Book 5: Chapter 57: Plague Village
It didnt take Sen very long to realize that hed been mistaken. There were more dead than dying in the village. He just hadnt recognized the signs. His spiritual sense was attuned to find life and qi. Dead bodies rarely had either. Still, he kept walking. No one else was going to help those people. Even if theyd sent for a doctor, there was little chance of one arriving before everyone was dead. If a mortal doctor came, it was unlikely that they could have done anything for what few villagers remained. Even with his alchemical training, Sen wasnt sure that he could do anything for them either. The people he could sense were already terribly weak, their lives teetering on the brink. Still, it was possible. Maybe. If he was skilled enough, he might be able to save some of them.
While Orchards Reach had never had a true plague, winter had been a terrible time for those on the streets. It had been terrible even for those like Grandmother Lu who could afford some meager shelter. There was never enough food to go around. While Sen hadnt understood why certain kinds of food were good for people back then, he had understood that not getting enough to eat seemed to make people weak and more likely to get sick. And people did get sick. Entire families would die each winter, and the town guard would clear away their bodies. The guards would grant them the courtesy of a funeral pyre, usually, but Sen had always thought that giving them that wood to stay warm before they died would have been more useful. Those annual deaths had been another reason that Sen didnt try to make friends. There was no way to know if any particular person, himself included, would still be alive in the spring. Why befriend people you might have to mourn after a season or two?
As if the thought of funeral pyres had conjured one, Sen saw an old man standing by a pile of wood. The shrouded figure on top of the pyre was small, too small. Sen closed his eyes for a moment, then forced a look of calm onto his face. He walked over and stood next to the man. The ground there had been scorched recently and, unless Sen missed his guess, often in recent days. The smell of charred wood and the vaguer smell of scorched flesh assaulted Sens nose and it took a supreme act of will to do what he set out to do and not simply flee that odor. The old man stood there with a torch in hand, trembling, unshed tears in his eyes. Sen reached out and wrapped his own hand around the torch, but he didnt take it. He looked at the old man.
I will do this thing, grandfather, if you wish it, said Sen.
The old man looked at Sen without really seeing him. Sen didnt know what the man was seeing, although he could guess. Memories of that tiny body on the pyre, back when it was filled with life and laughter. The old man nodded and his grip slipped away from the torch. Sen rested a hand on the mans shoulder for a moment. Then, mustering what dignity and reverence he could, he slowly lowered the torch to the pyre. The wood had been doused with something and caught swiftly. Sen walked back over to the old man, who had tears streaming down his face as he watched the pyre burn.
She was still healthy for so long, said the man. I thought shed make it. I thought shed live. Why have the heavens done this to us?
I dont know, grandfather.
Please, I, the mans voice choked off.
Do you want to be alone?
The old man nodded, his eyes never leaving the pyre. Sen gave the man a bow and walked back to the road. The stranger was standing there, a complicated look on his face. Sens voice was deceptively calm when he spoke.
Would you like to say something to me about your honor now?
The stranger stared at the grief-ravaged old man and the pyre. No. No, I would not.
Sen considered his words with care before he spoke. You probably think those people should be grateful, right?
They should be. You saved them. Offered comfort to those you couldnt save.
They may be grateful for that, someday, said Sen, but right now they hate me. They likely hate you as well.
Why?
Many reasons. They hate us both for being cultivators who could so casually ignore the threat of the illness. They hate me for not coming sooner. If I had arrived a week earlier, I might have saved most of the village. At least, they think so. The three I healed hate me for sparing them from death. They think that death would be preferable to living on. They believe I stole something from them.
What?
The chance to reincarnate with their loved ones. They may be right to hate me for that. Letting them die might have been a deeper kindness.
If thats true, why did you save them?
Because I could. Because Im not a god. I dont know their fate or their karma. They might have things left to do in this life. I did it because no one else would have even tried, said Sen, stopping and turning to look at Kong Zi Han. Mostly, I did it because those people felt abandoned by the heavens. There is nothing worse than feeling abandoned when death looms. So, answer me this. Can you tell me honestly that your master will suffer as those people suffered if I dont come? Will your master feel as though the heavens have turned their eyes away? If you can, I will listen.
Kong Zi Han looked back toward what had once been a village and now stood only as a cold monument of death.
No, he said. I cannot say that.
Then, return to your master or leave them behind to find another path, but this is where we part ways.
Turning from the man, Sen walked away, his head down and shoulders sagging beneath a weight he didnt know how to bear.
