“There,” he said presently, and Seregil turned to find him seated on the edge of the bed in the nightshirt, scrubbing his wet hair and beard with a flannel. Tossing it on the floor, he combed his hair back with his fingers and regarded him with eyes that were clear and sane. “Now, some answers.”

“You’ve been locked up in the madhouse, my friend.” Seregil pulled up a chair beside the bed. “Whatever you saw that night at the palace drove you out of your wits.”

“That young fellow with the black beard said something about possession.”

“Yes. Thero is a wizard, and he cast whatever it was out. He’ll want to speak more about that with you.”

Micum returned with Alec and a tray laden with mince pie, bread, and sheep’s-milk cheese. Alec had a large earthenware jug and some small wooden flagons. “Honey mead. I thought we could all use some,” he said, handing the flagons around and filling them. “Thero will be up when he’s done soaking. He’s a mess.”

“What happened to him?” asked Sedge.

“I don’t see any harm telling him, do you?” asked Micum.

“No,” said Seregil. “Go ahead and eat, Captain.”

Thero lay back in the tub, bandaged hand propped carefully on the side of it to keep the wrappings dry. Sabriel had discovered Alec rummaging through her pantry for butter and shooed him away. Seating Thero at the worktable, she’d brought out her box of simples and applied an aromatic salve to the blisters on his fingers that took most of the pain away, then had given him a sweet bun to eat while the bath was prepared.

Someone had put oat chaff in the bathwater and it was wonderfully soothing; the marks across his skin were still an angry red but hurt a little less. He shuddered to think how much worse things might have gone without his fortunate precautions. Before he could doze off, he rose from the bath and gratefully put on the silk dressing gown Seregil had sent down for him. He never wore such things, but had to admit the smooth fabric was preferable to wool or linen right now.

When he reached Sedge’s room he found the others eating together. “I hope you saved some for me.”

Seregil handed him a thick slice of pie. “You need it more than any of us.”

“Thanks, I’m famished.” The mince was rich with venison and currants, making his mouth water so hard it hurt.

“That was a close call tonight, wasn’t it?” Alec asked, handing him a cup.

“It was.” He took a sip—dry mead, flavored with some herb and potent, just what his shattered nerves needed.

When they were done, Thero leaned back in his chair and said, “Now, Sedge, it’s important that you tell us everything about the day the governor and his lady were killed.”

“I told you before, I don’t remember,” Sedge replied through a mouthful of bread. There were crumbs caught in his beard and down the front of his nightshirt.