‘But no other indications?’

‘Well, no…’

‘Then how can you be certain it is the Accidie? You must stop the sedation at once.’

A band went along the street below, squeaking out a carnival tune: strident pipes and fiddles scraping to the hectic beat of a tambourin.

‘You hear that?’ Tartarus said.

Jerame nodded grimly. ‘The Day of the Dead.’

Orial twitched again, jerking her head to one side. Her hand fluttered up, moving involuntarily towards her temples.

‘See? She can hear it too. Maybe she can even sense the music from other bands further away. Or maybe all we’re observing is an adverse reaction to the sedative drugs.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Your medical judgement seems more than a little clouded by your feelings as a father. Let me take her back to the Asylum, away from the festivities.’

‘No,’ Jerame said instantly.

‘Of course you want to keep her here, in familiar surroundings. But at the Asylum she will have calm, quiet, experienced nursing. If the fit comes upon her again, we can restrain her safely.’

‘I will not have her tied down to the bed like a madwoman.’

‘How else can we be sure this is fully developed Accidie – and not just hysteria, induced by excitement and overwork? I need to observe her to confirm your diagnosis – and I can tell nothing whilst she’s so heavily sedated. At the Asylum we can employ the new electrical methods if the fit comes upon her again.’

‘You will not subject her to your accursed electrical contraption! She is not a laboratory rat to be used in your experiments.’

‘Then, my dear Jerame, if you refuse all the treatments I have to offer, why did you call me in?’

Jerame did not reply.

‘What is worse? To poison her slowly with laudanum, or to risk loss of memory?’ Tartarus came closer, closer, until he stood just behind Jerame, his voice low and persuasive. ‘Ask yourself, what are the alternatives?’

When Tartarus had gone, Jerame stood looking down at his daughter for a while, a long while.

Tartarus’s accusations still stung. How could Ophil suggest his medical judgement had become impaired?

Orial stirred; her lashes fluttered open a slit… then closed again. She was slowly surfacing from the drugged sleep – and it was time to administer another measure of the sedative.

He went to the cabinet, took out the bottle and uncorked it. The smell, sickly and bitter, made him grimace.

How dare Tartarus imply his treatment was wrong? Safely sedated, she could do no harm to herself. And yet… he knew as well as Tartarus the risks of continuous sedation.

His hand hovered over the cork.

It was as much of a risk to stop the treatment.