A dozen feet in front of Baruk was the door. The alchemist's eyes widened to find it open. A youth crouched there, holding blockish objects in each hand.

Expecting at any moment to feel Vorcan's touch, Baruk threw himself forward. He saw the boy straighten at the same time and thrust forward first his right arm, then his left. As the alchemist fell towards the floor, two bricks flew over him. He heard them strike the woman behind him, one making a crunching sound, the other crackling. A flash of red accompanied the crackle.

As he struck the floor, the breath was hammered from Baruk's lungs. Agonized seconds passed as he struggled to draw air into his tortured chest. He rolled on to his back. Vorcan, he saw, lay motionless almost against his feet. The boy's face came into view, streaked with sweat, brow furrowed with concern.

'Alchemist Baruk?' he asked.

The man nodded.

The boy sighed, then grinned. 'You're alive. Good. Rallick sent me to warn you.'

Baruk sat up. 'The witch,' he said hoarsely. He pointed. 'Tend to her, please.'

He felt his strength returning as he watched the boy crouch beside Derudan.

'She's breathing,' Crokus announced. 'There's some kind of knife in her, looks like it's covered in sap.' He reached down to touch it.

'No!' Baruk shouted.

Crokus jumped back in alarm.

'Poison,' the alchemist said, climbing to his feet. 'Help me to her, quickly.' A moment later he knelt beside Derudan. A quick glance at the sap-like substance coating the blade confirmed his suspicion. 'White paralt,' he said.

'That's a spider, isn't it?'

Baruk laid a hand on Derudan. 'Your knowledge surprises me, boy,' he said. 'Fortunately, she's in the home of the one man who possesses its antidote.' He muttered something and a phial appeared in his hand.

'Rallick said there was no antidote to white paralt.'

'It's not something I'm likely to announce.' Baruk unstoppered the phial and poured the contents down the witch's throat, triggering a coughing fit. As Derudan's breathing became even, Baruk leaned back and eyed Crokus. 'You seem well acquainted with Rallick. What's your name?'

'Crokus. Mammot was my uncle, sir. I saw him die.'

Derudan's eyelids flickered, then opened. She smiled lazily. 'What I see pleases me,' she said weakly. 'Yes?'

Baruk returned the smile. 'Yes, my friend. But I make no claim for defeating Vorcan. That falls to Crokus, nephew of Mammot.'

Derudan's gaze swung to the youth. 'Ah, the one I came near to treading on earlier this evening.' The amusement left her expression. 'I am sorry for Mammot, child.'

'So am I,' he replied.