Raith winced as the poultice began immediately bubbling, but he steeled himself to avoid flinching.  “I think your treatment might sting more than your knife could have,” he said.  “What is a marabout like you doing with a knife, anyway?  I thought your kind swore off violence.”

Shaking her head, Shandal wiped her hands on a dry burlap rag.  “The old ways don’t carry much water anymore, so to speak.  We don’t have the Land Walls to defend us anymore.  And it’s more than just the scorpions and the serpents who strike and spit venom here in the sands.

“Surely a Virgin Priestess has never killed a man,” said Raith.

His question went unanswered.