Jenkins turned to Aguar. "How long has this gone on?"
"For days," the Moruan growled. "He can't speak. He grows hot and cannot eat. He moans until the Palace trembles."
"What about your own doctors?"
Aguar spat angrily on the floor. "They are jealous as cats until trouble comes. Then they hide in the caves like chickens. See the green flames? Death flames. They leave him here to die. But now that is all over. We have heard about you wizards from Hospital Earth. You cure all, the stories say. You are very wise, they say. You balance the humors and drive forth the spirits of the Pox like devils." He gave them a terrible grin and tightened his hand on the gold-encrusted sword. "Now we see."
"We can't promise," Jenkins began. "Sometimes we're called too late—but perhaps not in this case," he added hastily when he saw the Moruan's face. "Tenth Son and all that. But you'll have to give us freedom to work."
"What kind of freedom?"
"We'll need supplies and information from our ship. We'll have to consult your physicians. We'll need healthy Moruans to examine—"
"But you will cure him," Aguar said.
Jenkins took a deep breath and gripped his red tunic around his throat tightly. "Sure, sure," he said weakly. "You just watch us."