The healer was an old man, wearing a white robe that covered his torso over his tunic and slacks. He pulled a small bag out of the saddle bag and then walked behind Tasha with a grimace on his face. "This better be quick," he murmured. "I don't have time."

Tasha glanced at him, giving him a sharp look. She snapped, "There is a life at stake. I hope you understand that the prisoner we are talking about is one of the most important prisoners in the kingdom of Silver Vales. There is a reason why the king has put him in house arrest and not in the common jails for other criminals." 

The healer swallowed his fear at the mention of the king, but he shrugged. "You are pretty concerned for him, but I am not," he accused her. "So, please hurry up!" 

Tasha gritted her teeth. She didn't reply to him for she knew that her words came out as more of a concern than a reprimand. She took the healer inside the house. The main room was empty but one could hear muffled whimpering from the bedroom inside. 

When Tasha opened the bedroom door, she allowed the healer to get in first. He shuddered at what he saw in front of him. Murtagh was lying on the bed, his right hand over his forehead and his left hand sprawled on the sheet where the blood had pooled. The sheet was soaked in his blood. The man was muttering something incomprehensible, as if in delirium. The healer rushed to him and barked at Tasha, "Get water and fresh linen and towel." He picked up Murtagh's wrist. The blood puddled in his hand. His body was hot. Tasha had told him that Murtagh had sliced his wrist with a poison tipped knife. Perhaps that was the reason why his body was hot. 

When the healer picked up his hand, Murtagh removed his hand from his forehead to look at him. His eyes were bloodshot and he muttered more curses beneath his breath. 

Tasha came inside the room with water and towels and fresh linen. Her face was etched with lines of worries. "Will he be fine?" she asked.

The healer didn't reply to her, instead he took the towel, dunked it in cold water and then applied it over Murtagh's wrist. "Open my bag," he instructed Tasha. When she opened it, he said, "Take out the green potion and the orange one." She took out two small bottles of the potions. "There is yarrow, dittany and some moly. Grind them and mix them in the potion. Pour it in a cup with cold water and bring it here." 

Tasha rushed to the kitchen with the herbs and dried flowers and came back soon after. The healer pointed with his chin to make Murtagh drink it. She gave the cup to Murtagh and made him drink the potion forcibly. He drank it, sputtering a little and cursing more. By that time, the healer had stopped the blood from flowing and was cleaning the wound. He applied some more green paste over his wrist and then tied clean linen over it. 

Murtagh gazed at the healer with heavy lidded eyes as Tasha cleaned him up. His gaze fell on Tasha and when their eyes locked, he gave her a smile. She bit her lip and then smiled back. She removed her gaze from Murtagh and looked at the healer who was busy tying the fresh linen on his wrist. Murtagh closed his eyes. 

When everything was done, the healer helped Tasha to clean up the mess and lay fresh bed sheets. Not only that he helped Murtagh wear cleaner clothes. Though when he was coming to treat Murtagh, he wasn't too happy about it, but because he saw the written consent from the General himself, he was forced to come. And when he saw Murtagh in a horrible state with blood pooled around his hips and thighs and belly, his stomach flipped. 

"I think he is better now," said the healer as he came out of the bathroom after washing his hands. 

Tasha checked Murtagh's forehead with the back of her palm. "He still has a fever."

"That would go in a few hours. I think the poison that he used wasn't that potent, so you needn't worry. He will be fine soon." He started packing his medicine bag. "I will make a move. Keep him well hydrated throughout the night and don't leave his side. If you feel you need me again, you can send a guard to call me."

"But can you at least stay back for an hour?" Tasha urged. "I am not sure how this works and I am nervous tending him alone." She said with a panicky expression on her face. Her clothes were stained with blood and potion and herbal paste. There were beads of sweat on her face. 

"I have to go…" the healer murmured, half sure of whether he should go or not. Moreover, her panic affected him.

"But Murtagh is not just any prisoner. What if something happens to him and I am not able to handle it?" she said, flicking a gaze to Murtagh. 

The healer let out an exasperated sigh. It was already too dark in the night and he had to go to Level three where his house was. He tilted his head and stared at Murtagh. The man was sleeping because of the effect of the healing potion. He contemplated staying back. 

"Please, you just can't leave him like that. At least stay for one more hour and then you may leave," she pushed him. "I will have to report this to the General in the morning." 

The healer pursed his lips in a thin line. She was right. He should stay back. He nodded with reluctance and said, "I am very tired. So, I will go and rest in the main room and catch some sleep. Please give me a blanket."

She nodded eagerly. "I will make some tea for you, if you like," she offered.

"Yes, that would be very kind of you," replied the healer. He strapped his bag, picked it up and then walked to the main room where he set aside his bag and perched on the large sofa. Just an hour, and he would be on his way home. His gaze fell on the door that was still ajar and he saw that Murtagh was in deep sleep. His breathing was steady. Tasha had gone to the bathroom. When she came out, she was wearing fresh clothes and that surprised him. How come she had an extra pair of clothes in this house? He swallowed his surprise down and then lifted his feet on the sofa. Just an hour more and he would leave. 

Tasha came out of the kitchen with tea and a tray of chocolate pastries. "I thought you would be hungry," she said with a smile. 

He liked her concern. He picked up the tea and sipped it. "Thanks," he murmured. The pastries were delicious. They melted in his mouth. "Who has made these?" 

"Murtagh," Tasha replied as she surveyed his face intently. "He is a great cook." 

"I see…" The healer picked up one more pastry and had it soon.. He was famished. 

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