had not realized was that the wizard drew it into his own body. He had seenVertan's hands after the first session: swollen and misshapen; dripping pus fromdeep-cracked skin-caricatures of hands in the flickering candlelight. The poisonwas then transferred to one of the goats whose body would then undertake to healthe invading infection. Over a dozen of the herd now had swellings or sores fromtaking part in the treatments. Jubal was astounded, frightened by the volume ofpoison in his ravaged legs. While several animals now coped with his infection,thereby lessening its power, it had all passed through Vertan. Rather than beingannoyed with the little wizard's frequent recuperative rests, Jubal was amazedat the Lizerene's tenacity.

"A few... more days... will complete this phase of the treatment," Vertan saidweakly, releasing the goat. "Then the real trial begins."

* * *

Jubal gagged at the smell wafting from Vertan's kettle. He had known odorsbefore which others found revolting: the rotting smell of blood and entrailswhich the wind carried from the chamel house to his estate; the stink ofunwashed bodies, alive or dead; the clinging aroma of the excretions of pennedanimals; the acrid bite of the stench of the swamp at low tide. All these he hadsuffered without comment or complaint, but this . . . Whatever bubbled in Vertan's pot was an abomination. No such odor had ever been generated by nature orcivilization-of that Jubal was certain.

"Drink," Vertan ordered, thrusting a ladle into the slaver's hands. "Twoswallows, no more."

The contents of the ladle were still bubbling; they had the appearance andtexture of vomit- but Jubal drank. The first swallow was surprisingly cool onhis tongue but the second had the warmth and pulse of something alive. Jubaltook it down with the same detached resolve he had used to kill his first