I stopped to think about it. “Yes.” I was warm, fed, and though I was tired, it was a good weariness, one that might be cured by simple sleep. I lifted my hand and looked at it. I could still feel the tremors, but they were no longer obvious to the eye. “Much better.” I stood, and found my legs steady under me.
“Now you’re fit to report to the King.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Now? Tonight? King Shrewd’s long abed. I won’t get past his door guard.”
“Perhaps not, and you should be grateful for that. But you must at least announce yourself there tonight. It’s the King’s decision as to when he will see you. If you’re turned away, then, you can go to bed. But I’ll wager that if King Shrewd turns you aside, King-in-Waiting Verity will still want a report. And probably right away.”
“Are you going back to the stables?”
“Of course.” He smiled in wolfish self-satisfaction. “Me, I’m just the stablemaster, Fitz. I have nothing to report. And I promised Hands I’d bring him something to eat.”
I watched silently as he loaded a platter. He sliced the bread lengthwise and covered two bowls of the hot stew with a slab of it, and then loaded a wedge of cheese and a thick slice of yellow butter onto the side of it.
“What do you think of Hands?”
“He’s a good lad,” Burrich said grudgingly.
“He’s more than that. You chose him to stay in the Mountain Kingdom and ride home with us, when you sent all the others back with the main caravan.”
“I needed someone steady. At that time you were … very ill. And I wasn’t much better, truth to tell.” He lifted a hand to a streak of white in his dark hair, testimony to the blow that had nearly killed him.