I woke up with no clear idea of what had been dream and what had been real, if anything. My entire recall of the evening’s events had the same distance as events that had happened years ago. This was compounded by the open staircase with its beckoning yellow light and the draft from it chilling my room. I scrabbled out of bed, swayed for a moment as a wave of dizziness overtook me, and then slowly mounted the stairs, one hand always touching the cold stone wall to reassure myself that it was real. About midway up the steps, Chade came down to meet me. “Here, take my arm,” he commanded, and I did.
He put his free arm around me and we went up the stairs together. “I’ve missed you,” I told him. With my next breath, I told him, “King Shrewd is in danger.”
“I know. King Shrewd is always in danger.”
We gained the top of the stairwell. There was a fire in his hearth, and a meal set out next to it on a tray. He guided me toward both.
“I think I might have been poisoned today.” A sudden shivering ran up me and I shuddered all over. When it passed, I felt more alert. “I seem to be waking up in stages. I keep thinking I’m awake, and then suddenly everything is clearer.”
Chade nodded gravely. “I suspect it was the ash residue. You weren’t thinking when you tidied King Shrewd’s room for him. Many times the burned residue of an herb concentrates the potency of the herb. You got it all over your hands and then sat there eating pastries. There was little I could do. I thought you would sleep it off. What possessed you to go downstairs?”