I looked around for the tunic so I could leave the room; not for worlds would I go out dressed thus into the midst of a lot of staring Renselaeus warriors. The terrible thought froze me for a moment, but then I looked down at that fire and realized that if Galdran had beaten us, I'd hardly be in such comfortable surroundings again. More likely I'd have woken in some dungeon somewhere, with clanking chains attached to every limb.
I held my head in my hands, trying to get the strength to stand; then my door opened, thrust by an impatient hand. Branaric stood there, grinning in surprise.
"You're awake! Healer said you'd likely sleep out the day."
I nodded slowly, eyeing his flushed cheeks and overbright eyes. His right arm rested in a sling. "You are also sick," I observed.
"Merrily so," he agreed, "but I cannot for the life of me keep still. Burn it! Truth to tell, I never thought I'd live to see this day."
"What day?" I asked, and then, narrowly, "We're not prisoners, are we? Where is Galdran?"
"Ash," Bran said with a laugh.
I gaped. "Dead?"
"Dead and burned, though no one shed a tear at his funeral fire. And you should have seen his minions scatter beforehand! The rest couldn't surrender fast enough!" He laughed again, then, "Ulp! Forgot. Want tea?"
"Oh yes," I said with enthusiasm. "I was just looking for my tunic. Or rather, the one I was wearing."
"Mud," he said succinctly. "Galdran smacked you off your horse and you landed flat in a mud puddle. Hold there!"
I sat down on the bunk again, questions swarming through my mind like angry bees.
Branaric was back in a moment, carefully carrying a brimming mug in his one good hand, and some folded cloth and a plain brown citizen's hat tucked under his arm. "Here ye are, sister," he said cheerily. "Let's celebrate."
I took the mug, and as he toasted me with a pretend one, I lifted mine to him and drank deeply. The listerblossom infusion flooded me from head to heels with soothing warmth. I sighed with relief, then said, "Now, tell me everything."
He chuckled and leaned against the door. "That's a comprehensive command! Where to begin?
I held my head in my hands, trying to get the strength to stand; then my door opened, thrust by an impatient hand. Branaric stood there, grinning in surprise.
"You're awake! Healer said you'd likely sleep out the day."
I nodded slowly, eyeing his flushed cheeks and overbright eyes. His right arm rested in a sling. "You are also sick," I observed.
"Merrily so," he agreed, "but I cannot for the life of me keep still. Burn it! Truth to tell, I never thought I'd live to see this day."
"What day?" I asked, and then, narrowly, "We're not prisoners, are we? Where is Galdran?"
"Ash," Bran said with a laugh.
I gaped. "Dead?"
"Dead and burned, though no one shed a tear at his funeral fire. And you should have seen his minions scatter beforehand! The rest couldn't surrender fast enough!" He laughed again, then, "Ulp! Forgot. Want tea?"
"Oh yes," I said with enthusiasm. "I was just looking for my tunic. Or rather, the one I was wearing."
"Mud," he said succinctly. "Galdran smacked you off your horse and you landed flat in a mud puddle. Hold there!"
I sat down on the bunk again, questions swarming through my mind like angry bees.
Branaric was back in a moment, carefully carrying a brimming mug in his one good hand, and some folded cloth and a plain brown citizen's hat tucked under his arm. "Here ye are, sister," he said cheerily. "Let's celebrate."
I took the mug, and as he toasted me with a pretend one, I lifted mine to him and drank deeply. The listerblossom infusion flooded me from head to heels with soothing warmth. I sighed with relief, then said, "Now, tell me everything."
He chuckled and leaned against the door. "That's a comprehensive command! Where to begin?
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Crown Duel ]
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