"All right then, what causes it? Do you know? Bacteria? Virus? Degeneration?"
Silence.
Jenkins' face was pale. "Look, boys—your Boss out there is going to cool before long if something doesn't happen fast—" His eyes narrowed on Kiz. "Of course, that might be right up your alley—how about that? His Eminence bows out, somebody has to bow in, right? Maybe you, huh?"
Kiz began sputtering indignantly; the Red Doctor cut him off. "It adds up," he said heatedly. "You've got the power, you've got your magic and all. Maybe you were the boys that turned thumbs down so violently on the idea of a Hospital Earth Contract, eh? Couldn't risk having outsiders cutting in on your trade." Jenkins rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But somehow it seems to me you'd have a whale of a lot more power if you learned how to control this Pox."
Kiz stopped sputtering quite abruptly. He blinked at his confederates for a long moment. Then: "You're an idiot. It can't be done."
"Suppose it could."
"The Spirit of the Pox is too strong. Our most powerful spells make him laugh. He eats our powders and drinks our potions. Even the Iron Circle won't drive him out."
"Won't it, now! Well, we have iron needles and potions that eat the bottoms out of their jars. Suppose they drive him out?"
The Moruan was visibly shaken. He held a whispered conference with his henchmen. "You'll show us these things?" he asked suspiciously.
"I'll make a bargain," said Jenkins. "You give us a Contract, we give you the power—fair enough?"