"Yeah, no, that wouldn't improve matters, travel's rough and breaking quarantine is unwise."

Hug. "So we stay here. We should sleep. Figure out what to do tomorrow when we see how it goes." 

"Yeah." She curls up against him.

He holds her tightly as they both fall asleep. 

:Night: Amshalan sends, sleepily, from the stables with the other Companions (who, fortunately, are not susceptible to human flus.) :Sleep well: 

She does not sleep well, though, because sometime after midnight Gemma's mindvoice wakes her from a sound sleep. :Belrun? I could use some help over here: 

:- what's the matter -:

:Lord Lathan is in pretty bad shape. And Lord Leverance's wife just ran over here to inform me he seems worryingly sick, apparently too sick to leave his room, and I can't leave Lathan to go check on him, and there's only one of me: 

:Amshalan, wake up - can you tell Leareth where I am if he wakes up and panics, I'm going to go do a bit more Healing work -: She gets out of bed, steps into her shoes.

:I will. And I'll wake him if you decide he should Gate in more Healers to help you out - what's happening, I assume it's bad since you're waking me up in the middle of the night: 

:Gemma's alone on night shift and needs coverage, Lathan and Leverance are both sick and in separate locations:

:Goodness. Well, I hope you get on top of it. And I'm here if you need anything: 

Amshalan, if Belrun lets her, will ride along observing through Belrun's senses. 

Belrun lets her. She goes over to the infirmary. "I'm here," she tells Gemma.

The repurposed infirmary is dimly lit only by a few lanterns. Gemma doesn't budge from Lord Lathan's bedside. Even from across the room, his breathing sounds kind of worrying. 

"Lady Daylia, can you show her to your room." Her voice has the flat quality of a Healer half in trance. 

An anxious-looking woman in her sixties, in a frothy silk nightgown with her greying hair in curlers, surges toward Belrun. "Healer?" 

"Yes, which way?"

"Er, this way–" She starts trotting back in the direction of the inn. 

Belrun follows her. "Can you slow down a bit please?"

Lady Daylia seems a little offended at the implication that this isn't trotting-worthy urgent, but she does slow down. 

"Thank you - I trip," she explains, "and it's dark." Follow follow.

Lady Daylia herself nearly trips over a rock in the path, and slows down further. They re-enter the dark inn and Lady Daylia heads for the downstairs set of larger, fancier rooms instead of going upstairs.

Lord Leverance is sprawled against some pillows on their bed with a wet cloth held to his forehead, groaning. 

Belrun sits down beside him and sets to checking him over. "How long has he been sick?"

"A day and some? He started feeling ill in the evening after the first day of meetings. Yesterday he was in bed all day complaining, but - he seems worse now, when he woke he wasn't making sense and it frightened me." 

Lord Leverance is running a high fever and noticeably dehydrated, his pulse rapid and thready, though he's breathing without difficulty. 

"Fevers can do that. Can you get some water, we'll see how he does with a bit to drink..."

"Of course." She gets up. "The cook was very kind and brought him a bit of broth last night when he wouldn't eat supper, but he only had a little, he said his throat was too sore."