Rood & Vash #2

A trim gentleman sat in a chair at the edge of the bed and waited patiently, holding his hat in his lap. The young man fevering under the blankets moaned and stuttered and the sweat waxed his face like moonlight. The furniture in the room was too big and crowded in on everything. The window was a square of dusty gold and let in the sound of waves.
A woman marked herself and entered, against the sickness or against the trim gentleman only she might know. When he saw her he stood and looked truly saddened, baleful eyes and downturned mouth; he knew the woman wasn't fooled, but no need to stop the dance this far into the music.
"I'm terribly sorry to put you through this," he said, holding his hat in practiced chaste, "but do you know where your son might have contracted such a dire illness?"
"Aye," the woman said, mopping the boy's brow, "I know well enough. So do you," she added.
The man circled a button on his coat, sorry to hear the music stop, "Has someone else...close to you...gone through the same malady?"
At that the woman smiled bitterly and clasped her hands, turning to face the man, "No, that wouldn't be the case. But I know you for what you are. Pelor protect us," she nodded at a symbol above the door, "but I do."
It was the man's turn to smile, "Pelor protect us."
"It won't be long now," she said, turning back to the dying boy, "I'm sorry you didn't get here in time to ask your questions."
"Yes, it is a shame. However there may be a few things you can help answer, if you're willing, that is," the man offered.
"'So damned be damned, in league with the devils...' she quoted.
The man turned and bade the woman to sit in the chair by the bed, "There. Now," he said. "I know that your son-"
"Clemmett. Clem," she said.
"-Clem. I know he was involved with the ship that was ashore in the bay, the Golden Hart. But I wager if he knew what was on that ship, he never would have gotten involved. Isn't that right?"
"He's a good boy, a fool, but a good boy. He shouldn't have been mixed up in all this. And now look."
"Yes, it is a shame," the man said in practiced Common, "Do you know what he thought was on the Hart?"
"No, Pelor protect, he wouldn't have told me anything like that. He knows I would have nothing of it!" she said, leaning over to adjust the blankets, twisted as they were.
"Why do you think he was even brought on?" the man asked, trying what he thought was a gentle smile.
"It is what I thought, isn't it? It's fairy fever he has?"
The man nodded slowly.
"Then I would say it's because he can play the fey harp, now wouldn't you?" she said, looking up at him.
"And Rood knew that?"
"Rood?" she said, not understanding.
"The half-elf? Is that what he wanted Clem for?"
Pride straightened her back, "Haylochs don't take with no half-elves, I'll tell you that true!"
The man's brow furrowed, "But it was Rood the half-elf that got your boy involved in all this, it was all his doing."
"No," the woman said, "it was Vash."