The tent was sparsely furnished. There was a table scattered with maps and scrolls of parchment and a rack bearing weapons of various kinds — sabres, maces, spears — all dark and cruel-looking. A narrow cot stood in one comer of the tent, and upon it lay — not a man — but a draconian. Commander Skaahzak.
Jastom did not need to be a true healer to see that the commander was dying. His scaly flesh was gray and withered, clinging tightly to the bones of his skull. His yellow eyes flickered with a hazy, feverish light, and his clawed hands clutched feebly at the twisted bed covers. His left shoulder had been bound with a thick bandage, but the cloth was soaked with a black, oozing ichor.
"Commander Skaahzak was wounded a fortnight ago, in a skirmish with a roving patrol of Solamnic Knights," Durm explained. "At first the wound did not seem dire, but it has festered. You will work your craft upon him, healer. Or you will join the rest outside."
"We… uh… we have to prepare an elixir," Jastom said, doing his best to keep his voice from trembling.
Durm nodded stiffly. "Very well. If you require anything in your task, you have only to request it." With another faint smile, devoid of warmth, the lieutenant left them to their task.
When Jastom and Grimm were alone in the cluttered space inside their wagon, the dwarf shook his head.
"Have you gone completely mad, then, Jastom?" he whispered. "You know very well we sold our last potion in Fax-fail, and yet you go offering one up like we can conjure them out of thin air."
"Well, I couldn't think of anything else to say," Jastom returned defensively. After Faxfail, they had planned to head for Kaolyn to buy ingredients so Grimm could brew another batch of dwarf spirits.
"Besides," Jastom went on, "there must be something we can do. If we don't come out of here with an elixir, and soon, Durm's going to feed the crows with us." He began rummaging around the boxes, pots, and jars strewn about the inside of the wagon. "Wait a minute," he said excitedly, "there's still something left in the bottom of this cask." He tipped the cask over an empty purple bottle. A thick, brown, gritty-looking fluid oozed out.
"You can't give the commander that!" Grimm cried hoarsely, trying to snatch the purple bottle away.
"Why not?" Jastom asked, holding the bottle up out of the dwarf's reach.
Grimm glowered, stubby hands on his hips. "That's pure mash — goblin's gruel, my grandpappy always called it. The dregs left over after distilling the dwarf spirits. That stuff makes the rest of the batch seem like water. Oh, it'll make him happy — might say quite happy for a while — but in the end…" Grimm shook his head.
"A while! That's all the time we need to get away," Jastom said desperately, stoppering the bottle.
Grimm shook his head dubiously. "We're going to make a fine feast for the crows."
The draconian Commander Skaahzak moaned as he thrashed in his fevered sleep. Jastom held the small bottle filled with the goblin's gruel. Grimm stood beside him. Durm watched the two from across the commander's bed, his expression stony. With a flourish of his cape, Jastom lifted the purple bottle and unstoppered it. No sense in sparing the dramatics.
Jastom nodded to Grimm. The dwarf grabbed the draconian's twisting head and held it steady, forcing the monster's jaws open with strong fingers. Jastom tipped the bottle and poured the thick contents past the draconian's lolling forked tongue and down his gullet. Grimm let Skaahzak's jaws snap back shut. Jastom waved his hand, and the empty bottle seemed to vanish into thin air. Durm never even blinked an eye.
Jastom took a deep breath, searching for something suitably dramatic to say. But before he could, the fetid air of the tent was shattered by a blood-curdling shriek.
Skaahzak.
The draconian shrieked again, writhing upon the bed. Jastom and Grimm gaped at the creature. In a flash, Durm drew his sword and levelled it at Jastom's heart.
"It seems you have failed," Durm spoke softly, almost as a father might chide an erring son, except that his voice was so deathly cold.
Abruptly, the draconian commander leapt from the bed and knocked Durm's sword aside. The goblin's gruel was coursing through the creature's blood, lighting him aflame. The gray tinge had left Skaahzak's flesh, and if his wound was causing him any pain he did not show it. His yellow eyes glowed brightly now.
"Stop this foolishness, Durm," Skaahzak hissed. "I will have your head if you dare strike either of these most skillful healers."
Jastom's head was spinning. But he was not about to let this opportunity go to waste. He doffed his cap and bowed deeply. "It gladdens my heart to see milord in such excellent health," he proclaimed in a deeply-felt tone. He surreptitiously kicked Grimm's knee, and the dwarf toppled forward in clumsy imitation of Jastom's graceful bow.
"You have done me a great service, healer," Skaahzak said in his dry, reptilian voice, donning a crimson robe that an attendant soldier offered him.
"I am overjoyed that I could restore such a brilliant commander to health," Jastom said. Grimm muttered something inaudible under his beard.
"That you have," Skaahzak hissed. Suddenly he spun about wildly, a ferocious, toothy grin on his face. "I've never felt better in my life!" He lurched dizzily and would have fallen but for Durm's strong hands steadying him.
There was no doubt about it. The draconian was riproaring drunk.
"Take your filthy paws from me!" Skaahzak spat, shrugging off the lieutenant's grip. "You, who have brought me healer after healer, cleric after cleric, all who poked, prodded, and prayed to their foul gods over me, and all who failed. I should have you flailed for letting me suffer so long." Skaahzak's expression flickered between intoxicated ecstasy and livid rage. Little seemed to separate the two emotions in this creature.
Durm watched silently, impassively.
"However, you did bring these most excellent healers to me," Skaahzak said, his voice crooning now. "Thus I will be merciful. I will even grant you a reward to show you the depths of my kindness." He held out his left hand. "You may kiss the ring of your master, Lieutenant Durm."
On the draconian's clawed middle finger was a ring set with a ruby as big as a thumbnail. Jastom guessed that Skaahzak hadn't removed the ring in years. In fact, he doubted the draconian would be able to take it off at all. The monster's scaly flesh was puffy and swollen to either side of the ring. Durm did not hesitate. He knelt before Skaahzak's proffered hand.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the glimmering ruby. As he did so, Skaahzak struck the lieutenant. Durm did not even flinch. Slowly, he rose to his feet. The ruby had cut his cheek, and a thin trickle of blood, as crimson as the gem, ran down his jaw. The draconian grinned.
"There, lieutenant," Skaahzak said, his reptilian voice slurred and indistinct. "Your reward is complete."
Durm bowed stiffly, giving Jastom a brief, indecipherable glance.
Jastom tried to swallow his heart, but it kept clawing its way up into his throat. He cast a meaningful look at Grimm. It was time to get out of this place. The dwarf nodded emphatic agreement.
"Well, I am delighted to see that all things appear to have been set aright," Jastom said pleasantly, placing his cap back on his head. "Thus I believe that we will be — "
Skaahzak interrupted him.
"I have a proclamation to make!" the draconian shouted. He sloshed some wine into a silver goblet — spilling the better portion of it on his robe — and began to weave drunkenly about the tent, stumbling over chests and pieces of furniture. One of his attendants followed behind him with a quill and parchment, taking down each word. "Be it known that, for their most excellent service, these two healers shall hereby become my personal physicians, from now until the end of all days!" He spread his arms wide in a gesture of triumph. The silver goblet he clutched struck the head of his attendant with a loud Clunk! The soldier dropped to the floor like a stone, the parchment and quill slipping from his fingers. Skaahzak did not notice.