“We are what we are,” Dain said. “I am not—”

“There is a belief, an old one,” the chevard broke in, “that the eldin sometimes carry our souls for us. Or the souls of our loved ones. Carried from the Beyond back into our world so that we can see them for a little while. Is that true?” Dain frowned. “I know not. I have never heard it.”

“You must know.”

“I was not raised among my people,” Dain said. “I do not know their ways.” The chevard’s intense stare never wavered. “Do you carry my son’s soul, Dain? Is that why you came here? So that I could see some part of him again for a time?” Dain’s frown deepened, for he felt uncomfortable with these odd questions. “I came out of need,” he said simply. “I lost my home and family. I had nowhere to go.”

He hesitated a long moment, and the chevard did not interrupt. Finally, the truth forced its way out: “I came to you,” Dain admitted, “because I knew you would fight the Bnen and defeat them. I wanted revenge for what they did to my sister and to Jorb.”

“Did I give you this revenge?” Lord Odfrey asked. “I do not remember.” “You did,” Dain said. He started to add that revenge had brought no comfort to his heart. He still missed Thia and Jorb, still hated the Bnen, still wanted everything put back as it had been. The dead did not erase the dead. But he felt it would be wrong to utter such feelings, and he held his tongue. “You fought them valiantly, lord, and you defeated them.”

The chevard rolled onto his back and moaned. “My face hurts like—Where is Sir Roye?”

His voice was growing stronger and more querulous. From his corner, Sir Roye snorted awake and sat upright.

“If you hurt,” Dain said, “I will fetch the physician to you.”

“Don’t want him,” Lord Odfrey said. “Want my breakfast. Want to sit up. Roye!

Damne, where are you?”

“Here, my lord,” Sir Roye said hastily, scrambling to his side. The protector scrubbed at his face with his hands, grinning at his master with a delight that transformed his craggy face. “You’re awake. Praise Thod!” “I hurt and I’m hungry,” Lord Odfrey said, pounding the bed weakly with one hand. “Why is it so dark in here? Why has the fire burned out? What stinks?  Dain!”

“Yes, lord?”

The chevard stared up at him with sudden horror. “Tell me the truth. Is my face infected with the rot?”

“Not yet,” Dain replied. “The stink comes from Sulein’s poultice. It needs to come off.”

“And what do you know about healing and such arts?” Sir Roye asked him fiercely from the opposite side of the bed.

Dain glared right back. “My sister knew healing. She said a wound should be kept clean and exposed to light and fresh air.”

“Hah!” Sir Roye said in derision. “You’d kill him certain, with measures like that.”

Lord Odfrey reached up and began tugging at his bandages. “Off with it.” “My lord,” Sir Roye said, trying to hold down his hands. “Wait for Sulein to do that. You’ll hurt yourself, sure.”

“Ow!” Lord Odfrey shouted. Cursing, he finished pulling the bandage away and flung it on the floor.

Then Sulein arrived, gliding forward hastily with his robe unfastened and his conical hat on crooked. “What is this? What is this?” he asked, clapping his hands together.

“Wash this damned stink off me,” Lord Odfrey ordered.  The commotion began. A page stuck his head inside the room, staring around with his eyes popping. “He’s better! He’s alive! Praise Thod!” The guards looked in while the page went dashing away, shouting down the corridor. Sulein bustled to fill a basin with water and started cleaning the wound. Servants, gawking at their master, came in to build up new fires and light fresh candles. Sulein ordered the window shut, but Lord Odfrey ordered it opened again. All the windows were opened, transforming the chamber with sunlight and fresh air.

From outside, the chapel bell began to ring in celebration, sending up ripples of music such as Dain had never heard.

He retreated from the general confusion, taking refuge in a corner, until Sir Roye noticed him and booted him out. But Lord Odfrey ordered him brought back in.

“I want him near me,” the chevard said. “Make a place for him. He is welcome at Thirst, as long as he will stay.”

Sir Roye bowed, but he shot a quick, scornful look in Dain’s direction. “And what place will he have, my lord? Stable work? Field work?” “Nonsense.” Looking suddenly white and exhausted, Lord Odfrey sank back upon his pillows. “Put him among the fosters. Give him training at arms.” The servants froze in mid-task. Sulein jostled his basin of water. Sir Roye’s eyes widened in shock.