“Daughter, what are you doing here? I specifically asked you not to come.”

  The count is seated in his study, behind a solid wood desk with hunting details carved into the legs and edges. On it there’s a bottle of some strong liquor and a glass more empty than full.

  It’s clear they’re serious about drinking alcohol if they can’t drink water...

  At least he doesn’t seem drunk like the villager from the square.

  “My apologies, father, but I can help.”

  “You’re leaving right now.”

  Uh, that’s a direct order.

  “The queen thought it was fine for me to come. They let me use the palace portal.”

  “Which still doesn’t explain how you got here so soon...” He runs a hand through his grayish beard, stroking it.

  “If the queen approves of you coming…” he ends up saying after a few minutes of thoughtful silence. “You’re going to marry her son. She won’t want you to die so, if she’s let you come, there must be a powerful reason behind it.”

  During the journey, I’ve been thinking about whether to tell them about the light magic. I decided it’s better not to because, if I dedicate myself to healing openly, everyone will know and, though it’s frustrating in a dungeon with all my friends, it’s most useful for not attracting unwanted attention. Besides, I can only use two healings every twenty-four hours, so I wasn’t going to be able to do that much anyway. And I don’t even have it at a high enough level for it to be area-of-effect.

  I’ll use them in secret on whoever I see in the worst condition, starting with my mother and brothers.

  “You see, I have knowledge that can help. For example, if we boil the water we’ll be able to drink it without needing a mage with light affinity to purify it.”

  “The folk healer hasn’t told us anything about that.” He frowns. “And we already boil water to make broths, and we even water down the beer. That helps, but it doesn’t end the vomiting and fever.”

  Oh, do I have to recall more of my Earth knowledge? I wasn’t any survival expert and if I went on a trip I bought bottled water.

  Hmm... of course, maybe it’s one thing to boil rainwater or water from a stream that seems clean and another thing entirely to boil water from a well with putrid corpses. If I remember correctly, boiling kills bacteria. But there’ll still be corpse remains and toxins... What if they filter it? With cloths and with crushed charcoal. I think I remember charcoal helped.

  “Father, trust me. It’s obvious I wouldn’t do anything that could harm my family’s health. Do you have charcoal?”

  “Some.” He looks at me strangely.

  I explain how to improvise some filters. Since it’s not raining and therefore we can’t collect that water, they should boil the well water, filter it, and boil it again. At least we’ll have improved it somewhat. And if necessary mix it with some beer and give them that to drink until the royal healer arrives. I don’t know any purification spells; only a minor dispel one, and I don’t think it will work. I’ll try it later.

  I also ask him to warn the people in the town since it seems that just boiling isn’t enough. Especially to let the man from the square know. Let’s hope his family doesn’t get worse because of me...

  “Very well,” he nods, not very convinced, “I’ll have them do it.”

  “Are you trying to dig another well?”

  Here, I could offer to help with my earth magic. Honestly, I have no idea what kind of magic the count possesses. If it’s earth, he could do it himself.

  In this world, where children born with magical affinity almost never appear outside the nobility, there usually aren’t mages you can hire for something as down-to-earth as digging a well or filling a pool with water. I vaguely remember our earth magic professor mentioning a couple of barons who specialize in large engineering projects and work proudly under the Crown. They’re the exception that proves the rule. Naturally, they only work for the kingdom’s monarchs.

  “Yes. Also, when I sent you the bird, I dispatched another to the duke to inform him and ask for help. Since we just realized it might be a curse on the well, I hope that within a couple of days a cart with water will arrive.”

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  “Great. Maybe I’ll send a bird to Mary to come. She’s a friend from the academy.”

  “The girl with high light affinity you introduced us to?” His face lights up.

  I sigh. Oh, the faith he has in my methods… Yeah, right. Well, it’s his culture, so it is what it is.

  “Yes. Besides, the king and queen were going to send the royal healer. Don’t worry.”

  The truth is I don’t know what light affinity he has, maybe medium. But yes, if he’s the light mage from the palace, he undoubtedly has his spell masteries very high.

  Both he and Mary can gather the sick in a room and cast an area-of-effect healing.

  “And if you want, I can tell Ronan’s deer to go to the duchy with one of your men. It’s a bit uncomfortable to ride, but it doesn’t get tired, and we got here from there in about four hours. Ronan ordered it to obey me, so if I tell it to take one of your soldiers there and to at least follow his instructions for the journey, I think it’ll work.”

  We could also send it alone, without a rider, but then it might be attacked. Better to have someone wearing my father’s colors.

  “It’s a great idea, thank you.”

  Good, I’m glad he accepts it. I don’t know him well and I know that, despite there being many nobles with dark magic, necromancers are usually looked down on. I don’t know if it’s because they raise the dead or out of envy anymore.

  “How are mother and my brothers? Can I see them?” I ask him.

  “Your older brother has abdominal pain and a mild fever. He doesn’t want to stay in bed but the folk healer ordered him to. Your mother and younger brother have vomiting, diarrhea, and high fever. They’re in bed. The folk healer has done what he could, but we don’t have water that isn’t cursed. We’re giving them broths. Several small children and elderly have died.”

  A broth has to prevent them from dehydrating only if it doesn’t cause them more vomiting or diarrhea because they haven’t managed to completely clean what’s in that water.

  I imagine the first few days, where they’d only notice a weird taste, it would work. After that, no longer.

  As soon as everyone is cured or improving, I’ll get on with investigating who did this, how, and why.

  “Can I see them?”

  “The healer says it’s contagious. I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

  “Father, please,” I ask him. “My constitution is very high, you can’t even imagine how much. It’s gone up from that initial value of six to eighteen.”

  He thinks about it for a while.

  “Alright. I don’t think you can help them and they’re not in a state where they need to say goodbye either, but go if you want. With that constitution value you should be fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hold back the impulse to kiss his cheek. He’s not my real father and I don’t know what the real Bianca would have done. I turn to leave the study.

  The count calls his valet to accompany me. Something I appreciate, since it would be very strange for me not to know where my mother’s chambers are.

  I follow him, advancing through the long hallways where this body feels comfortable, at home. Floor candelabras with candles and the occasional oil lamp illuminate them. I don’t notice the tapestries or paintings, since I feel anguish as I get closer. It smells of wax, yes, but also of something sour that’s getting stronger. We only pass one servant walking with his head down, who greets us without looking me in the eye. He seems scared. And the others? These hallways used to bustle with servant activity. Possibly they’re sick.

  Upon reaching the door to the countess’s chambers, the silence seems to change: it becomes more oppressive.

  The valet pushes the door and I’m greeted, first, by heat. I see they’ve closed the windows and hung thick tapestries in front. I imagine it’s the folk healer’s doing. The result is a heavy, almost humid atmosphere where it’s hard to breathe and it smells of sickness.

  It’s a characteristic smell I don’t like at all.

  I hear the door close behind me. The valet, I imagine, will return to my father. There’s a maid changing a damp cloth from the countess’s forehead. She lies in the great bed in the center of the room, with the canopy drawn back. She doesn’t look much like the proud noblewoman I’ve known in the months I’ve been in this world.

  As I approach, I see her skin, once cared for, is ashen and tight over her cheekbones. Sweat soaks her hair, sticking it to her neck. Her lips are dry, cracked, and yet she murmurs incoherent words, among which I can hear the name of her youngest son—even mine.

  This body doesn’t like this at all.

  The maid tries to prevent me from getting closer, so I don’t get infected. I inform her my father allowed me to enter and ask her to leave the room, to wait outside.

  Besides, aren’t we talking about bad water? Does that generate something contagious?

  She doesn’t seem very convinced, yet has no choice except to obey me.

  I move closer to the countess.

  My chest tightens seeing her, even though she’s not my real mother, but for this body she is.

  Each breath she emits is a visible effort: her chest rises too quickly, then stops for a few moments before falling again. High fever. Dehydration. My nose saturated with that sour smell that here is stronger. It mixes with perfumes in a vain attempt to hide it.

  And it’s not just her, because on one side of the bed, on an improvised mattress, is my little brother, in a similar or worse state than my mother. He doesn’t seem to have the strength even to murmur fever delirium. His skin is very hot to the touch. They’ve moistened his lips with a cloth but his tongue remains dry and whitish.

  A bowl with broth, cold, rests untouched on a nearby small table. Well, maybe it’s better they haven’t gotten him to drink it. The one closer to my mother is half-empty, with a used spoon beside it, on a cotton napkin with the county house’s seal embroidered in thread.

  Good. Two spells every twenty-four hours, right?

  Let’s do this.

  But first, in case they wake up and I can’t do it anymore, I try casting lesser dispel on the broths. It seems I can only select one as a target, so my brother’s bowl, which is full. I know it can only remove minor poisons and soften the effect of a low-level poison, but if what was in the well were a minor poison, with this spell and meditating I could heal everyone myself.

  I cast it. A soft white light illuminates the bowl’s contents and, after a few seconds, fades. I don’t need to taste the broth to know it didn’t work. Somehow, I know my spell had no effect.

  Well, it’s not like I expected anything else. It was just worth trying.

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