Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

Vertan’s hands after the first session: swollen and misshapen; dripping pus from

deep-cracked skin-caricatures of hands in the flickering candlelight. The poison

was then transferred to one of the goats whose body would then undertake to heal

the invading infection. Over a dozen of the herd now had swellings or sores from

taking part in the treatments. Jubal was astounded, frightened by the volume of

poison in his ravaged legs. While several animals now coped with his infection,

thereby lessening its power, it had all passed through Vertan. Rather than being

annoyed with the little wizard’s frequent recuperative rests, Jubal was amazed

at the Lizerene’s tenacity.

“A few… more days… will complete this phase of the treatment,” Vertan said

weakly, releasing the goat. “Then the real trial begins.”

* * *

Jubal gagged at the smell wafting from Vertan’s kettle. He had known odors

before which others found revolting: the rotting smell of blood and entrails

which the wind carried from the chamel house to his estate; the stink of

unwashed bodies, alive or dead; the clinging aroma of the excretions of penned

animals; the acrid bite of the stench of the swamp at low tide. All these he had

suffered without comment or complaint, but this . . . Whatever bubbled in Ver

tan’s pot was an abomination. No such odor had ever been generated by nature or

civilization-of that Jubal was certain.

“Drink,” Vertan ordered, thrusting a ladle into the slaver’s hands. “Two

swallows, no more.”

The contents of the ladle were still bubbling; they had the appearance and