'Most worthy healer,' he said, 'you are released to whatever the future holds for you. May the gods dispense justice upon you, balancing your virtues against your sins.'

'-So he does remember!' thought Stulwig, gratefully.

Surprisingly, after he had been escorted outside, Stulwig knew at once which was the proper place for him to go. Many times he had been confronted by grief or guilt, or the hopelessness of a slighted lover, or a betrayed wife. For none of these had his herbs ever accomplished more than a passing moment of sleep or unconsciousness.

So now, as he entered the Vulgar Unicorn, he muttered under his breath the bitter advice he had given on those special occasions for what his father had called ailments of the spirit. The words, heard only by himself, were: 'What you need, Alten, is a good stiff drink.' It was the ancient prescription for calming the overwrought or the overemotional. In its fashion, however, liquor in fact was a concoction of brewed herbs, and so within his purview.

The smell of the inn was already in his nostrils. The dimly lit interior blanked his vision. But Stulwig could see sufficiently well so that he was aware of vague figures sitting at tables, and of the gleam of polished wood. He sniffed the mingling odours of hot food cooking. And already felt better.

And he knew this interior sufficiently well. So he strode forwards confidently towards the dividing barrier where the brew was normally dispensed. And he had his lips parted to give his order when his eyes, more accustomed to the light, saw who it was that was taking the orders.

''One-Thumb!' The name was almost torn out of his lips; so great was his surprise and delight.

Eagerly, he reached forwards and grasped the other's thick hand. 'My friend, you had us all worried. You have been absent-' He stopped, confused. Because the time involved even for a long journey was long. Much more than a year. He finished his greeting with a gulp, 'You are right welcome, sir.'

The owner of the Vulgar Unicorn had become more visible with each passing moment. So that when he gestured with one of his big hands at a helper, Stulwig perceived the entire action; even saw the youth turn and come over.

The roly-poly but rugged One-Thumb indicated a table in one corner. ' Bring two cups of brew thither for my friend and myself,' he said. To Alten he added, 'I would have words with you, sir.'

So there they sat presently. And, after several sips, One-Thumb said, 'I shall say quickly what need be said. Alten, I must confess that I am not the real One Thumb. I came because, with my sorcerer's seeing, when this past noon hour my body took on the form at which you are gazing, I had a visitor who informed me that the transformation to a known person related to you.'

It was a long explanation. Long enough for Stulwig to have a variety of reactions. First, amazement. Then, progressively, various puzzlements. And, finally, tentative comprehension, and acceptance.

And since he held a drink in his hand, he raised it, and said, 'To the real One Thumb, wherever he may be.'

With that, still thinking hard as to what he could gain from this meeting, he sipped from his cup; took a goodly quaff from it, and set it down. All the while noticing that the other did not drink to the toast.

The false One-Thumb said unhappily, 'My seeing tells me that the real One-Thumb is in some strange location. It is not quite clear that he is still dead; but he was killed.'

Up came Stulwig's glass. 'Very well, then, to Enas Yorl, the sorcerer, who in whatever shape seems to be willing to be my friend.'

This time the other man's cup came up slowly. He sipped. 'I suppose,' he said, 'no one can refuse to drink to himself; since my motives are worthy I shall do so.'

Stulwig's mind was nickering again with the meanings of what had been said in that long explanation. So, now, he asked the basic question: 'Enas,' he mumbled, 'in what way does your being in One-Thumb's body shape relate to me?'

The fleshy head nodded. 'Pay careful heed,' said the voice of One-Thumb. 'The goddess Azyuna appeared to me as I was experiencing the anguish of changing form, and asked me to give you this message. You must go home before dark. But do not this night admit to your quarters any person who has the outward appearance of a man. Do this no matter how pitifully he begs for a healer's assistance, or how many pieces of gold he is prepared to pay. Tonight, direct all male visitors to other healers.'

It took a while to drink to that, and to wonder about it aloud. And, of course, as Sanctuarites, they discussed once more the story of Azyuna. How Vashanka had discovered that she (his sister) and his ten brothers had plotted to murder the father-god ofRanke, Savankala. Whereupon, Vashanka in his rage slew all ten of the brothers; but his sister he reserved for a worse fate. She became his unwilling mistress. And at times when the winds moaned and sobbed, it was said that Azyuna was again being forced to pay the price of her intended betrayal of her parents.

And now she had come down from heaven to warn a mere human being against the brother who exacted that shame from her. '

'How,' asked Stulwig, after he had quaffed most of a second cup and had accordingly reached a philosophical state of mind, 'would you, old wise Enas Yorl, explain why a goddess would take the trouble to warn a human being against some scheme of her god-brother-lover?'

'Because,' was the reply, 'she may be a goddess but she is also a woman. And as all men know, women get even in strange ways.'

At that, Stulwig, remembering certain experiences of his own, shuddered a little, nodded agreement, and said, 'I estimate that we have been imbibing for a goodly time, and so perhaps I had better take heed of your warning, and depart. Perhaps, there is something I can do for you. A fee, perhaps.'

'Make it one free visit when one of my changing shapes be-cometh ill.'

'But not this night.' Stulwig stood up, somewhat lightheaded, and was even able to smile at his small jest.

'No, not this night,' agreed One-Thumb, also standing up. The big man added quickly, 'I shall appear to accompany you to the door as if to bid you goodbye. But in fact I shall go out with you.

And so One-Thumb will vanish once more, perhaps this time forever.'

'He has done nobly this day,' said Stulwig. Whereupon he raised the almost empty third cup, and said, 'To the spirit of One-Thumb, wherever it may be, my good wishes.'

As it developed, Enas Yorl's plan of escape was made easy. Because as they emerged from the inn there, coming up, was a small company of Rankan military led by a Hell Hound. The latter, a man named Quag, middle-aged, but with a prideful bearing, said to Stulwig, 'Word came to his highness that you were imbibing heavily; and so he has sent me and this company to escort you to your residence.'

Stulwig turned to bid farewell to the false One-Thumb. And at once observed that no such person was in sight. Quag seemed to feel that he was surprised. 'He went around that corner.' He indicated with his thumb. 'Shall we pursue him?'

'No, no.'

It was no problem at all for a man with three cups of brew in him to step forwards, and walk beside a Hell Hound like an equal.

And to say, 'I'm somewhat surprised at his highness taking all this trouble for a person not of Ranke birth, or-' daringly -'religion.'

Quag was calm, seemingly unoffended. 'These are not matters about which I am qualified to have an opinion.'

'Of course,' Stulwig continued with a frown, 'getting me back to my quarters could place me in a location where the mighty Vashanka could most easily find me.'