The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 190: The Hunt for a Cure

Dragons and their arrogance! Flicker fumed as he soared back up to Heaven. Little Densissimus Imber had been fine when he was just one of the youngest dragon kings, the tips of whose horns had just barely forked, but now that he'd gained a little power and a little influence on Earth, he was acting as if he controlled the Four Seas. If he were really that powerful and that influential, he could come up to Heaven and look for a cure himself.

Still, Flicker had promised, and truth be told, he was worried about the mage as well. He made sure to finish his work a little early so he could leave work on time, and then he hung around the back entrance to the Bureau of Human Lives waiting for Shimmer.

He waited. And waited. And waited. The Moon was halfway across the sky when he spotted the head clerk exiting the building.

"Head Clerk!" Flicker called, hurrying to intercept him. "Good night, Head Clerk. Might I have a moment of your time?"

"Of course," Shimmer replied, looking as tidy and tireless as if he were about to start his workday after a good night's rest. "Flicker, was it? What can I do for you?"

"Might we talk while we walk?"

Flicker didn't want to have this conversation anywhere near the Commissioners of Pestilence. Or the Goddess of Life. Not that he really believed they'd stay so late at the office, but it never hurt to be careful.

In between reincarnating souls, Flicker had examined and re-examined all possible angles for approaching Shimmer and concluded that the direct one was best. As the two star sprites strolled along a canal, he broached the issue of the North Serican plague.

"I was wondering if there is any medicine for the Black Death? I know how it begins, how it spreads, and how it ends, but how is it cured?"

The Black Death began when the Commissioners of Pestilence unleashed it on Earth, it spread through the bites of fleas carried by animals such as rats (including Piri), and it ended when the Commissioners decided that the humans had been punished enough. Flicker had never heard of a cure, so he wasn't surprised when Shimmer shook his head.

"There is no medicine that I am aware of. Humans who survive it appear to gain immunity against it, but that is the closest thing to a cure that I know of."

Even though it was the answer Flicker expected, it still made his starlight waver. "Then, if someone has already caught it...."

"Then all you can do is wait to see whether they survive it on their own."

"Is there nothing that can be done? Nothing at all? The Bureau of Human Lives is so powerful – surely there must be something – "

Shimmer was shaking his head again, even before Flicker could finish the thought. "I'm afraid not. You might try the Bureau of Academia archives, but I would be surprised if you found anything."

So would Flicker. Still, he recalled Floridiana's unfocused eyes and fever-flushed face, the reddish-black rash that mottled her skin and the tumors that erupted from her flesh. She was not recovering from the Black Death at all. And they'd told him that the condition of the Flying Fish Village boy was even worse.

"I'll try the archives," Flicker told Shimmer. "Thank you for your advice."

The Bureau of Academia had long since closed for the day, but for a small "gift" (a token that could be exchanged for a cup of starlight tea), a janitor unbarred the gates and let Flicker in. The imp even led him to the archives, although she couldn't explain how it was organized.