifled a laugh.

“Fratello, you are so cute when you’re hopeless about girls.” She turned back, saw the fire, and skittled away. “Dryads are not into cosmetics, I believe. What they’re frantic about is always soil. That’s what makes their skin polish. It smells good for the satyrs, too.”

“I never expected that vampires gossip about dryads,” Fritz said, genuinely surprised. “But, yes—they usually love soil rich with minerals. Oh, yeah, I should have realized it sooner. Soil…”

Fritz went silent. Milica deduced Fritz was thinking about a girl. The Physician failed to notice that.

“The soil, then.” The Physician shifted his weight. “Has something happened to the soil six months ago?”

“No, not that I know. They made me—” Fritz caught himself. “The dryad has this maintenance for soil and water periodically. Plucking up worms and such. I participated in their routine maintenance.”

“Did the others participate in the routine maintenance?”

“No…” Fritz then realized the Physician’s double meaning from the previous question. “I am the one who does their soil maintenance, alright? But it’s been months since I helped them. The rot began earlier! It was a daily occurrence for us. Something came by one month ago and transmitted the rot. Something external. A forager habit.”

Fritz's hazel eyes probed into the traveling duo. The Physician raised his hands, almost bored.

“I thought we were over this,” the ice-blue-haired caretaker sighed. “We were commissioned for another case until two weeks ago. By your account, the rot did not happen acutely. Something internal was already happening inside the Clearing half a month ago.”

Fritz stared hard at the Physician. “You accused me of bringing the rot. Just like them.”

“Brat—”

“I am not a brat! In your time, I’m already eighteen!” Fritz spat, producing black saliva. “But thanks to me being born a male, they always see me as cursed. They said I am the one killing that fool of a dryad! And now you humans think the same, and you’ll ask them and believe them!”

They all stared at each other; no one dared to speak.

Fritz ripped off his salve gauze. His hand looked healthier green, but his veins were still pulsing with the autumnal color of decay.

“Do not expect me to thank you.” He threw the dressing and stood up. “I will prove that I am not bringing the rot by curing it.”

The Physician stood, expecting to catch Fritz for postural hypotension, but his posture never changed. Fritz's feet grew roots, then as if the earth had swallowed him, he disappeared by melding himself to nearby trees. He disappeared.

The fire crackled down. Milica had finally gained the courage to look at her Fratello.

“That brat knows something,” she guessed from the Physician’s face. “And now we’re stuck looking for him—one tree inside a forest.”