[center][h2][b][color=#d31c0a]Deo’Irah[/color][/b][/h2][/center]

[color=#d31c0a][i]“Ah, yes, I rather had forgotten…”[/i][/color] Irah began, somewhat sheepishly, [color=#d31c0a][i]“recent events had rather overtaken me. That seems sensible to me–something has been bothering me: too many horses. I’ve not the exact numbers to hand, it looks like a proper count is being done, but it feels… off. ”[/i][/color] Irah responded to Caleb mentally, all the while surveying everything that was going on as the two squires worked on freeing the bodies from the tree and Sir Yanin and Lhirin went about searching the bodies–and counting them, more importantly. Once they’d finished and began to head back over towards the main grouping of people, Irah moved over to join them and remembered upon having Sirs Yanin and Freagon in her line of sight together that the former had wanted her to speak to the latter about something with some urgency–a thought that she kept at the forefront of her mind as she went about her other bits of business. Yanin came back and announced for everyone the exact disparity in numbers, which Irah relayed to Caleb through their telepathic link.  

[color=#d31c0a][i]“Hm, one left. With all that accumulated power I’m sure you could make a fairly convincing illusion that all is well here, and perhaps glean some information should they return? I’m afraid I have far less creativity with your power than you, but you seemed to produce a good quality of illusion earlier.”[/i][/color] Irah spoke mentally to Caleb as she did, then turned her attention to Sir Freagon once more and walked over, beckoning what was left of Kinder’s vessel too.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“Sir Yanin thought there was something urgent we should discuss…”[/b][/color] she began, expectantly waiting for Freagon to continue the conversation. She could guess that it was some sort of medical issue, by how insistent Yanin had been that it be one of the healers and the Iriao specifically, but the specifics seemed to elude her somewhat. Yanin had mentioned that time was running out, so it was something of an emergency, and there were very few things Irah could think of that would require immediate attention [i]and[/i] not be very obvious… chief among them one of the reasons she’d taken this trip to Rodoria in the first place: the Withering.

She earnestly hoped it wasn’t so, though he’d been wise to keep it quiet if it was the case. As best as the pair had been able to tell dealing with the infected on their travels here from Kirkin there was no obvious method of transmission, and none of the data she’d gathered even began to point towards any sort of pattern. Every healer and favoured one of Reina she’d spoken to along the way had offered something similar: nothing could be done, and exceedingly little could be learned about it. Kinder had concluded that it was extremely resistant to any form of magical healing or alteration of any kind, which left Irah rather stumped about it. Some mechanisms of infection were quite obvious: plenty of diseases travelled through water, or through exposure to an infected person in some capacity, and there were theories about miasma–bad air–or some other intermediary between infector and infectee… and the Withering seemed to defy explanation on every count. She did not believe someone having the Withering posed that much of a danger to anyone else, given how random it was, but that was a particularly enlightened view few others would share… and the fact that she’d exposed her raw soul to him earlier suddenly sent something of a shudder through her feathers and her spine. She bristled for a moment and ran her hands through the feathers at the back of her head, letting out a heavy sigh, and waited for Freagon’s reply. There was no use fretting if it was something else, after all.