Late that night he woke to worried voices in the hall. Moving as quietly as he could to the door, he stayed quieter than a mouse as he listened.
  The first voice was Sabrina’s. “She’s getting worse. The fever is rising, and she’s sweating.”
  The second voice was his father’s. “What can we do?”
  Helplessness entered her voice. “What we can do we have. We’re going to the healer tomorrow.”
  Alan heard enough. “No,” he said coming out the door. “I’m going to fetch her now.”
  Sabrina and his father looked surprised, they obviously thought him still asleep, but Alan took no notice. He gestured at the door.
  “This is getting worse every hour. Morning may be too late for her. I must go now.”
  “And hurry.” Sabrina urged, eyes bright with anxiety. “It’s not getting worse every hour, but every minute.”
  “Then there’s no time to delay.” Alan stated, spinning around to his room.
  “I’ll waken Stormy.” John rumbled. “She’ll be saddled and waiting outside the door.”
  Alan didn’t bother replying as he raced into his clothes and stomped into his boots. Grabbing a warm shirt, the nights were still cold despite the warming days; he flew down the stairs out the door where he found Stormy waiting for him.
  She pawed the ground when she saw him rushing out the door, worry marking her face. She barely waited long enough for him to get in the saddle before surging forward into a gallop, massive hooves thudding the ground with teeth-chattering force.
  That gallop in the night was the most frightening of Alan’s life. Branches blown into road by the storm made for a slippery surface, debris and nails could pierce her hooves, and a stray rock could send them tumbling; but they could not afford to slow. Every moment counted, and Alan urged her faster.
  The lamplight of the inn came emerged as a dim glow that turned into a soft pool of light at the door. Stormy pulled up short while Alan leaped up, momentum catapulting him up the steps and through the door with a thunderous crash. Ignoring the startled cries that came from the fire where townsfolk were warming themselves, he took the stairs two at a time until he reached the upper floor.
  Heads poked out of rooms and voices accosted him, demanding to know what had happened. Alan ignored them and ran down the halls.
  “Healer Jasmine! Where is the Healer?” he demanded loudly.
  “There! Last door at the end of the hall.” someone called, and he made for the rectangular door with its brass knob.
  “Healer! Healer! Mira burn you, open up!” Alan hammered his huge fist at the door. Shocked townsfolk could only stare at this seemingly madman, and Alan felt a stab of embarrassment and shock at his actions, but he continued on.
  Finally, the door opened and a rather pretty young woman peered at him with angry eyes.
  “What is the meaning of this?” Jasmine asked irritably. “Don’t you know?”
  “Healer Jasmine, you must come now! It’s Mary, she’s…she’s sick! You need to come now Alan babbled.
  Jasmine blinked at the onslaught of words and stepped back. It was then that Alan realized her robe was in disarray, she hadn’t donned a nightdress, and a lone breast stood proudly on her chest, bronze skin gleaming, and her hair hung in bedraggled rows. She had clearly just gotten out of her bath, and Alan felt his face flame, but he continued on.
  “She’s got the sleeping sickness, won’t wake up. She has a fever and a terrible cough and?”
  “All right.” Jasmine said loudly, cutting him off. Alan felt the fool, and he closed his mouth with a click. “I will need a minute to dress and gather my herbs, and then we can go.” She told him quietly. She closed the door with a firm snap, and Alan was left alone with the sympathetic villagers.
  Alan felt like a caged swamp cat, wanting to pace and howl at her to hurry. He barely noticed the villagers’ sympathetic murmurs and claps on the back. They were stunned when he didn’t reply; he had always had a kind word in the past no matter the situation, but said nothing of it. It was clear he was deeply worried and they gave him room, but he couldn’t help but wonder if they saw his fear and guilt about not summoning the healer earlier.
  It seemed an eternity before Jasmine stepped back out of the room. Her figure encased in a traveling cloak of deep emerald and hemmed with the golden twined serpents and staff of her office. She had a large bag on her hip, and bulges under the wrap suggested more pouches on her belt.
  Hurriedly they went outside where they found Stormy, practically prancing with anxiety. She stilled only long enough for them to swing up on her back, Jasmine in front and Alan holding on behind, before running back through the dark.
  The lights were burning in the windows of the house when Stormy carried them into the yard. Sliding off her back, Jasmine went hurrying inside while Alan busied himself unsaddling Stormy, cooling her off, and brushing the foam from her hide. He walked the tired centaur to her room and closed the door.
  “Mary will alright, won’t she Alan?” Stormy mumbled, eyes opening briefly as he tucked her into her bed.
  “Jasmine is with her now.” Alan forced a smile onto his face. “She’s the finest healer in the land. Mary will be up and smiling by morning. Just you wait and see.”
  “All right…yawn…good night.” Stormy slumped onto her pillow and slid into slumber.
  Alan crept out of the room as quiet as a mouse, shutting the door with thump. In the sitting room he found his father sitting in front of the fire, puffing worriedly on his pipe, filling the air with the sweet smell of his tobacco. Alan went to sit beside him, not saying a word, and together they stared at the fire while they listened to the muffled voices upstairs.
  The firelight danced and flickered. Alan felt his eyes get heavy and fought sleep. I hope Mary will be all right. She’s just got to get better. Alan wondered if the disease would be gone with nothing to mark its passage, or if it would leave her bedridden. The last time that had happen the woman had not lived very long afterwards. Don’t be a goose. Jasmine won’t let that happen. It’s as you told Stormy, Mary will be up and about in the morning, laughing at your worry and chattering like a magpie. You’ll see. Alan felt a yawn slip through his teeth and shut them firmly, determined not to let another out. He watched the flames and pretended he could see patterns and figures dancing around.
 
  Alan jerked awake at a touch. He looked into the face of his sister, who clucked over him.
  “Have you and pa been sleeping here all night?” she asked amusedly.
  On the other side of her Alan could see John just getting up out of his chair, chagrined. Alan felt his own cheeks heat, and after all that promising not to go to sleep too! He jerked his eyes to Sabrina’s face, seeking the answer.
  At the shake of her head, Alan uttered a groan. It wasn’t possible! After all his praying and hoping, it wasn’t fair. Get ahold of yourself. Life has never been fair, and acting like a child isn’t going to get your way. You might as well try to figure out something useful to do. Alan scolded himself.
  He stood from the chair and stretched. “Does Jasmine hold any hope?” he asked quietly.
  Sabrina looked downcast. “She says so, but I’ve seen the way she looks at Mary. It fills me with dread.” She confessed.
  “It should.” came a tired voice from the doorway. Alan turned and saw Jasmine framed there, looking at them with sad eyes.
  “What is it, Jasmine?” John asked gruffly.
  “I’m not sure” she replied honestly. “I’ve only seen this kind of sickness once before, when I was an apprentice in Boulderton, and the patient in that case died without ever waking up, despite all we could do.”
  “How did she get sick?” John asked slowly.
  Jasmine shook her head in a puzzled manner. “To that, I have no clue. There are no sores or marks on her body, or cuts that have gotten infected. According to Alice she has been eating well until last night. Has she drunk regularly?”
  “I can answer that,” Sabrina said. “She has been, especially yesterday when we were hauling all that water.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “There was a time, however, when she drank straight from a standing pool.” she said slowly. “I chided her at the time, and she called me an old woman like mother. I thought nothing of it.”
  Jasmine nodded. “Like as not she got poisoned from the water. Standing water is dangerous, especially after the storms like we just had.”
  Sabrina turned away. Alan glimpsed guilt on her face, and knew she was blaming herself. He had to change the conversation.
  “What can we do about it?” he asked. “There must be something we can do.”
  Jasmine sighed. “I don’t know. I just don’t have the skill to save her, and I don’t think there is anyone in the land that does.” She paused a moment. “No one human, at least.” she said slowly, as if chewing on some thought before speaking.
  “What do you mean?” Alan demanded, he didn’t want to be led around and her considering tone was making him nervous. He was half-sure he didn’t want to hear what she was about to suggest.
  Jasmine looked at him long and hard before saying simply, “The Pa’grund.”
  “THE PA’GRUND!” John thundered, his voice shivering the walls. “Why not suggest the Dark Lord while you’re at it?”
  Jasmine blinked. “The Pa’grund are despicable” she agreed, “however, they also have medicines beyond anything we possess. I have seen them save a person, even though all the healers in the land had given up on him.”
  “For a ruddy fortune, I wager!” John snapped.
  “Yes.” Jasmine agreed reluctantly. “He had been a wealthy prince, at the time.”
  “See.” John snorted. “Even if we could go, we have no money to pay them.”
  “True.” Jasmine sighed. “It was a foolish notion. I will go and tend to my patient.”
  “Thank you.” John said more gently. “I’m sorry. You’re the best we have. If anyone can save her, it is you.”
  Jasmine did not look any more hopeful as she ascended the stairs again, John at her side. Alan stood there, thinking furiously.
  It was true he did not know much about the Pa’grund. They were shy and secretive, rarely coming off their plateau in the sky except to punish villages that had transgressed against them in some fashion. But it was said that if you could get them to agree to a bargain, they upheld it scrupulously. It was also said, that if they could find a way around the bargain they struck, they would do so. Legends told of them being able to fly, shoot weapons of light and heat, and cure the sick. They also, it was said, had a weakness for gems and baubles, the rarer the better. That train of thought brought him to the secret hoard he possessed in his forge.
  Swamp stones fetched a high market price, both for their rarity and deep luster when polished. They shone in the night like stars, with colors of fire and ice, blue sky and, the rarest of them all, fiery bands of gold and red in yellow that set it off. The villagers collected them to sell whenever they could find them, and kept the location of the best mines a secret.
  While not a miner, Alan had gone exploring in the swamps some years ago, and stumbled on a small trove of them, including three of the banded stones as large as his thumb. He and Tobias had split them evenly, with the exception of the banded ones which Alan kept two of, and had placed them in cloth bags. Alan, feeling wary, had buried his in the forge. This way, he could salt some behind whenever cash came up short, and he could have them on hand in case of a rainy day.
  And that day is today, he thought grimly. There was no doubt in his mind as to his course of action. He would be going to the Pa’grund as soon as he could gather all the supplies and set off. He would get a horse, Stormy could watch over the forge and the family well enough on her own, and perhaps Tobias as a traveling companion. Tobias is always itching for adventure. I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to go, Alan thought, and it would be nice to have a friend to watch my back in case I get into trouble.
  His mind made up, he quickly went to find him. He briefly thought of telling his father, but didn’t want an argument that would take up too much time. He would leave a note explaining everything instead.
  He found Tobias lounging near the inn, wiping sweat off his forehead and drinking a draft of cider as he watched the others pulling apart a house that had only partially come down.  
  “Hello.” Tobias said by way of greeting as Alan’s shadow fell across him. “Come to work? I thought you’d be spending the day at home.”
  “I’m going to see the Pa’grund, and I need your help.” Alan said without preamble.
  Tobias jerked upright. “Are you mad?” he hissed. “What in the name of Mira made you think of them?”
  “Jasmine.” Alan said grimly. “She told us she did not have the arts to save her, and that the Pa’grund might be able to.”
  Tobias shuddered. “The Pa’grund.” he whispered dreadfully. “It takes a desperate man to go to them, or so the legends say.” He forced a grin and a laugh. “Of course, I don’t believe the old goats and gammers. They’re wits are a little addled with age, don’t ya know.” He took on a more serious tone. “You’ll use the stones?” he whispered.
  “They’re all I have.” Alan said equally softly.
  “You mean all WE have.” Tobias whispered fiercely.
  Alan suppressed a grin and a shake of his head. Tobias was a lazy lout, a prankster who loved riddles and jokes, but whenever things got bad he was always there and willing to do anything for a friend.
  “All right.” He whispered. “We’ll need a couple of horses. I’m leaving Stormy to watch over dad and help around in the shop.” He added at Tobias’s questioning look. “And of course we’ll need…” they continued for more than an hour, discussing their plans, before Alan went back to the house.
  As he walked, he thought of the plan, sketchy as it was, and hoped against hope that it would work. After all, it was the only one he had, and if he failed, Mary would die.