Given what Dallen, and now the servant, had told him, Mags was not at all averse to getting some sleep. The room that the boy brought him to was certainly decorated with sleep in mind. The walls were covered by green embroidered hangings showing nothing more exciting than stylized flowers, small birds, and rabbits. There were heavy curtains over the window and a screened fire blazing cheerfully on the small hearth. A fleece covered part of the floor beside the bed, which took up most of the space. That construction was almost a room unto itself, curtained and covered with some soft but heavy green fabric, with a reading lamp and a bookcase built into the headboard. All of the mine kiddies could have fitted into it at once—a bit snugly, but they would have fit. The boy showed him what he called (to Mags’ vast amusement) “the necessary room” that was shared between his room and the next. There was a mug warming on a little shelf at the hearth that the boy offered to him. As he put down his bag, he noticed that on the same shelf was a plate of the little egg pies he had come to like so much. That was good, if dinner was going to be late.

Ah, Mags, ye’ve got spoiled! T’ think yer worried about one meal bein’ late! He almost laughed at himself. But still, it was hard to sleep if you were hungry, and he’d skipped luncheon to go hunting with Jakyr.

“What be in the cup?” Mags asked with interest.

“Milk, honey, spices and brandy wine,” the boy replied. “To help you sleep.”

Now Mags had never in his life had trouble sleeping, not even when he had nightmares, but he was not at all going to object to being served something that sounded so tasty. He thanked the boy, and since the youngling seemed to be waiting for something, wolfed down the pies and drank the potion down. And it was tasty. He found himself wishing there might be a little more, and handed over the cup.

“Thankee, sir,” the boy said. “Good rest to you.” He left, closing the door behind himself, leaving Mags alone in the room.