“Not a goat-herd,” the aide stammered, surprised by Jubal’s erupting anger.
“He’s a Lizerene.”
“I don’t care where he was born-get him and his goats out of here!”
Another goat entered as they argued and stood at Jubal’s feet, staring down on
him with blandly curious eyes while the rest of the herd explored the corners.
“Allow me to explain, my lord,” the little man said quickly and nervously. “It’s
not where I’m from but what I am: the Order of Lizerene … a humble order
devoted to the study of healing through sorcery.”
“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