He wanted to be funny but the relief was too deep for that. He closed his eyes and took a breath. There was surprisingly little pain. When he opened his eyes he saw that there were a number of others in the room: Diar and Coll and Levon. Tore, too, and Erron. Friends. He and Dave were in the front room of the Prince’s quarters, in beds moved close to the fire.

“I am okay,” he confirmed. Turned to Dave. “You?”

“Fine. Don’t know why, though.”

“The mages were here,” Diarmuid said. “Both of them. They each healed one of you. It took awhile.”

Kevin remembered something. “Wait a minute. How? I thought—”

“—that the sources were drained,” Diarmuid finished. His eyes were sober. “They were, but we had little choice. They’re resting now in the Temple, both Matt and Barak. They’ll be all right, Loren says.” The Prince smiled slowly. “They won’t be around for Maidaladan, though. You’ll have to make it up to them. Somehow.”

Everyone laughed. Kevin saw Dave looking at him. “Tell me,” the big man said slowly, “did I save your life or almost get you killed?”

“We’ll go with the first,” Kevin said. “But it’s a good thing you don’t like me much, because if you did, you would have hit that pig with a real tackle instead of faking it. In which case—”

“Hey!” Dave exclaimed. “Hey! That’s not… That isn’t…” He stopped because everyone was laughing. He would remember the line, though, for later. Kevin had a way of doing that to him.

“Speaking of pigs,” Levon said, helping Dave out, “We’re roasting that boar for dinner tonight. You should be able to smell it.”

After a moment and some trial sniffs, Kevin could. “That,” he said from the heart, “is one big pig.”

Diarmuid was grinning. “If you can make it to dinner,” he said, “we’ve already arranged to save the best part for you.

“No!” Kevin moaned, knowing what was coming.

“Yes indeed I thought you might like from the boar what it almost had from you.”

There was a great deal of encouragement and loud laughter, fueled as much, Kevin realized belatedly, by inner excitement as much as by anything else. It was Maidaladan, Midummer’s Eve, and it showed in every other man in the room. He got up, aware that there was a certain kind of miracle in his doing so. He was bandaged, but he could move and so, it seemed, could Dave. In the big man Kevin read the same scarcely controlled excitement that flared in all the others. Everyone but him. But now there was something nagging at him from somewhere very deep, and it seemed to be important. Not a memory something else…