Fand’s skin was on fire. Her stomach cramped. No not again. She leaned the edge of her cot and vomited into a basin. Her throat stung. Violent shakes took hold of her. Her teeth rattled. She was going to die any second now and it would not be soon enough. She threw up again. With gentle hands, Resen stroked her hair. He put a cooling cloth on her feverish forehead. When she didn’t throw up any more, he helped her stretch out on her cot.

Through chattering teeth Fand asked, “How much longer till I’m dead?”

Resen smiled down at her. “You are not dying. Bruel believes the poison that was done to you is coming out. Look at your hands.” He took her hands. “See.”

Fand looked. They no longer glowed. He eyes went back to Resen. His face was covered in scratches she had clawed into his face during the night. He had held her firmly pressed against him no matter how hard she had fought or struck out at him. Last night had been awful. It had been as if the poison in her knew it was running out of time. It had pushed her into such spasms of longing and rage. She dropped her eyes and said, “I am sorry.”

Still holding her hands, Resen said, “For what?”

“Your face, your arms…”

He let go of her hands and tilted her face up. “Look at me.”

She shook her head.

“Please.”

Fand met his eyes.

Gently he said, “These scratches and bruises are not your fault. It was the poison not you. With Bruel’s salve, I will be my handsome self in no time.”

A fresh wave of nausea jolted through Fand's body.

Resen thrust her head over the basin. Nothing came out but she couldn’t stop heaving. Her body seemed locked in perpetual motion. Resen put the basin down and gathered her in his arms. He murmured, “Think Fand. Think of what you have to be thankful for. Speak each out loud."

Against his chest, through chattering teeth, she said, “I am alive and so is Uncle Wert.”

Resen pulled her closer. “Yes, You are also free. By some miracle you managed what no one else has ever managed to do." By the tone of his voice, Fand knew he wanted her to give him information she would not share. The disc had jettisoned her out of the spire. She had never told him how she had escaped the spire on her own. When she did not respond he said, "It was providential I was there to catch you."

"It was.” Truly it was. If he had not been there to catch her, where would she be now? Dead or much, much worse. She hesitated before she said, "I am thankful for you. Without you I would not have made it safely to here."

Resen asked, "I am thankful I was able to get you here. I have been sent on a few missions to Kammin Spire and I have never succeeded. Did you see any other women there or children?"

"The only people I saw were Kerzee my caretaker and her father, Folgen."

Resen asked, "Did you hear the name Talbot?"

In that moment she remembered the terrible screams she had heard when she first awoke inside Kerzee’s rooms below the in the spire. It had been a woman screaming. It was a terrible sound. Kerzee had said, the name Talbot. The stupor of the potion Fand had been given, had blurred all thought and memory. Another memory rose to the surface. It was that of a body being carried out of the room. There had been a terrible stench. Had Kerzee finally poisoned the woman? Had Angs seed killed her? Fresh nausea swept over Fand as she realized once again, That could have been me. She gagged. Resen grabbed the basin. Again the heaving. Again, nothing came up. She eased herself back down and weakly and finally said, “The woman named Kerzee said her name once. “I saw a dead body. I think it was her.”

Sadness filled Resen’s eyes as he said, "Probably so."

"Did you know her?"

"No, but I did try to save her when she first entered. I was never able to get in. This time, was the first time, I ever succeeded in scaling the wall.”

*

Two morning’s later, Fand awoke after a full night of sleep. She had not been sick even once. When she held her arms up they did not glow. Was the poison finally out of her?

On the floor beside her cot was Resen’s pallet. He was soundly sleeping. Good, he deserved a deep rest after the hell she had put him through.

After breakfast, Bruel took Fand down to the cellar. She closed the hatch behind her and blew out the candle. “I need you to undress. I need to see if the poison has fully left you.”

“All right.” Fear clenched at Fand’s stomach. What if the poison wasn’t gone, what if it never entirely left her? She took off her clothes. In the complete darkness of the cellar, she stood naked and chilled. Bruel examined her carefully and finally said, “I don’t see any glow any where. My prayer is that the poison is all gone. How do you feel?”

“Weak, but lucid. I have not had any cravings for Angs.”

”That is a good sign, but you must be careful. Do not be out alone in moon light. Promise me.”

The moon had once been her best friend, and now, now she was the mistress of Angs’ evil. “I promise.”

“Good, get dressed.” Bruel lit a candle without any tender or flint. She set it on the low table beside Fand’s cot and went up the ladder.”

On the cot was a pair of britches and a tunic that were too large. They must be cast offs of Bruel’s husband Georg. Quickly Fand dressed and went the ladder. As soon as she was up, Resen closed the trap door and slid the cupboard over it.

Bruel said, “Come to the window, I need to look at your eyes.”

Fand did as she was bid. Bruel tilted her head up and slowly looked into her eyes. There was power in this old woman, she could feel it. Bruel said, “They look clear.” To Resen she said, “I think its too soon to be leaving. One good night’s sleep is not enough and you know it.”

The muscle in Resen’s jaw flexed. In the light coming through the window, his skin looked like smooth milled walnut. In a firm voice he said, “She is not safe here. We must get moving.”

Bruel clucked her tongue but did not argue.

Within the hour, Fand was once again in a potato sack with a few other potato sacks for company. Resen, dressed like a farmer drove Bruel's two wheel cart and her pony. Though the ride was bumpy and Fand’s body grew cramped, she was just so thankful to be outside. The sun was warm but not hot. Through the weave of the sack she could make out the blue of the sky. There were much worse things than being in a potato sack.

When it grew dark, the cart turned off the hard dirt road and headed down a sandy path. In the distance was the bleat of sheep and the crow of a rooster. The cart drove into a barn. A horse snorted. It sounded big. Resen said, “There now Donner. I'm back.” The horse nickered.

A man’s voice said, “Aye and praise the Keeper. That damned horse has been mourning you like you was dead. Nothing I did suited him.”

The cart swayed when Resen leapt off it.

The man said, “So I take it you didn’t succeed.”

Fand heard Resen’s feet make their way to the back of the cart. He undid the string and said, "Look." Fand poked her head out. He smiled at her.

The stocky man’s eyes grew wide when he saw her. He whistled and said, “Keeper, you did it? How?”

Resen didn’t answer. He couldn’t because he didn’t know. He lifted Fand to the ground and held onto her. The barn seemed to sway. She saw a huge black horse. He was looking intently at Resen. Her legs trembled. She pressed her face against Resen's shoulder and prayed she would not be sick or faint.

Resen asked, “Have the Sonpur been through here?”

"Nay,” said the man. “Still, we best get her below."

"Yes." Resen slung his pack on his shoulder and scooped her up. He followed the man into a stall. The man pulled a manger off its supports. It opened into a narrow opening. The top of a ladder protruded from the hole.

Fand looked down. A faint light flickered below. Climb down? Spend another night below earth. She could not do it. She turned tear filled eyes to Resen.

He said, “You can do this.”

Could she?

He put her down, swung his legs over the manger and stepped down the ladder. He extended his hands to her. "Come." Fand gripped the ladder. The man helped her swing her legs over. With Resen beneath her, she began her downward descent. The tunnel seemed to widen. It ended in a very small stone room that smelled of mice. The smell and closeness of the space sent a wave of nausea through Fand. When she stepped off the last rung, her knees buckled. Resen caught hold of her before she fell. Gently he settled her down in the hay. From his pack he pulled a crock. "A little of Bruel's gruel will help." He handed her the crock. Carefully, she took a sip. Just one, it was all she could manage.

Resen said, “Focus on the flame of the candle.”

The light wavered and danced. In a low voice Resen began to recite a prayer of protection. The words wrapped around her. The Keeper was listening. He knew where she was. He had gotten her thus far. She was safe, she was not glowing, and she was with Resen. It was enough.