“It won’t work; there’re too many, and it’ll take too long.” Father Al’s face slid into view as Gwen’s slid out. “High Warlock! Hear me! Wish, as you’ve never wished before! Wish, with all your might, all your being, for your body to be whole again, completely mended, as it was before you ever were wounded!”

“I do,” Rod croaked. Now that the priest mentioned it, he did! Oh, how he wished! If anything could stop this agony, let it happen! He wished, fervently, for total health, for an unmarked body, for the wounds to go away, and never come back…!

And the helping spirit was there again, sliding inside, up, and all through him, kindly, reassuring, healing, absorbing the hurt…

Then it was gone—and so was the pain.

Rod stared, unbelieving.

Then he lifted his head, slowly, and looked down at his body. He was covered with blood, and his clothing was torn to rags—but the blood was still, there was nothing new running. And he felt well. In fact, he felt wonderful.

“Uh… Gwen…”

“Aye, husband.” She was there, her hand cradling his head.

“Just to be on the safe side, I’d better not move. Check the shoulder, will you?”

He felt her fingers probing—rather pleasant sensation, really. In fact, more than pleasant…

“ ‘Tis whole, Rod.” There was wonder in her voice.

He relaxed with a sigh, letting his head fall back. “Thank Heaven for that! Was there anything else wrong?”

“Quite a bit,” Father Al admitted.

The children had hushed.

“Check it out, would you? I’d hate to move if I’m going to start hurting again.”

“I will, husband.” He felt her fingers probing his side, his collarbone, his nose, rolling him a little to test his back.

“Thou’rt whole, husband.” The wonder gave way to rejoicing. “Oh, thou’rt healed!”

“Well, then, let’s get back into action.” He sat up and gathered her in. She clung to him as though he were a rock in the rapids, sobbing. “There, now—there, love,” he murmured. “I’m okay now. There, be a good girl, don’t cry, we’ll go find a haystack as soon as the kids’re asleep, and I’ll prove it.”

She smiled up at him, blinking through her tears. “Well, if I’d any doubts, they’re resolved. Thou art healed.”

“Papa!” shrieked three jubilant voices, and the kids piled onto him.

He just barely managed to remain upright, patting and hugging. “There, now, children, don’t worry. Papa had a bad time, but he’s clear now… Gwen, watch Elidor, would you? We don’t want to lose him again… No, now, there, I’m all right!”

“Aye,” Gwen breathed, eyes glowing. “Father Al hath cured him.”

“No—he did,” the priest insisted. “I just told him what to do.”

Rod stilled.

Then he cleared the children gently out of his line of sight.

“You mean I wrought that miracle cure?”

“Well…” Father Al spread his hands. “We’d already established that what you wished, happened…”

“Yes, we had,” Rod agreed. “Ready to try a hypothesis yet, Father?”

“No-o-o-o,” the priest pursed his lips. “But I am getting closer…”

“You and my robot,” Rod sighed, getting to his feet. “He never would state a hypothesis until it was established fact. Hey, I don’t even feel any of the aches from those faery pinches last night!”

“Interesting,” Father Al breathed. “Have any old scars?”

“Hm—that’s a thought.” Rod glanced at Gwen. “We’ll have to check that tonight, dear.”

She blushed, and explained to the priest, “Some of them are where he cannot see them.”

“I always did like a good Christian marriage,” Father Al agreed. “Well! If we’ve picked up all the pieces, can we get back to the chapel? I have an altar stone to return.”

“Yeah, I don’t see any reason for hanging around here.” Rod surveyed the scene, turning grim. “Hey! What’re you doing, Magnus?”

“Picking up pieces.” The boy straightened, holding up a long, sharp tooth. “Can I keep this for a trophy, Papa?”

“What—the monster left a tooth behind?” Rod shuddered. “Why would you want to remember him, son?”

“I do not know, Papa.” Magnus’s chin thrust out a little. “I only know that I think ‘twould be wise.”

Rod frowned down at him. Then he said, “Well, I’ve learned that your hunches generally turn out to be worth having. Okay, take it along—but wrap it up tight, and swab it down with alcohol first chance you get.”

“I will, Papa.” Magnus blossomed into a smile and pulled a rag from his wallet.

It had been a handkerchief, once. Rod turned to Gwen. “Ready to go, dear?”

“Aye.” She picked up her broomstick.

“And I.” Father Al came up, tucking the wrapped altar stone under his arm. He looked up at the tower. “Whose army will garrison this place now, do you think—Duke Foidin’s, or Lord Kern’s?”

“Whichever gets here fastest.” Rod turned away. “Frankly, Father, right now, I’d love to see the blasted thing fall apart.” He looked up sharply at the gleam in Magnus’s eye. “Don’t you dare!”

They came out of the copse toward the back door of the church as the sun was setting. Rod looked around the town, frowning. “Little quiet, isn’t it?”

“It is the hour for supper,” Gwen mused.

“Well, it’s been a strange day all around.” Father Al knocked on the “rectory” door. “No doubt the good Father will explain.”

The door opened a crack, showing an eye and a slice of beard. The eye widened, then so did the door. “Thou livest!”

“Was there any doubt of it?” Father Al smiled and held out the altar stone. “We had a saint on our side!”

The old priest took it gingerly, as though not quite believing it was real. “And the Redcap? Is he dead?”

“Well, vanished, anyway.” Rod smiled. “I don’t think he’ll come back.”

“Nay, they never return, once they’ve been routed; none of the faery folk do!” The old priest breathed a long, shaky sigh. “We heard thunder in the mountains, and hid our heads. I and half the parish are here, besieging Heaven with prayers for your safety.”

“Well, that explains my quick recovery.” Rod locked gazes with Father Al. “I had reinforcements.”

“A very intense field to draw from, nearby?” The priest pursed his lips. “Perhaps…”

“Dost thou know what thou hast done?” the old priest burst out. “Caravans once did move through that pass above us—whole armies! None ha’ dared venture there for ten years, since the King’s army attempted, and lost!”

Rod stared, his eyes growing huge. Then he stabbed his finger toward the mountain pass a few times, making noises in his throat.

“Milord?” the old priest said humbly.

“You mean…” Rod finally got his voice in gear. “You mean that was the monster that’s been blocking Lord Kern from coming out of the Northwest?”

“Aye,” the old priest said, “ ‘twas, indeed.”

Rod clasped his hands tight to stop the trembling, then had to clench his teeth to stop the chattering.

The old priest blinked, bemused, then turned to Father Al. “Should I not ha’ told him?”

“Oh, no, it’s all right, it’s all right!” Rod protested. “I’m just glad you didn’t tell me before we went up there…”