"There is nothing for him!" the doctor insisted.

How long Gershwin had been in this state was left to Gleb's best estimates. But they had only found him towards midday, which left him two hours in which to get into all sorts of complicated situations. And he had been lying in the doctor's office since they found him, three hours ago.

He was still ashen grey, panting, sweating, impossibly impossibly pale. His tight copper curls lay plastered and black against his forehead, and his face was contorted constantly in pain. Now and again, he choked and gagged on the pain, his body spasming until it cleared itself of the difficulty.

Gleb wasn't certain whether he felt worse for Gershwin, to whom these inexplicable things were occuring, or for Tem, to whom these inexplicable things could not be properly explained. There was little time for it, really, with every attack feeling as if it were coming right on top of each other.

The doctor had not had opportunity to rest in three hours, nor would he until this was resolved.

Gershwin winced and let out a sharp, rattling breath. The doctor turned a pale face between the three of them and looked as if he were seriously considering wetting himself. Gleb turned towards him, knife drawn, and a hand grabbed his wrist from the table.

Gleb turned, startled, stunned, to see Gershwin's sharp grey eyes peering out from exhausted, black-circled eyes. The tribesman peered at him with an intensity that tried to burn into his soul. He bore it as well as he could, but Gleb still felt his skin crawl because of it.

"Allay ch'hall umbaya," he said. The words were foreign, but the tone was desperate, dark, set on edges. He licked his lips, took a deep breath, steadied himself by digging his nails into Gleb's wrist. "Allay ch'hall umbaya," he repeated himself.

Gleb stared down at him. Tem looked up from the bench beside him, and the Runners' ears all perked towards him. Murar bore her teeth, her hackles rising in a sharp ridge of fur down her back. Gleb turned back to Gershwin, who tried one more time, the words fading on his lips as they swiftly began to fade blue.

"All... ch'...all... umb..."

Gleb stared at him, and even as his breathing faded into rhythmic rises and falls, Gershwin's harsh, calloused hand still did not release his wrist.

Gleb turned towards Tem expectantly. "Heard y'ever of such, Tem Raithcliff?"

Tem shook his head and scratched Murar behind her ears until she calmed at least a little. "We'll have to ask him when he wakes," Tem answered softly.

"Fantastic."

Janice, Feivel, and Kendra sat in the cell, waiting. The citizens had a lot to be worried about. Here were two proven witches and what for all intents and purposes could be called a familiar. Not only that, but there was a possible murderer -- definite murderer if you asked Janice -- posing as a high-ranking officer in their precious military. And while they were investigating General Liam Farrows, they were also investigating Agnes' elder sister, her husband, and their cohorts in a witchhunt against those who had instigated the witchhunts. And if they were deemed innocent, then they would try Marley, who was sitting, sulking, in the far cell.

It was a complicated set of things.

~Janice, we really need to work on your people skills,~ Kendra said despairingly.

Feivel was pacing the cell, his hands brushing against his ears, the bruises striking purple-black against his skin, which was paler than she'd ever seen it. She watched him as he walked, every muscle lithe and smooth, like a caged jaguar. She tried, but she couldn't tear her eyes from him as he walked, and Kendra continued to try tugging at various threads in her thoughts to get her attention back on her.

But there was none to be had. As long as Feivel kept pacing, Janice was content to keep watching him, unaware of anything else. He bore himself with such a simple nobility, Janice felt nothing but appreciation for his heroics. She knew that if he had not been such a troublesome opponent for General Farrows, then either she or Marley or both of them would have received the brutal treatment to be handed out.

Or at least, she guessed it. She had heard of such tactics before.

Suddenly, he stopped pacing long enough to lean against the bars between the two cells and start snarling what Janice could only guess were tribal curses at Marley, and Janice chose now to pay attention to what was going on.

Unfortunately, she was coming in in the middle of a one-sided argument, because Feivel was refusing to answer Marley's frustrations with more than the same two syllables over and over again, said in such quick succession that Janice couldn't determine just what it was he was saying.

She sighed and decided to pay attention to Kendra, who had stopped bothering her and was staring at the door. The little Saa did that quite a lot, now that Janice thought about it. She turned to follow her gaze, and the central judge from their trial descended the steps to their cells, alone and unarmed.

Marley and Feivel stopped venting their collective spleen long enough to stare, wide-eyed, at him as he walked down the stairs to their cells. "We found the bodies," he announced quietly. Feivel looked up sharply, mouth open to speak, but the judge beat him to it with a nod. "And the snakes," he added.

Janice rolled to a kneel, and Marley hurried across her cell with a bustling step. "What does this mean for us?" she asked.

"It means that I am inclined to believe your tribesman's story," he said. "And I am inclined to understand your oracle's reasons for speaking out and revealing herself. And I am inclined to believe your skills, at the very least, warrent your release, all three of you."

Marley sagged noticeably with a sigh.

"But," the judge continued. "I cannot allow you to walk free without the consent of the other judges, who are less inclined to believe your stories. Janice Menssersmith, you proved yourself well, but you went too far for some of their tastes. I can arrange something for you with your charming friend Lina," he said with a glint in his eyes that Janice couldn't quite read. "And through her alone will you escape. Your girls, Marley, are to be returned with clear heads. No sentance of yours will carry to them, and hopefully they shall return to a town freed from this vice-like grip of deceit and truer evil than I've ever seen."

"Lina?" Marley breathed.

The judge nodded. "I'll send her down shortly. She has some things to make your stays more comfortable, until our arrangements come to bear, at least. The guards have been instructed to let her pass freely." He smiled warmly. "Well. Until things have settled down, I suggest you calm yourselves and settle in. Best of luck to all of you."

He left, then several minutes later, the door opened, and Lina bustled in and down the stairs, bright smiles and slightly toussled hair. She bore parcels in which there were changes of clothes for all of them.

"Last I heard, he was sitting on the fence," Marley hissed as Lina passed Janice a silk for her face. "How did you get him to change his mind?"

Lina's hand faltered as she passed the silk through the bars, and Janice's hand brushed against hers, filling her mind momentarily with sweat and moans and breathless pants in the dark. She blinked her huge brown eyes at Lina, who looked away, blushing. Janice felt the pink stain on her cheeks, and quickly covered them with her silk as Lina cleared her throat and smiled brightly at her teacher.

"I just gave him something he wanted," she answered brightly.

Marley nodded, and that was the last time it came up. Janice could only be thankful.