True to his word, Toby returned with Father Turly just as the sky was darkening with the approach of night. Just as, back at the castle, Lyssa was combing her long, silky hair with a trembling hand and whispering prayers to the Gods as she prepared herself for her third night with Philip.

     The cleric was a nervous, twitchy little man whose eyes darted to every corner of the room as he stepped timidly through the door. A sharp contrast to the heroic figures of Tak's father's fireside tales who called down the power of the Gods to smite the wicked and the forces of evil. But he's a healer, not a fighter, Tak reminded himself. Fighting is no part of his calling. Even so, though, he couldn't help feeling that a man of the Gods ought to have a bit more courage, that his faith and the promise of a blissful afterlife should be enough to counter any worldly terror. It was almost a sin, he felt, that a cleric should fear for his material body when it was surely his soul that counted, but then, who was he to question the wisdom of Caroli the Healer? For whatever reason, She had chosen him to be one of Her own and that was all that Tak, a mere mortal, needed to know.

     "Is this the man?" he asked in a thin, reedy voice, peering down at Jack Nowl where he tossed and turned in his sweat-soaked sheets.

     Tak bit back a biting comment. "Yes," he said. "Purple plant poisoning. Is there anything you can do?"

     The cleric turned to look at him. "The question is, is My Lady willing to help him, and if She is, is my faith great enough to act as a conduit for that much holy power? The second is questionable. I know that I am a sinner, weak and wayward in following Her path, and as far as the former is concerned, that depends on him. If he has led a sinful life, My Lady might refuse to..."

     "Skip the sermon and get on with it," demanded Toby impatiently. "Look at how he's suffering. If you can cure him, then cure him!"

     The cleric's eyes widened in fear and he shrank down into himself. Then some shred of pride and dignity asserted itself, though, and he drew himself firmly up, glaring defiantly at the farmer. "We shall see," he said. He bent over the feverish merchant, placed his bony hands on his stomach and chest and chanted a prayer to Caroli, beseeching Her aid to cure him and restore him to health.

     Tak had never been present at a healing before, and the electric tingle that he felt over the surface of his body as the holy power flooded through the cleric shocked him speechless. There was a power here unlike anything he'd ever encountered before. Something glorious and wonderful, and all of a sudden the cleric's failings seemed trivial and unimportant. Courage and heroism was irrelevant in a cleric of Caroli, he now realised. The sole purpose of his existence was to be a conduit for this force, the healing power of the Goddess Caroli, and if he was a coward, that just meant he'd probably live longer so he could heal more people.

     Father Turly straightened, looking pleased and relieved, and Jack Nowl was cured. He gave a great gasping cry of relief and started in surprise when he became aware for the first time of the people gathered around his bed.

     "Father," he said, wiping the sweat from his face with the bedclothes and sitting up. "Thank you. Thank you very much. Must have been something I ate..."

     Whatever else he might have said was lost as his wife and daughter threw themselves at him, sobbing and crying with joy and relief, and their three visitors crept discretely out of the room.

☆☆☆

     Half an hour later Jack Nowl, fully dressed in clean clothes, stormed down the stairs in a red fury and grabbed Tak by the collar. "I want my daughter back!" he spat into the boy's face. "I want her back now!"

     "Y-yes, of course," stammered Tak in fear as he felt himself lifted onto his toes and grabbed the man's wrists. "First thing tomorrow..."

     "I said now!" roared Jack, shaking the apprentice wizard and pulling him closer. "She's not spending another night in that devil's bed! We're getting her now!"

     "I know how you feel, Jack," said Toby, grabbing the man's arm to try to separate them. "I'd feel the same if it were one of mine, but it'll be dark before we're halfway there and it'd be suicide to try that road by night. There's a good many fellows've fallen to their deaths in the full light of day. Tomorrow's the soonest we can go if you want to get there alive."

     Jack's hands tightened on Tak's collar as he glared at Toby in an agony of anxiety and despair, but then he pushed Tak roughly away from him. "In the morning, then. First light. And he comes with us." He pointed an accusing finger at the apprentice, who was rubbing his sore throat. "If I don't get her back I'll throw him from the highest ledge."

     "Show some gratitude, Jack," said Toby gently. "Twas this lad came out of the castle to put things right, and almost froze to death doing it."

     "He's one of them!" spat Jack Nowl in helpless fury. "I could twist his neck for what they've done to us. When I think of my sweet Lyssa lying next to that..."

     His hands balled into fists and Tak shrank back against the wall in fear. Jack Nowl didn't quite have Toby's muscles, but he was fit and strong and fired to greater strength by his emotions. If he decided to beat Tak into a pulp, Toby might not be able to stop him.

     Jack stormed out of the room, came back a moment later with a two foot length of hairy string. "What are you..." began Tak, but his question was answered as the man pulled his arms behind his back.

     "Jack!" protested Toby as Jack Nowl looped the string several times about the boy's thin wrists and pulled it tight with a savage jerk. "That's not necessary! He came to help you!"

     "I'm not taking any chances he'll run away in the night," snarled Jack as he knotted the string. "It's a straight swap, my girl for the boy. If I don't get her back he dies on the rocks." He pushed the boy ahead of him to the broom cupboard and shoved him roughly in.

     "Could I go to the toilet first?" asked Tak as he bounced off the far wall.

     "Wet your pants!" spat Jack, who then slammed the door closed and locked it. Tak heard Toby say a word of protest, followed by the sound of Jack striding out of the room.

     "Don't worry lad," came Toby's muffled voice through the door. "I won't let him hurt you. He's not himself at the moment, worrying about his daughter, but he hasn't got it in him to kill anyone."

     "That's a relief," said Tak, who wasn't too convinced.

     "I feel bad about this. I wish I could do something, but the rest of the town's likely to feel the same way he does about this."

     "Don't worry about it." Tak winced at the tightness of the string around his wrists and tried to twist himself into a more comfortable position. "I'll be okay."

     "Look, I've got to get along home now, my family'll be worrying, but I'll be back at first light and I'll come with you up the mountain. I'll see he doesn't hurt you."

     "Thanks for everything you've done," said Tak. "I owe you so much..."

     "Forget it, lad. I wish I could do more. You sure you're okay in there?"

     "It's a little uncomfortable, there's nowhere to sit, but I'll be okay. See you in the morning."

     "Count on it," said Toby. Tak heard the sound if his footsteps passing across the room. Then there was silence.

☆☆☆

     Tak wasn't forced to wet his pants. Jack, under the urging of his wife, returned an hour later to let him relieve himself, freeing his hands to do it. When he retied him he was gentler about it, although he made sure the boy's wrists were quite secure. Instead of going back into the broom cupboard, Jack tied him to one of the bedposts, where he could keep an eye on him, although neither he nor his wife got a wink of sleep that night. Tak, sitting on the floor with his back to the post, managed to drop off for a while, but it seemed he was only asleep for a few minutes before he was being pulled to his feet again.

     "Time to go," the man said. His emotions seemed to have calmed, but in their place was an icy determination that Tak found even more frightening. There was a hardness in his eyes that told Tak he was quite capable of killing him, no matter what Toby said. He twisted his bound hands helplessly.

     Outside the window it was still black. "It's not light yet," he protested.

     "It'll be light enough by the time we get to the hard parts."

     "But Toby's not coming 'till daybreak. We have to wait for him."

     "We don't need his interfering. It's not his daughter in that devil's bed. He won't have the nerve to do what might have to be done."

     "Jack!" cried his wife in torment. "You wouldn't! Not really!"

     "I hope I don't have to, but I mean to have Lyssa back and I'll do whatever it takes to get her." He pushed Tak roughly forward. "C'mon boy."

     His other daughter was waiting outside with a horse and cart. Not their own, they had no place to keep it. She must have borrowed it from someone and Tak wondered what tale she'd spun to get it. She couldn't have told the truth or the whole town would be up to see them off. The cold air felt like sharp needles on his face and stars shone down like sparkling diamonds. The air was as still as he could ever remember it being.

     "Please be careful," begged Clara as Jack lifted Tak up into the passenger seat.

     "I will," promised Jack, giving her a hug and a kiss. Then he kissed Belinda and hugged her to his chest for a moment. "When I come back I'll have Lyssa with me."

     "Remember one thing, Jack," said Clara as her husband climbed up into the driving seat. "That boy came to help us. Without him, you'd still be lying in your bed. It was he sent for the cleric. No-one else would have thought of it."

     "If he did, it was to his own advantage in some way," replied Jack. "His kind don't do favours." He gazed searchingly at Tak. "That's true, isn't it, lad? You get something out of this? Answer me, and I'll know if you're lying."

      Tak nodded. He couldn't deny it. Would he have done this if he hadn't feared a lynch mob from the town? He tried to think he would have, but the truth was he probably wouldn't have found the courage.

     "Could you untie my hands now?" he begged. "You can tie my ankles if you're afraid of me running away, but my hands are freezing."

     "You stay as you are." He slapped the reins and the horse pulled them away.

     They didn't go through the town. Jack was worried about how he would explain a tied up boy in his cart if anyone saw them. Instead he headed out of town, followed a farm track around to the east and rejoined the main road south of town. Before going any further, though, he stopped the cart, got off and walked around to the back, where Tak was sitting, watching him nervously.

     “What are you doing?” Tak asked anxiously.

     "The road goes right past your friend's house," Jack explained. He had something in his hands, something long and wide. Tak couldn’t see what it was in the darkness. "Maybe you're thinking of shouting out as we go past. I could gag you, but you can still make a lot of noise even through a gag. You're going to sleep for a while."

     "You're going to drug me?" cried Tak, his hopes evaporating.

     For an answer, Jack lifted the object he was holding, and Tak saw to his horror that it was a heavy axe handle. He tried to pull away, but Jack Nowl climbed onto the back of the cart with him and swung it at his head.