I stood in the center of the room and looked around me. It had been months since I’d been here. Childhood memories came crowding back into my head. Hours spent before that hearth, mending or oiling harness. I’d used to sleep on a mat before the fire. Nosy, the first dog I’d ever bonded to. Burrich had taken him away, to try to break me of using the Wit. I shook my head at the flood of conflicting emotions, and quickly left the room.
The next door I knocked on was Patience’s. Lacey opened it and, at the look on my face, demanded immediately, “What’s wrong?”
“Burrich’s come back. He’s up in my room. He’s badly hurt. I don’t have much in the way of healing herbs-”
“Did you send for the healer?”
I hesitated. “Burrich has always liked to do things his own way.”
“Indeed he has.” It was Patience, entering the sitting room. “What’s that madman done to himself now? Is Prince Verity all right?”
“The Prince and his guard were attacked. The Prince was not harmed and has continued to the Mountains. He sent back those who were injured, with two sound men as an escort. Burrich was the only one to survive and get home.”
“Was the journey back so difficult?” Patience asked. Lacey was already moving about the room, gathering herbs and roots and materials for bandaging.
“It was cold and treacherous. Little hospitality was offered them along the way. But the men died when they were ambushed by archers, just across the Buck border. Burrich’s horse carried him off into a river. They were swept downstream quite a ways; it was probably the only thing that saved him.”