The elderly doctor leaned over him, closely examining the yellow-gold of his skin. ‘It is not the plague,’ he told Tarantio. ‘But I do not like his colour; it suggests the blood is bad. However, I have bled him and leeched him, and there is little more that I can do.’ ‘Will he live?’ The doctor shrugged his thin shoulders. ‘To be honest, young man, since I do not know what ails him I cannot say. I have seen yellow skin like this in patients before. Sometimes it indicates the kidneys are failing, at other times jaundice or yellow fever. In this case I do not know. You say the colour of his eyes was caused by the magicker, Ardlin. Were I you, I would seek out the magicker, and find out what he has done.’ ‘He left Corduin,’ said Tarantio. ‘As well he might. I have no time for magickers: a tricksy bunch, if you take my meaning. Now a man knows where he is with leeches. They suck out the vileness. Nothing magical there.’ Tarantio showed the man to the door, paid him, then returned to the bedside.
