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

Now it was Jubal's turn to blink in astonishment, as he absently shoved one of the goats aside. "You? You're a wizard? You don't look like any of the magicians I'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-dwelling colleagues 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 with sustenance. As I said: it-"

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

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

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

By the time Saliman had gotten the animals into the yard the Lizerene had the bandages off and was probing Jubal's legs. It was the first time the slaver had seen 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 was told. See here-the infection's almost halfway up the thigh."

"Can you heal them?" Jubal demanded, still not looking at the wounds.

"It will be costly," the Lizerene told him, "and with no guarantee of complete success."

"I knew that before I sent for you," the slaver snarled. "Your profession always charges high and never guarantees their work. No sellsword would stay alive if he demanded a sorcerer's terms."

The wizard looked up from his examination. His expression had gone hard. "I wasn't speaking of my fee," he corrected his patient, "but of the strain to your body and mind. What is more it is your strength, and not mine which will determine the extent of your recovery. Strength of muscle and of spirit. If I and others have fallen short in our healings it is because most arrogant warriors have greater egos than skills and are also lacking-" he caught himself and turned again to the wounds. "Forgive me, my lord, sometimes being of a 'humble order' is wearing on the nerves."

"Don't apologize, man," Jubal laughed. "For the first time I begin to have some faith in your ability to do what you promise. What is your name?"

"Vertan, my lord."

"And I am Jubal-not 'my lord,' " the slave told him. "Very well, Vertan. If strength is what's needed then between the two of us we should be able to renew my legs."

"How much strain to the mind and body?" Saliman asked from the doorway.

Jubal glared at his aide, annoyed by the interruption, but Vertan had already turned to face , Saliman and did not see.

"A fine question," the Lizerene agreed. "To grasp the answer you must first understand the process." He was in his own element now, and his nervousness melted away. "There will be two parts to the healing. The first is relatively simple, but it will take some time. It involves drawing out the infection, the poisons, from the wounds. The true test lies in the second phase of the healing. There is damage here, extensive damage-and to the bones themselves. To mend bone takes time, more time that I'd venture, m'lord Jubal wishes to invest. I would therefore accelerate the body processes, thereby shortening the time required. While in this state you will consume and pass food at an incredible rate-for the body needs fuel for the healing. What would normally require days will transpire in hours; the processes of months compacted into weeks."

"Have you ever used this technique before?" Saliman asked.

"Oh, yes," Vertan assured him. "m fact, you know one of my patients. It was I who healed Balustrus. Of course, that was back in the capital before he changed his name."

"Balustrus," Jubal scowled, an image of the crippled metal-master flashing in his mind.

"I know what you're thinking," the Lizerene injected hastily, "but I have done much to perfect my skills since then. I was surprised, though, that he recommended me. At the time he was not at all pleased with the results of my work."

"I see," the slaver murmured. He shot a look at Saliman who nodded slightly, acknowledging that the metal-master would have to be investigated more closely. "But, if I follow your program twill be able to use my legs-normally?"

"Oh yes," Vertan assured him confidently. "The key factor is exercise. Balustrus remained abed throughout the process, so his joints fused together. If you have the strength and will to work your legs constantly you should regain full mobility."

"Do that for me and I'll pay you double your fee, however large, without question or complaint. When can you begin?"

"As soon as your man there takes his leave of our company," the sorcerer said.

"What?" Saliman exclaimed, rising to his feet. "You said nothing about-"

"I'm saying it now," Vertan cut him short. "Our methods are generally known, but our techniques are guarded. If one undisciplined in our order were to learn them and then attempt to duplicate our efforts without complete understanding of the signs and dangers, the results would be not only disastrous but demeaning to our humble order. No-one but the patient may witness what I propose to do. The laws of our order are most strict about this."

"Let it pass, Saliman," Jubal ordered. "I had other plans for you. I get no pleasure or support from having others see me in this weakened condition-even you. If I am to rebuild my force I will need two things: my normal physical health, intact; and current information of happenings in Sanctuary. The healing is my task; one you cannot help me with. But, for the information I must rely on you, as I have so many times in the past." He turned to the Lizerene. "How long will your healing take?"

The healer shrugged. "The time is not exact. Perhaps two months."

Jubal spoke again to Saliman. "Return to town and don't come back for three months. You have access to most of our hidden funds; use them and live well. Anyone hunting hawkmasks will not think to look among the wealthy.

"That hunting should serve as a weeding to test the fitness of our remaining swords. Learn their whereabouts and watch them-but let none know I'm still alive. After three months we'll meet and decide who is to be included in the new organization."

"If you are as wealthy as your words," Vertan interjected cautiously, "might I make an additional suggestion?" Jubal cocked an eyebrow, but indicated the wizard should continue. "There are several wizards in Sanctuary who have the power to ferret out your location. If I were to provide a list of their names and estimates of their bribe-price, you could insure your safety during the healing process by paying them not to find you."

Saliman snorted. "That way they'll take our money and still sell their services to the first hunter that asks. How trustworthy do you really think your colleagues are, healer?"

"No more or less trustworthy than a sell-sword," the Lizerene countered. "Every person has weaknesses, though some are weaker than others. While a few might be unscrupulous enough to accept double-service at least you can eliminate the danger from the honest practitioners."

"See that it's done," Jubal instructed Saliman. "There're two other things I'll want when you return. Find Hakiem and let him accompany you to witness my recovery-"

"The storyteller? Why?"

"He has amused us with his tales in the past," Jubal smiled, "as well as providing occasional bits of timely information. Sharing this story with him will guarantee that all will hear of my return to power."