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“You can have it in our vaults by Friday?” asked Xanthe.

“Yes,” said Osric again.

“Why did you come to Haelan Fairhrim specifically?” asked Xanthe.

“I was told she specialises in the seith system.”

“That she does.”

“I’m told she’s a Phenomenon.”

“No one better.” Xanthe came to stand in front of Osric. The old Haelan was small, bowed about the shoulders, absurdly wrinkled in the face. She studied him with a kind of pity. “So it’s your seith that troubles you. Poor thing.”

The adjective startled Osric. It had never been applied to him before: he was not poor.

“I understand your desperation,” continued Xanthe. “Aurienne would be the specialist you need.”

“Idon’tspecialise in healing walkers of the Dusken Paths, however,” interjected Fairhrim.

“Is he one?” asked Xanthe. “We can’t say. We haven’t seen his hands.”

“Because he’s refused to show them to us,” said Fairhrim.

“Excellent.” Xanthe nodded. “Plausible deniability.”

Fairhrim sputtered. “With all respect—”

“We won’t have to keep fondling the pendulous balls of the granting agencies this way,” said Xanthe.

“But—”

Xanthe tapped Fairhrim on the forehead with the rolled-up letter. “I had to wade hip deep through dying children to get here, Aurienne. Don’t let’s be precious about twenty million in gold.”

“Healing one of his kind is against everything we stand for,” said Fairhrim.

“Oh, I agree. It’ll be difficult for you.”

“Difficult forher?” cut in Osric. “What about me? I’m the one who’s sick.”

Xanthe turned to Osric with something of her previous storminess. “Yes, her. She’ll be the one sullying herself. Now, if you’re serious, let’s discuss terms. You’ll deposit twenty million thrymsas in the Haelan vault by close of play Friday, in the form of an anonymous donation to the Pox fund. Once our bookkeepers have examined the gold for any jiggery-pokery, Aurienne will heal you to the best of her ability.”

“Haelan Xanthe, this ismostirregular—” began Fairhrim, but Xanthe looked at her, and Fairhrim closed her mouth with a snap.

“My only stipulation is that no one must know,” said Osric.

Xanthe made an impatient gesture. “Obviously. We also have a vested interest in keeping this sort of unsavoury arrangement discreet.”

“Then we have a deal,” said Osric.

Fairhrim looked on in tight-lipped silence.

“Aurienne is more than capable of taking care of herself,” said Xanthe. “But I should tell you, if she comes to harm in the course of treating you, I will kill you myself.”

Osric wanted to laugh at this preposterous old lady. However, as Xanthe held his gaze, he felt something of her seith. It was as though a small dry hand had given his gravestone a friendly pat.

He did not, to the best of his knowledge, have a gravestone.

“Understood,” said Osric.