"Rook infusion," Syryn muttered as he left the widow's house with Dinah. "It could be the reason for why he died faster than the other man."
"Did you get a good look at his face? It wasn't scrawny and malnourished."
"It wasn't," Syryn agreed. "And yet he died." That shot Syryn's hypothesis about malnutrition killing the victim. If he could get his hands on the corpse of the freshly deceased man, Syryn was sure he could find a hint in there.
"What do you feel about grave digging?" He asked Dinah.
"No," she replied. "Not until we are left without a choice."
"You can watch a few more people die if that's what you're waiting for, Dinah. It'll happen," Syryn told the priestess.
"Do you have any other suggestions?" She asked.
"How about you catch the disease and die from it? I can cut you open to solve the mystery."
