Sir Oreth looked around for a moment, blinking, then crossed over to Senera. “Take me back. I must speak with my father.”

She ignored him and bent down next to Brother Qown. “How bad does it look?”

Qown winced. “Could’ve been worse. Skin and muscle tissue. The rib cage did its job and saved my internal organs. Mostly blood loss. If I could just … concentrate … I could…”

“Has anyone said you talk too much?” Senera smiled at him. “It’s no wonder you can’t reach Illumination.”

He blinked at her. “What did you say?”

Brother Qown felt his heart grow heavy. Please don’t let her be a follower of the Way of Vishai. Please don’t let her be someone who claims to share my faith. She didn’t answer his question but continued uncovering the wound on his chest.

“Are you listening to me, woman? I said I need to go back, right now.” Oreth’s anger bordered on panic. His hands started to shake.

Senera put her hand on Brother Qown’s chest. “Pragaos, watch Sir Oreth. If he makes any threatening moves, kill him.”

“Yes, Colonel.” Pragaos pulled his sword and moved to stand next to Sir Oreth.

“What?” Sir Oreth grimaced at the man. “Stand down this instant. You take orders from me.”

The soldier’s mouth quirked. “You may find you’re mistaken about that.”

“Why don’t you pour yourself a drink, Oreth,” Senera said. “You’re shaking like a—” She paused at the edge of a metaphor and narrowed her eyes at Sir Oreth. “You’ve never killed anyone before.”

Sir Oreth crossed his arms over his chest, looking more than a little wide-eyed. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I have. I just didn’t think—” He went over to the bench and sat down. “I didn’t think—”

A soldier poured a glass of brandy at the bar. He crossed back to Sir Oreth and handed it to him.

“I have to talk to my father,” Sir Oreth whispered as he took the brandy and drank it, too quickly. “I need my father.”

“Why are you helping me?” Brother Qown tore his gaze away from Sir Oreth to look at Senera.

“Seems a shame to waste a perfectly good healer,” Senera said. “You never know when you’ll need one. Now stop talking; I need to concentrate.”

Brother Qown understood that last part all too well. He leaned back and tried not to think about the pain, although the wound hurt less with every passing second. The physical pain, anyway.

Dorna. Damn it all, Dorna. It had happened so fast …