Early the next morning, Stathis set out for the temple, Janaxia tagging along, wearing (for her) relatively sensible and normal clothing, although still with a few cut-outs, baring her shoulders and arms. The city was definitely going to crap – curfew was one thing, but having to dodge around checkpoints was a nuisance. The guards were none-too-gentle in their harassment of the commoners, petty violence seemingly normal. The bracelets were ubiquitous, those without them getting hauled in and having them tied around their wrists. Stathis looked at her own, twisting it around – it didn’t seem to do anything bad, but then again, she had severed hers last night, which might have disrupted anything it did. Something for Hakara to look into – Stathis couldn’t sense anything too bad about it personally, although that might just be Janaxia clouding her senses, but if it was just normal bad stuff, not involving demons or something, then she wouldn’t be able to tell.

She ducked into an alleyway as several guards ran past, armour clanking. They had decent gear as well – the Duke could spare some money for them, it seemed, even if the rest of the city was sliding into crap. Having to sneak through alleyways and glare at assorted beggars and vagabonds was time-consuming, even with the spires of the temple visible above her. Having Janaxia with her didn’t help either, even her more restrained appearance drawing attention. Although the off-the-shoulder look was less evil-sorcerer-aristocrat than her standard, and better suited to exploring the area. She’d even gone for sensible shoes and a skirt of fairly plain material, although the golden embroidery was a bit much.

Her wounds were aching again, the rough bed having done little to help – it was a step up from the ground, but not much of one. And Janaxia had spent most of the night cleaning, fervent in her desire to not sleep in a despoiled bed. At least Brina was around, so there was someone she could rely on, even if it meant that everything would get reported back to her mother.

A young child, skin poxed and scabbed, mutely held their hands out to beg. Janaxia started to shoo them away, as Stathis glanced around, squatting next to the child, holding out a gold coin. Janaxia looked away in disgust, giving Stathis the chance to use a touch of her power, sending healing energy into them. The marks of their illness faded, a few genuine pox-marks vanishing, leaving only those that were fake, something spread onto their skin to make them look even more sick.

They stared at her, looking confused and awkward. ‘Go get some food or something.’ She handed over another coin then rose, glancing around nervously, in case anyone had seen. She felt a grab on her sleeve, as the urchin reached out.

‘Thanks!’ The child coughed, drawing closer, staring at her with large, grimy eyes. ‘Wanna buy some blissleaf? Dawnblush? Or lookin’ for more company, for you and your trug?’

‘No, no drugs. Or company. And please spend that on food, not anything else. But I want to know about the bracelets.’ Stathis watched as they bit the coin, testing it for purity, then hid it somewhere. It was probably more than they would have earnt in several months of begging and whatever other business they were engaged with, but was enough to keep them here, as they held up their wrist, red band looped around, bright despite the omnipresent grime.

‘Damn guard slapped it on me.’ They played with it, flicking their wrist to shift it up and down. ‘Can’t get the thing off, Smiler Davek tried burning it off, just got scars for that. And there’s the black wagons to worry about, picking people off the streets and vanishing them off.’

‘Any idea where they might be going? Or who they’re taking?’

‘Bums, scrags, trugs. Bet they’d avoid the likes of you and your piece, she’s fancy. Can I see your sword?’

‘No. But if you want some more coin, speak to your friends, find out everything you can about them, and I’ll pay. But I will know if you’re lying, so spare me the bullshit and lies please.’

’20 gold. I’ll see you at the Blind Bishop in 3 bells. Anything dodgy, and I’ll raise hell.’

‘Bring me enough information, and I’ll make it worth your while. But remember, no lies, get it?’

They spat into their hand, holding out it to shake, making Stathis wish she was wearing her gauntlets as they shook hands, Janaxia looking on in disgust. ‘This better not be a pervy thing, or I’ll set the gang on you!’

‘Just get me information, and I’ll pay you, OK? And no drugs, no prostitutes, just information.’

‘Hey, it’s your loss. Got some good stuff in, Sethan cut.’

Stathis ignored them and left, keeping one hand on her pouch, just in case someone tried to pickpocket it. Janaxia grimaced. ‘It would have been simpler to just compel an answer. Giving money to such people only encourages them.’

‘Please don’t use that iron-crown thing on kids, it’s pretty creepy. It’s a lot easier this way. Plus it means I’ll get information on anything they find, rather than just anything I think to ask about. Having people want to do things is better than compulsion.’ Their way was blocked by a wide puddle, Stathis leaping over, then reaching back and putting her hands around Janaxia’s waist and lifting her across. The alleyways and roads were hard to tell apart, everything equally cramped and ill-maintained, the reek of a tannery filling the air, the loud sounds of work almost enough to drown out the bells pealing from the temple.

Eventually, they managed to find their way through, stumbling from a dark and narrow tunnel into a graveyard without any boundary, just suddenly surrounded by memorials markers and statues. Trying to show respect to the dead, Stathis walked around the edge until she found the path, the temple looming above her. Painted gods and heroes looked down at her, most in poses of action and violence, some even with real weapons held in stone hands, metal catching the sunlight. But even here, the neglect was obvious, the temple walls dirty, even the bits that could be reached from the ground.

She entered, the cavernous internal space arcing high above her, statues of divine servitors studding the ceiling, a choir singing hymns, echoing around in a rather pretty melody. There didn’t seem to be anyone in change, so Stathis headed towards the central altar, where statues of the gods stared down on offerings and worshippers. Some of them were even decent likenesses, although the twin gods of luck were shown a lot fatter than they truly were. Janaxia made the appropriate sacred gestures, a polite gesture towards the gods, Stathis following along a moment later, remembering her manners.

An acolyte was scrubbing down the altar, perfumed incense wafting from a nearby censor, too busy working to notice Stathis. ‘Hey, who’s in charge here? I need healing.’

They answered without looking up. ‘High Priest Ophalish is otherwise engaged and is not available for such trivialities.’

Stathis reached into her pouch and pulled out a golden coin, part of the treasure reclaimed from Ashfall, and tossed it onto the altar. ‘I’m sure I can make it worth their while. This place looks like it could do with the money, and I had a run-in with a banshee, so I need a high priest to try and heal me. Reckon you can sort something out? If you let me know where Ophalish is, I can do the rest.’

The acolyte grabbed the coin, looking around nervously. ‘They’re probably in the sanctum. But they are busy with a powerful ritual, and have requested not to be interrupted.’

There was a groan from behind Stathis, who turned to see Janaxia, now pale and swaying on her feet. She raised a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead.

‘I feel a touch faint, it must be the exertions of yesterday catching up with me.’ She took a deep breath, although looked a touch feverish still, eyes not quite focused.

‘You doing OK? How much did you drink last night?’

‘Very little, that it recall. Although it was rather strong, and not a particularly good vintage. While I am willing to sleep in such a place, there are certain standards that must be met, rather than in a bed soiled by countless indiscretions.’ As she talked, her pupils grew larger, a feverish sweat starting to bead on her brow. ‘Although it is a rather fetching property, once cleansed to…’

She trailed off, swaying slightly. Stathis waved a hand in front of her eyes, without eliciting any response. ‘Janaxia, are you feeling OK? You seem a bit out of it.’ Janaxia slumped forward, Stathis catching her she cracked her skull on the altar. She was burning up, skin fever-hot as she mumbled something back. ‘Janaxia! Stay awake!’

The priest was drawing back, no doubt worried about plague, already covering his mouth with his sleeve as Stathis held Janaxia up. He pointed towards an exit, statues of saints on their knees in prayer. Stathis managed to rearrange Janaxia, carrying her in her arms, thankful that at least she was light, and not wearing inflexible armour. She was hot to the touch, her flesh shiny, almost glowing, as Stathis carried her into the chapel of healing

The chamber was light and warm, a soft aura of healing suffusing the air. Prayers and chants could be heard, acolytes of healing deities tending to their parishioners. One approached, ushering Stathis towards a side chamber where she could deposit Janaxia onto a bed. In her fever, Janaxia held close on, now filled with a strength that was utterly absent when it came to combat. Stathis eventually managed to detach her through brute force, pulling her arms off and stepping away before she could get grabbed again, as Janaxia’s arms flailed around, legs kicking against the mattress.

‘She just started burning up, I’ve no idea why. She was fine before then.’

The priestess checked Janaxia, feeling her forehead, peeling her eyes open. ‘She’s running quite a fever.’ Janaxia was writhing slightly, eyes fluttering. ‘Been in any old tombs or ruins? And your name?’

‘I’m Stathis. I’m a Knight of the Sun.’ It might help get better treatment, maybe. Or a discount. ‘And yeah, but that was a few weeks back. And it was an Elven ruin, they’re normally clean. Some undead, but she didn’t take many injuries from them, and we cleaned the wounds out afterwards. No signs of infection or anything.’

Janaxia’s writhing grew worse, as the priestess pressed her down, her blouse slipping to reveal a shoulder. ‘What caused this?’ She pointed at a silver-tinted mark on Janaxia’s shoulder, surrounded by pale-coloured veins, as though light was pulsing just beneath her skin. ‘I’ve seen people with Blackrot, eating them away from the inside out after being wounded by undead, but that doesn’t glow.’ She pressed fingers against it, prompting another spasm from Janaxia, and a gurgled whimper of pain. ‘She’s an adventurer? Eaten anything strange, found any cursed items, I’m sure you know the list.’

‘Don’t think so. Elven rations, quite a lot of booze. She was working last night and had a few drinks, but that’s about it.’ Stathis cast an eye over Janaxia’s body, checking for any new jewellery or other adornments that might actually be cursed items, but couldn’t see anything – she was wearing an ear cuff and a pair of earrings, and a few bracelets, but all were ones Stathis recognised. For all that she changed her clothing whenever possible, her jewellery tended to be fairly static. Mercifully, her tattoo was quiescent at the moment, dull black and not moving. ‘I don’t think she’s stupid enough to pick up anything like that.’

The priestess went to a cabinet, pulling out a vial. ‘That’s what everyone says, up until they find something that looks valuable enough.’ She rubbed her fingers together. ‘If you’ve hit up an elven ruin, you can spare the coin, but this stuff doesn’t come cheap. It’s for a good cause.’

‘What’s the damage? And what is it?’

‘Two thousand. It’s made from the tears of a lesser deity, it should cure whatever is wrong with her.’

Stathis winced. ‘Anything cheaper? That’s quite a lot, and I don’t think she’s that badly off at the moment.’

Janaxia’s writhing worsened, sweat now running along her skin, marring her makeup, Stathis pushing her back onto the bed before she fell to the floor.

‘It is for the good of the church, and covers the work we do for those that cannot afford us. And are you not concerned for your friend?’

‘I am, but two thousand gold is a lot. Can you try a quarter-dose or something?’ She leant over, holding Janaxia down. ‘I’ve not got that much on me, either.’

‘Oh, we can arrange credit. But it needs to be delivered as a dose, the amount is such that it cannot be diluted.’ Janaxia was even hotter than before, her clothing soaked and clinging with sweat, veins glowing with a chill silvery light, like that shed by the unicorn’s horn. ‘This temple is sanctified, to the holiest and highest of the gods. No evil can persist within its holy and blessed walls.’

Shit. That was probably it. Clammy arms suddenly wrapped around her as Janaxia’s flailing found a target and grabbed on tight, her breath coming in short, urgent pants and gasps as unseeing eyes stared into nothingness. ‘Thank you, priestess, but I think she’ll be fine, she just dislikes, um, closed-in spaces.’ She managed to stand up, Janaxia clinging on tightly.

The priestess was looking at her doubtfully. ‘That reaction seems quite extreme, I really don’t recommend removing her from care. Especially if it was sudden, that suggests something potent. Blackrot strikes fast, but there are many other diseases in the depths that can take longer to show, and I’ve never heard of anything like this. I really would recommend a specialist take a look at her.’

‘It’s really quite fine, thank you, I’ll see myself out!’ Stathis gabbled the words out, walking as fast as she can, Janaxia holding tight against her, eyes rolled back in her head, body burning up. Stathis tried to ignore the looks she was getting, but mercifully no-one shouted any objections. Outside, she moved as quickly as she could, hoping not to look like a kidnapper, leaving the temple grounds at a jog, Janaxia clinging tightly onto her back.

This side of the temple was closer to what Stathis expected, an open square, ringed with inns, a few traders about their business. There was a sign portraying a bishop, eyes closed and with a staff probing ahead. She went inside, awkwardly fumbling out a coin and passing it over to the bemused-looking innkeep, taking the key as she threw Janaxia over her shoulder, heading in the direction she’d been pointed. Janaxia was still feverish as she writhed on her shoulder, dribbling faintly as she groaned and writhed.

Stathis opened the room she’d rented, dumping Janaxia onto the bed before checking her over. The strange gleaming sheen was still there, veins around where the unicorn had stabbed her shining most brightly. Stathis had heard of Blackrot, where wounds from undead corrupted the body, black veins tracing their way through the victim, eating away at their body and soul, the body turning to ash and mould. Except Janaxia seemed to have an infection of light from being wounded by a unicorn, exacerbated by exposure to holy ground.

Janaxia spasmed and writhed, almost falling off the bed, until Stathis stripped the sheets off, wrapping them around Janaxia’s wrists and then around the bedframe, doing the same with her ankles, hopefully keeping her from falling off the narrow bed onto the floor. She moaned, jaw spasming as her head lolled, Stathis quickly taking her belt off and jamming it into Janaxia’s mouth, to stop her biting her own tongue off, strapping it tightly. Stathis sighed. Who the hell got corrupted by good?

She reached out and carefully touched Janaxia, hoping to be soothing. She channelled just a touch of energy, a golden light spilling from her hand. The soothing warmth was snatched away, Janaxia letting out a tortured, gurgling moan through the gag, her tattoo careening into sight for a moment before spinning off beneath her clothing, moving in crazed circles, like a pained animal, although it avoided the wound from the unicorn whenever it peeked into sight. The scar from the unicorn was now visible as a pale circle, surrounded by the jagged lines of silver-lit veins.

As her sweaty writhing continued, Stathis kept an eye on Janaxia, making sure she didn’t manage to slip out of the bindings, or unconsciously summon a ravaging demon lord. What the hell was she? She wasn’t, despite her seething aura of doom, actually that evil, and it was probably a good thing that she was on the outs with her family, but she definitely wasn’t, well, normal, even by the standards of strange not-really-wizards. A fleck of something black drifted into the air, like a giant mote of ash – as Stathis watched Janaxia, she saw motes of material evaporating away from Janaxia’s body, the fashionable clothing fading and changing back to a plain linen shift, sweat sticking it to every curve, the fever and the bindings stretching her body taut. Shit. She’d give her some time to see if Janaxia recovered, otherwise she’d need to contact the others and arrange something; she wasn’t carrying a naked, feverish Janaxia through the streets by herself!