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I threw open the door to Sandri's room, unwilling to believe what Father had told me. She lay on the bed, a vague shape behind the sheer canopies. Small moans broke the heavy silence as I crept toward her.

"Willow?" Her voice was weak, husky. She pushed the canopies aside and I saw how frail she looked, all pale skin and fragile bones.

"I'm here." I rushed to her and took her hand in mine.

"But you should not be." Chrissie, the chambermaid, stepped around the bed to stand beside me.

"Do they know what illness it is?" I turned toward her, reluctant to take my eyes off my sister.

"Plague," Sandri answered before taking to a fit of coughs.

"Quite, dear," Chrissie admonished gently, trying to pry my fingers from my sister's hand. I kept my grip firm and glared at her. Abashed, she let me alone.

"Is there a cure?"

"Not that we know." The chambermaid sighed and set herself to straightening the room.

"What will we do?" I asked at length, watching Sandri closely.

"There is nothing you can do." Father entered the room, oddly disheveled. "A girl had no place questing for hidden cures. I have sent Lord Wenoa to search. She will live yet."

"A girl?" I shouted, longing to pound on his chest to show him just how angry I was. "I am no less than him! Do not confuse me, Father. I am as capable as Lord Wenoa."

"Your betrothed would not take well to your belittling," he scolded, still not nearing the bed.

"My lord," Chrissie interrupted, "Willow is in denial. She refuses to accept the illness of her sister. Years of acting mother had left her in a state of protectiveness that cannot be removed."

"I see."

"What? I want to save Sandri, yes, but there is more to it than that! What kind of bride would I make for Wenoa if I was forever locked behind fortress walls?"

"A good one," was Father's stern answer. In a tone that left no room for argument, he proclaimed, "You shall remain here and let Lord Wenoa find the cure. I am sure he is capable enough."

"You don't understand!" I glared at him, tears burning my eyes. "This isn't for you! This is for Sandri�for me."

"Willow, I'll be fine," Sandri whispered. "Lord Wenoa will save me and then we can give the cure to everyone else too."

"Exactly." Father nodded, clearly not aware that "everyone" meant everyone, peasants included. "I must be off."

"Go," Sandri rasped after he left. "Find the cure. Old Storm Cloud wouldn't be able to find it anyway. But you can, I know it. If you leave after he's asleep, he won't know until you're long gone."

I was glad that the illness hadn't taken her sense of humor yet. Smiling faintly, I released her hand and smoothed the hair out of her eyes. "Nothing could stop me."

"I beg to differ." Chrissie placed hands on hips and watched us.

"Chrissie, surely you don't plan to hinder my escape, do you?" I raised my eyebrows and stared incredulously at her. It was a comical thought, the plump woman trying to retain the tall, limber woman I was becoming.

"Not I, my lady." Mirth gleamed in her eyes but her face remained set in anger. "But many others would try: starvation, illness�lustful men."

"Chrissie!" I laughed and my smile only grew to hear Sandri chuckling with me.

"It's true," she protested. "Many men would kill to have you as a wife and not just for the money."

"Wait a minute!" Sandri called, sounding stronger and more her old self. "Willow, make me laugh again!"

"Uh�how?" I stroked my chin in imitation of Father's hired bards. "Does this work?" I jumped up and down, crying out nonsense.

"Yes!" She squealed between giggles. Chrissie couldn't decide who to watch and her head kept snapping back and forth. Suddenly Sandri rolled from the bed to stand before me. She looked ten times healthier than when I walked in.

"The cure!" I cried, rushing to her.

"Laughter!" She hugged me tight and we sank to the floor, laughing until we couldn't breath and then some.

Since that day not one citizen in Father's kingdom has died from the plague. And all because laughter is indeed the best medicine.