‘He’s just trying to protect you – your soul as well as your person.’

‘Are you trying to be funny?’

He decided not to answer that.

The grounds of the University of Borrata were park-like, and students and members of the faculty strolled contemplatively across the well-kept lawns.

Sparhawk stopped a young man in a lime-green doublet. ‘Excuse me, neighbour,’ he said, ‘but could you direct me to the medical college?’

‘Are you ill?’

‘No. A friend of mine is though.’

‘Ah. The physicians occupy that building over there.’ The student pointed at a squat-looking structure made of grey stone.

Thank you, neighbour.’

‘I hope your friend gets better soon.’

‘So do we.’

When they entered the building, they encountered a rotund man in a black robe.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ Sephrenia said to him. ‘Are you a physician?

‘I am.’

‘Splendid. Have you a few moments?’

The rotund man had been looking closely at Sparhawk. ‘Sorry,’ he said curtly. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Could you direct us to one of your colleagues, then?’

‘Try any door,’ he said, waving his hand and walking quickly away from them.

‘That’s an odd attitude for a healer,’ Sparhawk said.

‘Every profession attracts its share of louts,’ she replied.

They crossed the antechamber and Sparhawk rapped on a dark-painted door.

‘What is it?’ a weary voice said.

‘We need to consult a physician.’

There was a long pause. ‘Oh, all right,’ the weary voice replied, ‘come in.’

Sparhawk opened the door and held it for Sephrenia.

The man seated behind the cluttered desk in the cubicle had deep circles beneath his eyes, and it appeared that he had forgone shaving some weeks ago. ‘What is the nature of your illness?’ he asked Sephrenia in a voice hovering on exhaustion.

‘I’m not the one who’s ill,’ she replied.

‘Him, then?’ The doctor pointed at Sparhawk. ‘He looks robust enough to me.’

‘No,‘ she said. ‘He’s not ill either. We’re here on behalf of a friend.’

‘I don’t go to people’s houses.’

‘We weren’t asking you to do that,’ Sparhawk said.

‘Our friend lives some distance away,’ Sephrenia said. ‘We thought that if we described her symptoms to you, you might be able to hazard a guess as to the cause of her malady.’

‘I don’t make guesses,’ he told her shortly. ‘What are the symptoms?’

‘Much like those of the falling-sickness,’ Sephrenia told him.

That’s it, then. You’ve already made the diagnosis yourself.’

There’s a certain difference, however.’

‘All right. Describe the differences.’

There’s a fever involved – quite a high one – and profuse sweating.’

These two don’t match, little lady. With a fever, the skin is dry.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Have you a medical background?’

‘I’m familiar with certain folk remedies.’

He snorted. ‘My experience tells me that folk remedies kill more than they cure. What other symptoms did you notice?’

Sephrenia meticulously described the illness that had rendered Ehlana comatose.