With shaking fingers, he unfastened the buckles of his bag, emptied out the contents and began feverishly rummaging through them. With an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. With a growing conviction that nothing he possessed could cure Jutta or even help to relieve her suffering. That all his remedies contra malum were fit for nothing, that diacodia and electuar were fit for nothing, that sotira, antidota and panacea were fit for nothing. Artemisium, hypericum and serpillum were all fit for nothing; the butterbur, carline thistle and all the other medicines he carried around in his bag were fit for nothing.

Amulets, he thought, Telesma’s amulets. Not many are left. Gemma rutila, which can staunch bleeding. Venim from lapis-lazuli, effective against venomous bites… Aquila, eagle stone, which purifies the blood… But all of them should be used immediately and they cut her hours ago… The magical blood poisoning is spreading like lightning… Perhaps one of the amulets will work… God, make one of them work…

The amulets didn’t work. They were too weak. They had no chance of fighting what Jutta had been infected with.

Spells. He knew a few. Bent over, he recited the spells in turn, overcoming the growing dryness in his mouth. He made magical gestures and signs, fighting to overcome the trembling of his hands.

The spells didn’t work. Reynevan raised his eyes and hands.

“Magna Mater…” he mumbled. “O Mother of the Gods… You, the only one who defends and protects us… O Mother of the Sun, whose body is white from the milk of the stars! Elementorum omnium domina, O Lady of Creation, Provider for the World! O Guardian of the Sea and Sky, all the Gods and Powers, aeterne caritatis desideratissima filia, aeterne sapientie mater gratissima, sub umbra alarum tuarum protege nos. I humbly entreat you to give me the power of a medicine that will restore health. Save her, I beg you. Let her live.”

No miracle occurred.

Jutta began to choke and spit blood; it was also spurting powerfully from her nose now. He lifted her head and tilted it. And looked on powerlessly.

“How…” said Scharley, barely audibly. “How will she—”

“Her body will be destroyed from the inside.”

“How long will it—”

“A long time.”

“Reynevan…” said Jutta, suddenly seizing him by the hand. There was almost no strength left in her utterly dark blue fingers. “Reynevan,” she repeated almost lucidly. “I want… to go to the sunlight…”

They all hurried to help. Picked her up, carried her out of the barn and laid her down on a makeshift bed of cloaks. The sun wasn’t shining. There were low, leaden-grey clouds.

Once again, blood began streaming from her nose, and her blood-soaked hose testified to bleeding from the digestive tract and the reproductive organs. She began to be racked by convulsive shivers. She trembled for a long time.

They looked on helplessly.

“Reyne…” she said, spitting blood. “Reynevan…”

“I’m with you.”