Will looked coldly at him. 'Perhaps I could. But why would I?'

Malcolm shook his head and turned away. Will moved to him and touched his shoulder, turning the healer back to face him again.

'Malcolm, I think I understand. I know you find it hard to condone this. But it has to be done.'

The little man shook his head unhappily. 'It goes against everything I've ever done and believed, Will. The idea of deliberately infecting a healthy body, of putting poison into it… it's just wrong for me!'

'Perhaps it is,' Will conceded. 'But it's Halt's only chance. You know that creature was never going to tell us which poison he used. No matter how much we threatened him, he didn't believe we'd follow through on the threats. And he was probably right. I couldn't put a knife to his throat and simply kill him if he refused to answer.'

'So this is different?' Malcolm asked and Will nodded.

'Of course it is. This way, the choice is up to him. If he tells us which poison he used, you can counteract it. You've said yourself the antidote will be effective almost immediately. This way, we're not killing him. We're here to save him. And if he dies, it will be his choice.'

Malcolm lowered his eyes. There was a long silence between them.

'You're right,' he said at length. 'I don't like it, but I can see there is a difference. And it's necessary.'

They heard the sound of thudding footsteps coming back down the hill, then Horace led a white-faced, shuffling Bacari into the clearing among the trees. There was an unmistakable expression of grim satisfaction on Horace's face.

'Guess what?' he said. 'Our friend has his memory back.'

The poison was derived from the white aracoina. Bacari babbled the information to Malcolm, his eyes wide with fear. Malcolm nodded and hurried to fetch his medical kit. He rummaged inside it and produced half a dozen small containers of liquids and sacks of powder. Hastily, he began measuring and mixing and within five minutes had a thin, yellow liquid prepared. He took the bowl containing the liquid and moved to Halt's side.

'No,' Will said, gesturing to the bowl. 'Not Halt. Give it to Bacari first.'

At first, Malcolm was surprised by the statement. Then he saw the reasoning behind it. There was still the chance that the Genovesan had deceived them about the poison. If he saw that he was about to be given the wrong antidote, the antidote that could kill him, he would have to tell them. But the killer looked quickly at Will as he heard the words and stepped forward, trying to twist so that his wounded arm, still tied behind his back, was closer to the healer.

'Yes! Yes!' he said. 'Give it to me now!'

Horace had been right. The fact that he had penetrated a vein with the poison meant that it was working far more quickly on the Genovesan than it had on Halt. Already, Bacari could feel the heat in his injured arm, the burning pain of the poison. And he could feel it moving up the arm as well. His pulse was starting to race – another side effect of the poison – and he knew that would force the venom around his system even more quickly.

Malcolm looked at him, glanced at Will and nodded. Halt was safe for the time being and it would take only minutes to administer the antidote to Bacari. He gestured to the man's arm.

'Untie him, please, Will,' he said. 'I need to get at that arm.'

Will reached behind the Genovesan and undid the thumb cuffs. As he did so, he dropped his hand warningly to the hilt of his saxe knife.

'Remember, we don't need you alive any longer. Be very careful in all your movements.'

Bacari nodded and dropped eagerly beside where Malcom was kneeling. He stretched out his arm for treatment, gasping in alarm as Malcolm removed the bandage and he could see the banded, discoloured flesh of his inside forearm. With the pressure of the constricting bandage removed, the arm was swollen badly. Malcolm took the injured arm, studied it for a moment, then turned it so that the inner part faced upwards. He had a small, very sharp blade in his free hand.

'I'm going to have to cut, you understand?' he said. 'I'm cutting into a vein to administer the antidote.'

'Yes! Yes!' the Genovesan said, his words stumbling over each other. 'Cut the vein. I know this! Just hurry!'

Malcolm glanced up at him, then back down to the arm. Deftly he found a vein and cut into it with the small blade. Blood welled up immediately and he nodded to a small square of linen that he had placed ready on the ground beside him.

'Wipe the blood away, please, Will.'

Will dropped to his knees to do so. As he cleared the wound, and in the seconds he had before blood welled up again, Malcolm quickly inserted a thin hollow tube into the cut vein. There was a bell-shaped end to the tube and he poured some of the yellow liquid into it, watching it as it ran down the inside, tapping the tube until the liquid coalesced into a single mass, without air bubbles in it.

He continued to hold the tube upright until the liquid ran down to the end that was inserted in Bacari's arm. Then, leaning forward, he put his lips to the bell-shaped opening and blew gently, forcing the antidote into the man's vein, where the bloodflow would distribute it around his system. Deftly, Malcolm placed a linen pad over the small incision he had made in the man's arm, then bound it firmly in place with a bandage.

Bacari's shoulders sagged in relief and he looked up at the healer, bowing his head several times in gratitude.

'Thank you. Thank you,' he said.

Malcolm shook his head contemptuously. 'I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because I can't stand by and watch another human being die.' He looked at Will. 'You can tie this animal up again if you like.'

'I'll do that,' Horace said, stepping forward and picking up the thumb cuffs from where Will had dropped them. 'You give Malcolm a hand with Halt.'

Malcolm started to demur. He didn't really need any help. Then he saw the anxious look on Will's face and knew he would feel better if he were doing something to speed his mentor's recovery. He nodded briefly.

'Good idea. Bring my kit, would you?'

Kneeling beside Halt, he cleaned the end of the thin tube with a colourless, strong-smelling liquid he took from his satchel. Then he took Halt's arm from under the blankets and removed the bandage, exposing the sight of the shallow wound. He used more of the pungent liquid to clean his small blade, then went to work administering the antidote to Halt. Throughout the process, there was no sound or reaction from the Ranger, even when the blade cut into his arm. Will noticed that Malcolm used considerably more of the antidote liquid than he had used on Bacari.

'Poison's been in him longer than Bacari,' Malcolm said, sensing his curiosity. 'He'll need more of the antidote.' When he was done, Malcolm bandaged Halt's arm again. He looked up at Will, saw the anxiety in the young man's eyes and smiled reassuringly.

'He'll be fine in a few hours,' he said. 'All I have to do now is give him something to bring him awake again. The faster his system is working, the sooner the antidote will take effect.'

He prepared another compound and poured a little between Halt's lips. As the liquid trickled back into his throat, Halt swallowed reflexively and Malcolm nodded approval. He cleaned his instrument and rose to his feet, groaning slightly with the effort.

'I'm getting too old for this outdoor lark,' he said. 'I need a camp with a few armchairs around the fire.'

Will hadn't moved. He was still on his knees beside Halt, leaning forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the bearded Ranger's face, looking for any sign of recovery. Malcolm touched his shoulder gently.

'Come on, Will,' he said. 'It'll be a few hours before there's any improvement. For now, you need food and rest. I don't want Halt to recover only to find you've collapsed.'