They returned to Silvershade just before sundown. The air hung cold and heavy with an oppressive sort of silence. In all the time they'd been away, nothing about the slumbering village had changed; the swaying trees, the flapping buntings, the bright, rolling rooftops – all now slowly fading into shades of gray as the daylight drained away.
The unnatural silence was even more glaring now, after having walked the vibrant and lively streets of Willowshade.
Sir Veylor was awaiting them at his cabin by the village entrance. The last light of twilight fell upon his haggard face, the angle exaggerating his eyebags and worry lines, and making him seem all the more fatigued.
'You've returned. You found what you needed, I hope?' he asked, voice thin.
Arin pursed his lips and looked off to one side. Siel, however, gave the man his brightest smile.
'We did! We've found quite a bit of information!' he exclaimed.
Liar. They hadn't.
They had found very little beyond what they'd already learned of Silvershade and the head family's circumstances from Sir Veylor and the village records.
Visiting the old maid had pretty much been a waste of their time. After about a single fruitless hour of digging, the two of them had left her secluded home to instead visit Willowshade's recordkeepers, a member of their healers' association, and one of the head tradesmen.
Even still, they didn't manage to learn much.
" 'There have been no such occurrences at any point in our history. No curses. No diseases. The closest event that we know of was from about two hundred years ago, when an angered beast-bonder with a partiality to insects ruined all of Silvershade's crops. Even then, the people didn't starve. Our region has a long, well-established history of trade, you see…'
'Healing talent that can nourish and keep alive a body failing from incessant, unending thirst and starvation is rather rare outside of the main cities. Young lady Ila is our only healer who can repair the unseen – such as failing organs and spoiling blood. She toiled to help all those villagers for over a month, but now, even her talent falls short of the strength that is required. They have been slumbering for too long, and their bodies have already suffered too much. Even if those poor souls were to awaken now, I worry that many may not survive the ordeal.'
'No cursed artefacts! We don't deal in such things, you hear? There are good men and women living there, whom I know by name, and they'd never bring such a thing into their homes. Once they're all saved, I can help the village bounce back up, but for now, it is your job to do something, and not slander us innocent folks with talks of cursed tools and whatnot!' "
…yeah. Total flop.
Well, Arin understood why Siel was lying to Sir Veylor. That man was physically and mentally exhausted; he needed hope. Any hint of bad news might result in him collapsing right where he stood.
Yeah, it probably wouldn't feel great if he somehow became the fourth fatal casualty before their very eyes. Good job, kid!
Sir Veylor's lips were stretched in what was probably a valiant attempt at returning Siel's smile. 'Will the two of you be leaving with me for the night?' he asked.
'Oh, no. We have work to do here, after all,' said Siel.
'But sirs, people are lost to this sleep at night. If you stay…'
'I assure you; we shall be fine. Dealing with this is our responsibility. You must trust us, Sir Veylor.'
The man nodded. He didn't push any more. Arin knew that he was holding on to the hope that they – the so-called 'tower magicians' – might truly be worth their salt, and that he would return the following morning to matters resolved.
Same here, my guy.
Soon, Sir Veylor left Silvershade. He spent his nights at Willowshade, and would leave every morning before dawn to return to his dying hometown. Arin's eyes followed his lone back as he trudged away into the distance.
'Well, senior brother! Let us get to work!'
???
Arin turned to look down at the wide-eyed boy.
Uh…
'What do you plan to do first?' he asked dispassionately.
*
They spent the rest of the evening testing what they could.
When they'd been taken around to a few houses earlier in the day, Arin had noticed that they didn't have locks. Sir Veylor had also asked them to freely enter any residence, and examine any villager, so long as they believed their actions would lead to finding a solution.
'No one would mind,' he'd reassured them. 'Not as long as everyone can be saved.'
First was a simple resonance check. Siel brought out a tool – a small square of what looked like card paper – and activated it to cast a gentle blue light over the sleepers' bodies. The light flickered for only a few moments before disappearing.
This was repeated within a few houses chosen at random.
'Hmm,' Siel tapped his chin thoughtfully. 'We can now be sure that these poor villagers are asleep under the influence of some external power. Be it a talent, or a tool, or something else entirely. Their sleep is not caused by something within their own bodies, or any illness, but an external force that affects them all. Oh – '
He turned to look at Arin sheepishly. 'My apologies, brother. I tend to think out loud, if only to state the obvious.'
'I do not mind if it helps you to think.' Arin responded with a small smile.
In other words, never change, kid. Talk more. Explain everything. Please, and thanks!
Siel grinned.
Next, they used a containment tool – a simple-looking chalk-like thing – to draw a circle around one of the houses. 'If the force is more physical in nature, this may help us contain it outside of this circle. And if so, the people in this house might presently show signs of improvement,' Siel had said.
It was in vain. The slumbering villagers within the chosen house remained withered and heaving for breath, lost to the world.
Finally, Siel turned to Arin.
'Well, senior brother Rin, what do you propose we do next?' he asked, blinking his large eyes innocently.
...
Damn it.
Uh…
'Use… use your talent,' he said finally, gazing into the distance.
The boy's eyes widened to an almost unnatural degree. Whipping around, he took in the darkened sky. He gasped.
'I hadn't realized it was this late already. I shouldn't have wasted all that time playing around with my tools!'
Turning back to look at Arin, the boy glanced up at him guiltily. 'I haven't had too many chances to do so in the past, and you have been indulging my whims all day... I'm sorry, brother. It really is high time that we start getting serious.'
He kicked at the chalk marks on the ground, erasing them somewhat.
'Let us go back in,' he said.
Arin followed the boy into a small room filled with the sounds of labored breathing. A man lay in bed, features painfully thin and drawn. Siel walked up to him, then slowly, knelt by his bedside.
Taking off the gloves he wore, he placed his hands on the sleeping man's papery forehead. Slowly, he shut his own, large eyes.
Arin watched quietly, from a few feet away.
One subset of talents in this world was that of knowledge magic. It covered a wide array of powers, ranging from things like prophesizing and clairvoyance, to truth-detection, and...
Tracking.
Siel was tracking the source of the strange sleep.