The boy's face falls. "A plague," he says, looking down at his tea and taking a sip from it. "I think... up here, something about the mountain air keeps people healthier. Down in Woodsedge, though, I hear they had to block off a whole city to keep people from traveling. Everywhere a sick person went, it went with them."

He taps his index fingers on his teacup, biting his lip. "If something like that happened here... I don't know. We'd deal with it. Master Parykelsus and I would figure it out." Whether that's genuine confidence or just youthful bravado, perhaps it doesn't matter; neither will necessarily be of any use in such a scenario, but it's not nice to dwell on it.