Berwynna took the bowl from him. When she glanced around, Dallandra had already gone, slipping out in silence.

Dallandra found Neb and Ranadario at work in the big tent that the alar had allocated to its healers. Ranadario was explaining how to bandage a bad wound on the upper arm of one of the Cerr Cawnen men while Neb listened, his head cocked a little to one side as if he were afraid that her words would evade him. Their patient, a beefy blond fellow with the odd name of Hound, kept his eyes shut tight and panted in pain. The wound had cut deep into the side of his upper arm, missing the largest blood vessels but severing muscles and tendons. Dallandra doubted that he’d ever be able to use the arm properly again.

“Ranadario,” Dallandra said in Deverrian. “Did you give him willow water to drink?”

“I did, Wise One,” Ranadario said. “This cut is healing so slowly, though.”

Hound opened his eyes and stared at her. His breathing turned ragged, and Neb laid a hand on his unwounded shoulder to steady him.

“Not slowly for a child of Aethyr.” Dalla paused for a quick smile to reassure him. “It’s doing as well as we can expect. Don’t you worry, now. It’ll heal up soon.”

Hound returned the smile, then shut his eyes again.

With her apprentices to help her, Dallandra tended the wounds of the two Cerr Cawnen men and did what she hoped was right for the wounds of the others, four of them Horsekin and one a half-blood fellow. Since those who’d sustained the worst cuts in the fight to save the caravan had all died during their journey south, she could be fairly confident that those who’d lived to reach her would recover.

When she left the tent, Neb followed her with his fat-bellied yellow gnome trailing after. For a moment he merely looked up at the sky as if he were expecting rain. The gnome kicked him hard in the nearer shin.

“Dalla,” Neb said, “I owe you an apology.”

The gnome grinned and vanished.

“You do, truly.” She kept her voice gentle. “I wondered when it would come.”

“Pride’s an infection in itself.” He was studying the ground between them. “I should have spoken before this. I never should have tried to ride away like that.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re the only man or woman either to kick like a balky horse during training. It’s a common enough stage in the apprenticeship, especially among the lads.”

Neb winced, his shoulders a little high, as if he expected a blow. “Common, is it?” His voice choked on the words.

“Very, actually.” Dallandra felt genuinely sorry for his humiliation, but he’d earned every moment of it. “I take it you’re no longer so confused. Your decision about becoming a healer who incorporates dweomer into his work is a truly good one.”