"Not a goat-herd," the aide stammered, surprised by Jubal's erupting anger."He's a Lizerene."

"I don't care where he was born-get him and his goats out of here!"

Another goat entered as they argued and stood at Jubal's feet, staring down onhim with blandly curious eyes while the rest of the herd explored the corners.

"Allow me to explain, my lord," the little man said quickly and nervously. "It'snot where I'm from but what I am: the Order of Lizerene ... a humble orderdevoted to the study of healing through sorcery."

"He can mend your legs," Saliman blurted out. "Completely. You'll be able towalk-or run-if you wish."

Now it was Jubal's turn to blink in astonishment, as he absently shoved one ofthe goats aside. "You? You're a wizard? You don't look like any of the magiciansI've seen in town."

"It's a humble order," the man replied, fussing with his threadbare robe, "and,then again, living with the goats does not encourage the finery my town-dwellingcolleagues are so proud of."

"Then, these are your goats?" Jubal shot a dark look at Saliman.

"I use them in my magics," the Lizerene explained, "and they provide me withsustenance. As I said: it-"

"I know," Jubal repeated, "it's a humble order. Just answer one question: isSaliman right? Can you heal my legs?"

"Well-I can't say for sure until I've examined the wounds, but I've beensuccessful in many cases."

"Enough. Begin your examination. And, Saliman-get these damn goats out of thehut!"

By the time Saliman had gotten the animals into the yard the Lizerene had thebandages off and was probing Jubal's legs. It was the first time the slaver hadseen the wounds and his stomach rebelled at the sight of the damage.

"Not good... not good at all," the magician mumbled. "Far worse than I wastold. See here-the infection's almost halfway up the thigh."