Mr. Hamit was a man of his word, so he nodded in agreement.
“Do you have any recollection of how long Senectus Subita has been killing our people?”
“During all my eighty years of life, my mother’s seventy years of her life, my grandpa’s eighty-four years of his life, my great-grandma’s ninety-eight years of her life, and long before that.”
The thought that drifted through Alissa’s anxious mind wasWow, Mr. Hamit’s family does have a history of longevity. Good for them. Confusion hit her second. “So, since… forever?”
“Yes, for centuries at least, from what my great-grandma used to say in her stories.”
On the inside, Alissa tried to grasp why he would answer a simple question that way when he could have simply said, “since forever.” On the outside, she nodded and started writing everything down frantically like his words were too precious to be kept solely in memory.
“Are you aware of any cases in which the victims presented different symptoms than the ones we’re accustomed to?”
“No.”
“Do you know if there are any potions people have tried before to cure it?”
“People tried everything, Miss. Kriegen. They still do. Twice a year, I have hysterical people come to my shop buying all types of potions, afraid they might be ill. They beg me for something that could save their lives, but the twenty-four-hour warning is way too short to be of any help to us poor mortals.”
The answer gave her shivers. “What if, hypothetically speaking, someone would know the afflicted person with, let’s say… a six-month notice, do you think there is any potion that would be of help in that case?” She tried her best to disguise thehope in her voice. Luckily, the old man in front of her wasn’t one to easily read people.
“If someone knew of the victim’s affliction before it happened, I would say they would be the unluckiest bastard to have ever lived. I mean, knowing of someone’s death before it happens is messed up, girl.”
Alissa blushed at his comment but remained focused. “You didn’t answer my question.” She tapped the quill pen on her chin, leaving traces of ink on her skin.
Mr. Hamit answered, but not before he made sure to express his annoyance with a sigh that Alissa could swear lasted a full minute. “No, I don’t think any of the potions I have in my catalog would be of any use.”
Confused by his confidence, she asked, “And why is that?”
“Because Senectus is nothing more than aging, only it’s an accelerated type, one that happens in twenty-four hours.”
She stared at him silently, hating how he made total sense. She wished he would say there was a potion she could use, and Dhalia’s treatment would be as simple as drinking a colorful liquid from a glass vial.
“Have you ever seen it happen in children?”
“Not elders, nor children. Not that I recall, at least.”
That was interesting information for her, and because of that answer, she thought maybe she could identify any changes in Dhalia’s behavior that would indicate why she could be the first child to be afflicted by it in a long time, if not ever.
“Do you know of any specific behavior that would be common for the victims before passing?”
She noticed Mr. Hamit place his wrinkled index finger over his lips while he stared at the ceiling pensively. “Now that you mention it, I remember some of them talking about weird dreams.”
“Weird dreams?” Alissa had never heard any mention of dreams before.
“Yes, mostly related to princesses. Like some kind of fairy tale bullshit, probably a hallucinatory symptom.” He shrugged.
Alissa’s eyes widened when she recalled the words of Dhalia that morning.“I had a dream of a princess. She had silver hair and blue eyes.”
She didn’t think much about it at the time, but this could be an important lead.
“Any idea on the color of the hair and eyes of the princess in question?” she asked, her eyes narrowly staring at him, secretly hoping he would say silver hair and blue eyes.
Instead, Mr. Hamit growled and looked at her as if she made no sense. “Why the hell would I know the color of the hair of a princess in a stupid dream, Miss. Kriegen?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
He’s running out of patience. I’d better wrap this up quickly.
“Only two more questions, and I promise you, Mr. Dreit will have no venison any time soon.” She saw him recover some composure after the reminder, as if he needed the motivation to keep enduring this brief session of torture.