“We’ve heard nothing. What happened? Why are you back?”
He looked around at the gaping stable boys, and something of the Burrich I knew came into his eyes again. “If you have not heard yet, then it is not for gossip and common talk. I must go straight to the King.” He drew himself up straight, looked around again at the boys and grooms. The old whiplash was back in his voice as he demanded, “Have you no work to do? I shall be looking over how you have cared for things in my absence as soon as I return from the Keep.”
Like fog in the sunlight, the workers dissipated. Burrich turned to Hands. “Would you care for my horse? Poor Ruddy’s been poorly treated these last days. Treat him well, now that he’s home.”
Hands nodded. “Of course. Shall I send for the healer? I could have him waiting here for you when you come back.”
Burrich shook his head. “What can be done for this, I can do for myself. Come, Fitz. Give me your arm.”
In disbelief, I offered my arm and Burrich took it, leaning on me heavily. For the first time I glanced down. What I had taken to be heavy winter leggings at first glance was actually a thick wrap of bandaging on his bad leg. He favored it, putting most of his weight on me as he limped along. I could feel the exhaustion thrumming through him. Up close, I could smell the sweat of pain on him. His clothing was stained and torn, his hands and face begrimed. This was as unlike the man I knew as anything I could imagine. “Please,” I said quietly as I helped him toward the castle. “Is Verity all right?”