Skah was thrown to the floor of the prison cell. He stumbled and caught himself from crashing into the stone wall. The solid wood door slammed behind him.

Skah winced and held his stomach where the bandages were from his fight with Yuko. It had taken a lot of effort not to show how hurt he really was while traveling. That crazed Yuko character didn’t know when to stop.

The sound of an angry lowing came from an iron-grated window near the ceiling of his cell.

Skah pulled himself up to the ledge of the small window and looked through the gaps into the prison yard. The window was at ground level and a cart was parked in front of it, keeping the sun out of the cell. Two guards were attempting to pull Chase out of the prison’s gate unsuccessfully.

“Chase! Just go lie down in the straw will you?” Skah yelled.

The ox slowly turned, dragging the guardsmen with him to where a few horses were stabled. Chase found the empty stall, and still dragging the guardsmen, backed into it and lay down.

Disgusted, the guardsmen threw the ropes down and walked away. Chase flicked his ear amusedly.

Skah let himself down from the window after seeing Chase was alright. He inspected his new quarters. There was a wood board cot and a bucket. Oh, and the window. He nodded.

“Not bad.” He told himself.

He gently sat down on the cot and unwrapped his bandages to look at his wounds. The one on his side wasn’t much more than a small cut. The one in his stomach, however, was the real problem.

When he had moved to pursue Yuko, he felt his wound spread. It felt like his stomach was cracking. When he looked down after Yuko ran off, he found that was actually true. Cracks had spread out from the puncture point like a crumbling stone. Chips had even flaked off.

He had spent almost an hour thawing himself before he felt he could move again. He had used his sword to speed the process and had burned himself as well. Then he had to steal some clothes in town as the cracks and puncture point started bleeding.

He shook his head. Yuko had landed a more critical blow than he thought.

He removed the last bandages and revealed the healing cuts and burn blisters. He pursed his lips, then grinned wide. It would make one awesome-looking scar.

There was a clacking of keys at his door and it opened. Two guardsmen came in with swords drawn.

“Lie down!”

Skah raised his hands and complied.

The guards glanced nervously at the bizarre wound, then advanced into the room.

A man followed after them. He was dressed simply, but fashionably. He had graying hair and was carrying a bag.

Skah eyed the man. “Here to cast demons out of me?”

A guard came in with a stool and then left. The man put his bag on the ground and sat on the stool. “You’re no demon.” He said simply. “I’ve helped burn demons before and you don’t look like one.”

A light came into Skah’s eyes. “Maybe I’m a demon in disguise!”

The man thought a moment, then nodded. “We’ll find out.” He took something from his pack, a smaller bag, and took out a pinch of powder from it. “Open your mouth.”

“Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“I could put this in your eyes, ears or nose if you prefer.”

Skah opened his mouth.

The man reached out his hand.

Skah clamped his mouth shut.

The man sighed. “Don’t be a child. Take your medicine.”

“I can smell what that is. Its poison.”

The man sniffed it. He glanced at the guards and cleared his throat. He put the pinch of powder back in its bag and rummaged some more in his sack. Finally, he pulled out another bag, much like the first. He mumbled something about labeling them.

Skah grinned. “If I were a demon, raasdom weed would take care of the problem, but we’re trying to find out if I really am one, remember?” Skah eyed the new bag. “That had better be dried thut-ajen sap. Sap doesn’t make my stomach hurt.”

“Thut-ajen! I only reserve that for the worst cases!”

Skah shrugged. “We’ll be doubly sure then! Both me and you.”

The man nodded sagely and returned to his sack. He brought out a glass vial with a cork stopper and a translucent amber powder inside.

“Hold on!”

Skah looked at the man.

“How do you know all this?!”

“I’ve been accused of being a demon many, many times. I’ve become an expert!”

The man shook his head and took a pinch of the powder out.

Skah opened his mouth and let him sprinkle some in. He swished it around in his mouth a little, then nodded. “You have some good stuff.”

The man grunted and started cleaning up Skah’s wound.

Skah winced. “Why am I getting treatment? Normally-”

“We don’t care if you die in prison.” The man finished. “However, the royal family has requested to see you, so, we keep you alive by necessity.”

Skah grinned. “Oh, this sounds like fun!”

The man shook his head.

“Do I get to-”

“No.”

“When do I-”

“Can’t say.”

After a few moments of silence, Skah looked at the man. “Can I call you Raas?”

“No.”