“Some, my lady,” and Lacey turned to the basket they had brought and began to sort through it.
Burrich turned to me. “Are those pots from my room?”
At my nod, he nodded in return. “I thought so. That fat little brown one. Bring it here.”
He took it from my hands and lifted the stopper from its mouth. “This. I had some of this, when I set out from Buckkeep, but it was lost with the pack animals, during the first ambush.”
“What is it?” Patience asked. She came, devil’s-club root in hand, to gaze curiously.
“Chickweed and plantain leaves. Simmered in oil, then worked with beeswax into a salve.”
“That should work well,” she conceded. “After the root poultice. “
I braced myself for his argument, but he only nodded. He suddenly looked very tired. He leaned back and pulled the blanket more closely about himself. His eyes sagged shut.
There was a knock at my door. I went to answer it, and found Kettricken standing there, with Rosemary at her elbow. “One of my ladies told me there was a rumor Burrich had returned,” she began. Then she looked past me into the room. “It’s true, then. And he’s hurt? What of my lord, oh, what of Verity?” She went suddenly paler than I thought she could be.
“He’s fine,” I reassured her. “Come in.” I cursed myself for my thoughtlessness. I should have sent word to her immediately of Burrich’s return and of the tidings he carried. I should have known that otherwise she would not be told. As she entered, Patience and Lacey looked up from the devil’s-club root they were steaming to welcome her with quick curtsies and murmurs of greeting.