Deglan had not wanted to explore that notion further and let it lie, still disturbed with the thought that the man had been hunting him. Now, it seemed, Madigan wished to help them, and the seer was all too willing to allow him. It was not a company Deglan relished being amongst, but he suffered it because he believed the hobgoblin mystic truly wanted to stop Torcan Swinehelm, and that was alliance enough.

After the rabbits were dressed and allowed to roast over the fire, they all ate. Blink fell asleep in Deglan’s arms with the grease still on her fingers. Madigan lay down on the bare ground close to the fire, Sweat and Panic curling up around him. Deglan was never certain that they actually slept, but all three lay still enough with their eyes closed to make a good show of it. Curdle continued to read by the light of the fire. The seer was always awake when Deglan closed his own eyes and when he opened them in the morning. Probably why he was so blasted pale.

“That something to help us stop the Flame Binder?” Deglan asked, pointing at the scroll.

“This?” Curdle said, looking up and smiling shyly. “No. It is treatise on the properties of yarrow root.”

Deglan raised his eyebrows. “The bad gnome’s plaything? Old noble yarrow!”

“Yes,” Curdle said enthusiastically. “It is a fascinating substance. I was just reading that it can help cure even the most grievous of wounds.”

“Only if it is harvested at noon on a bright day,” Deglan said. “Preferably near the full of the moon. And it works best on bleeding injuries.”

“Ah yes,” Curdle looked down excitedly at the scroll. “It says here it is a fine cure for nosebleeds.”

“If you make a potion of it,” Deglan agreed. “Need to be careful though…take too much and you will end up flaccid for a fortnight.”

The seer blinked at him questioningly.

“You know,” Deglan said, raising his fist in the air and then letting it go limp.

“Ah,” Curdle nodded in understanding. “Yes. I see.”

“Was going to have to brew some myself if I spent another day around a certain piskie,” Deglan said almost to himself.

Curdle seemed a bit embarrassed. “They are truly very comely creatures.”

“This one,” Deglan whistled low and shook his head. “’Course, that is the tease with piskies. Too small to do right with…but the thoughts you have!”

The thoughts seemed to make Curdle uncomfortable, for he smiled, but looked back down at his scroll as if it could save him from wanton winged women. Deglan decided to be merciful, though he enjoyed watching the mystic squirm.

He cleared his throat, returning to a more serious tone. “You think we can stop Torcan?”

Curdle looked up. “I know that we must try. Same as you.”

“I do know,” Deglan said. “But, is this Forge Born I saw truly the answer?”