Vanlo uttered a long sigh. He cast his tired eyes down at his patient.

The bolt was out. The wound was closed and starting to knit. He applied more of the salve to it now that she could stand it, now that there was no longer raw muscle and tendon exposed, and it would start to knit a little faster.

But the girl's skin was still deathly pale. The bolt had gone deep and nicked the major artery. Before they got her to Vanlo, she had bled profusely. Her breathing had been very shallow. She was better now, but she still had far less blood in her body than she ought.

She needed a restorative draught, one that would accelerate her blood replacement.

Vanlo stood back. He was alone in the treatment room with Amanda. He had forcibly cleared everyone out, including the Overlord. He could not work on such a critical case with a great many people about.

Making restoratives was the supreme test of a Healer's ability. It required a great deal of attention to detail, timing, and -- most of all -- confidence in one's abilities.

He had everything but the last.

He contemplated asking the Overlord to power the Portal to bring a proper Healer from the Guild Hall faster, but it would take half a day at least for even just a local trip across Narlass. He was not sure Amanda had that long. He spent a good deal of time wracking his brains coming up with an alternative. He came up with nothing.

Nothing except himself.

He looked back down at Amanda. If he did nothing, she might die. She might also recover on her own. If he made the restorative, and it was wrong, she might die. Or she might not.

Vanlo sighed. He was not even given the luxury of an assurance that she would die if he did nothing.

Finally he turned away from Amanda's still body. He went over to the shelves and began to gather the ingredients he needed.

News of the incident spread quickly. It was Rennis that had first noticed something wrong. First the shade had suddenly come down, then there was the commotion and finally loud shouts. It was when Roquan had bellowed Amanda's name that finally had alerted him that something was wrong.

At first, the other Overlords looked on only curiously, thinking that it had been a case of a debate that had turned to fisticuffs. It was only when Amanda had been carried out, the crossbow bolt spearing her calf and leaving a bright red trail of blood as they carried her from the bluff, had a sudden, shocked silence fallen on the others.

Doran had been the first to venture into Gronnus' quarters after the Overlord had staggered out, pale and ill. Then Doran had looked inside and had become ill as well when his gaze had fallen on the body of the merchant, a pool of blood under him, a dagger lodged in his neck.

Rennis had taken Doran to Roquan's quarters at this point, expecting that Roquan would meet them there once he got Amanda to the Healer. Gronnus had tagged along, not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to be alone at this point to face the rest of the Conclave.

All three of them were trying to calm their nerves with some of Roquan's wine when the Overlord returned to his quarters. Rennis surged forward immediately. "Roquan! How is she? Will she be ...?"

Roquan ignored him. His eyes were fixed on Gronnus. Rennis stopped when he saw the blazing, raw fury in them. Roquan pushed past Rennis, grabbed the surprised Gronnus by his shirt and slammed his back into one of the wooden support poles, causing his goblet to fly from his hand and spill red wine over the floor.

"Roquan! Roquan, what are you ...!" Doran shouted in warning, stepping forward. Rennis grabbed his arm and held him back, giving Doran a meaningful look and shaking his head.

"Make no mistake about this, Gronnus," Roquan snarled. "If Amanda dies, I place the blame at your feet. If she dies, you are through as an Overlord. If the Conclave won't depose you, I will kill you myself."

Gronnus was too scared to speak for a moment. His mouth worked with no sound coming out. Finally he managed to croak, "R-Roquan, p-please ... I didn't ... I d-didn't mean for her to ..."

"Just like you did not mean to collude with the Emperor in the first place?!" Roquan thundered.

Doran's eyes became saucers. "What?!"

"Roquan! I-I didn't understand! I d-didn't know your position! Please, be reasonable! ... I-I thought I was doing what was best for the Overlords! For Oceanus! Please!"

Roquan paused for a moment, then let go of the Overlord's shirt, taking a step back.

Gronnus let go a sigh of relief. It was short-lived. The next moment his head whipped to one side as Roquan's fist struck home, sending him crashing to the floor. A trickle of blood oozed from one corner of his mouth.

Neither Rennis nor Doran made any effort to help the fallen Overlord.

Roquan took a single, long, deep breath and let it go. He turned crisply to face the others.

"Amanda is in grave condition at the moment, but Vanlo is tending to her," he said calmly. He glanced at Gronnus as the Overlord struggled to sit up. "The assassin is dead, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Rennis asked dubiously.

"He could have told us more about what the Emperor is planning." Roquan turned his head back towards Gronnus. "Perhaps that was the true reason you were so adamant about taking the dagger while I was struggling with the merchant."

Doran slowly sank into a chair. "Great gods ..."

"I hate to be the practical one at this point, Roquan," Rennis said somberly. "But there's no question about where the Conclave vote will go now. Not once they learn about this."

"Yes, and it had to take a trail of blood in the sands and a dead body for them to realize it. Pathetic."

Gronnus staggered to his feet.

Doran looked coldly at him. "And this one?" he said, gesturing as if the man were just one of his slaves. "What of him?"

The others turned and looked at Gronnus.

The man swallowed and swiped at the blood at the corner of his mouth with the back of one hand. His cheek and eye were already purpling. "I didn't know he would go this far," he rasped, his eyes wild. "I never wanted him to go this far! I told him, trying to assassinate an Overlord would bring civil war!"

Roquan fixed an icy stare on him. "That does not excuse you from your collusion with him in the first place. Give me a reason why I should not have the Conclave hold a tribunal for your actions."

Gronnus looked on fearfully for a few moments, then slowly relaxed. "Because, Roquan, they'll have to hold two of them. One for me, and then one for you, and how you trained a Draughtless Captive!"

"You foul-mouthed, lying bastard!" Doran shouted, jumping out of his seat. "How dare you try to impugn another Overlord by even suggesting ...!"

"Doran! Enough!" Roquan declared.

"Roquan, are you going to let him stand there and tell these lies about you? Are you ...?"

Roquan gave him a meaningful look.

Doran subsided. His look of indignation turned to one of astonishment. He looked over to Rennis, who gazed back fixedly. "You are not serious," Doran said in a small voice.

Rennis simply looked at Roquan.

"It is true," said Roquan.

Doran looked aghast. "Not ... Amanda?"

"Yes. She has not had the Draught."

Doran looked beside himself. He was at a complete loss for words.

"I have already had this out with him, Doran," said Rennis. "Nothing you can add to this would help. Or change things."

"Let me guess," Doran said flatly. "Freya knows as well. That's why Roquan gave Amanda to her. To avoid exposure. Oh, this gets better all the time!"

"Now is not the time to discuss this," Roquan said. "My only concern now is Amanda's condition."

"I do not want to see her die, either!" Doran thundered. "But the Conclave! You cannot let this get out!"

"It will not. Not unless Gronnus wishes the others to learn of his duplicity."

"And Freya?"

Gronnus gave a bark of humorless laughter. "Like she cares. Her only concern is for herself, and what she could gain. She doesn't care about Roquan's little indiscretion past that."

"You sound almost disappointed," Rennis said coldly.

Gronnus glared at him. "Do not start with me on that. Do you want me to formally declare my vote for Roquan? Fine! This is what I do! You have it! I will not deal with an Emperor that resorts to assassination!"

"No, you do it just when it's in your best interests."

"I'll remind you, I did not hesitate to kill the assassin while Roquan had him distracted!"

"Yes, but perhaps Roquan is right, and you killed him to prevent him from revealing more of your dealings with the Emperor!"

"Enough," said Roquan. "This is useless. We all know each other's transgressions. That is not what is important now. As Doran has said on numerous occasions, the Conclave is what is important. And now they know how treacherous Z'haas has become."

"The sooner he is off the throne, the better," Doran declared. "He is a madman. First he tries to train his own slaves, now he sends agents among the other Guilds." He threw up his arms dramatically. "Do we all need to watch our backs now amongst our own slaves? Do we need to avoid letting them leave our Manors? Do we need to watch them every moment? Hmph. If half of what you accuse Freya of is true, Roquan, she's damn lucky she didn't have the Imperial agent in her Manor instead of yours!"

Roquan was about to reply when he paused. One corner of his mouth turned upwards slightly.

Rennis noticed this and looked to him questioningly. Roquan shook his head. "It is nothing. A stray thought about something else."

Rennis nodded. "By the way, has anyone told Uridon about this yet?"

"I suspect he knows by now." Roquan paused. "I will speak with him later. I want to make sure he understands that the honor of his Clan is intact. I do not hold them responsible for this."

Vanlo sat in patient concentration as he peered through the lens of a contraption that looked like a large magnifying glass attached to a metal arm bolted to a rolling table. It was, of course, more than it appeared. The mechanism was enchanted, and when he looked into the lens, depending on how he set the controls, he could see through skin, muscle, and bone.

He once used this on Amanda to help heal a broken bone when she had first arrived on Narlass, the result of a large hailstone from a storm from which she had been rescued on Earth. Now he peered at her injured leg. He was pleased with what he saw.

The artery that had been torn appeared as if nothing had ever happened to it. Muscle and tendon had reformed. Some of the former was a little weak. She would limp a bit for about a half moon before it healed completely. The bone had been missed by the bolt, which was fortunate. That much damage might have been too catastrophic for his talents.

The only difficulty he was having was the skin.

Skin was harder to manage than muscle or even bone. Getting it to come together and work correctly was one thing; getting it to do so and retain its proper appearance was another. When the appearance of a slave is as important as her sexual skills, it was crucial he get this right.

He appeared to be having success. Where the skin had knitted completely, it was smooth and blemish free. It was only slightly discolored from swelling, but this would pass. It would get trickier as the healing approached the center of the wound.

He reached forward with a small probe and teased away some more scar tissue as it crumbled in the wake of the restoration. So far, so good.

He sighed and leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was starting to feel fatigued again. Yet he could not afford to be fatigued, not now.

Vanlo turned the machine off and headed into his inner chamber. In the corner, the apparatus steamed and gurgled as the ingredients of the restorative trickled through it. Fortunately, he had all the ingredients he needed. He felt a little better that he had done it right, as everything appeared in the apparatus as it should. Everything was the right color, consistency, and moved along at the proper speed. The flask at the end was already at half the amount he needed.

He returned to his patient and placed a hand tenderly on her forehead. Her eyelids twitched slightly. She was still very much among the land of the living and still stable. If she could hold on a little longer, he would have the draught ready.

He withdrew his hand and smiled slightly. He hoped to have Amanda better by the following morning. He was most anxious to go back to his inventory. It was quite interesting. Now he was finding other ingredients that he had less of than he ought.

In his tent, Clan Leader Uridon's hand shook so badly that he had to hold the glass with two hands to bring it to his lips. He took a long draw of his brandy, sending a fiery trail down his throat. He leaned back in his chair, feeling lightheaded. He closed his eyes.

After a few long, uneasy moments, and without opening his eyes, Uridon finally spoke.

"All the platinum that has been spent by you and the Conclave will be returned."

Roquan was too nonplussed to speak.

Uridon tried to take another drink and gave up, putting his glass down, splashing brandy over the small table. He covered his face with his hands.

"You do not have to do this, Clan Leader," Roquan said respectfully. "You have earned that platinum. This has ..."

"I cannot accept your money! Not after this! Not after this ... disgrace!"

"Your Clan is not at fault. I cannot emphasize this any more than I have. No one holds you or anyone else responsible."

Uridon shot out of his seat, his face livid. "Herdon was my responsibility!" he bellowed. "Mine alone! And I let him do this!"

"You did not let him do anything. He did not do this for you or the Clan. He did it for the Emperor."

"But I should have seen this!"

Roquan remained silent. The look in Uridon's eyes was something he had never seen before in the Clan Leader.

"Roquan, I knew that he had been a soldier for the Imperium. I knew that he had done things that he would not tell me about. I knew he had become ... political. I should never have trusted him with any duties whatsoever. He even suggested he knew of plots against Overlords!"

"There was no way you could have known. No Emperor before this has ever stooped to such treachery as this. This is unprecedented. When is it normal for someone who was a mere soldier to become an assassin for the Emperor?"

Uridon paled at the word "assassin" and had to sit down again.

"Unless there is something else about him that you know?"

The Clan Leader paused and shook his head. "He rarely gave me details about those years in the Imperial Guard. When he did, it was only to tell me of the prowess he had with multiple weapons." He frowned. "And his political views. I could have done without that."

Roquan considered for a long moment. "Uridon, I do not want to see you give up the platinum you have earned. You will be doing your Clan a disservice. No, let me finish, Clan Leader," the Overlord said sharply when Uridon looked about to protest. "If you wish to do something to ... to 'atone' for this ... then I ask you to become an ally."

Uridon stared at Roquan. "An ally? I don't understand."

"I fear that dangerous times are upon us, Clan Leader. While Conclaves have in the past deposed Emperors, this will be the first time that an Emperor may be arming against us."

Uridon looked alarmed. "Arming?! Are you quite sure?"

"Not entirely. But the signs are there."

"He would be mad to do so!"

"And what of late has happened to convince you that he is not mad?"

Uridon paused and nodded. "Point made, Overlord." He sighed. "What would you wish of me and the Clan?"

"Information. We will need to know if Z'haas is moving to strike. Or if he is attempting to rally the Nobility. It will not be long before he knows of the failed attempt on my life. He will not wait for the Overlords to act. I need information. I need it quickly." He paused. "And I need it free of charge."

Uridon set his face hard and stood. He clasped the Overlord's hand and shook it once. "Deal. You will have whatever information we can find."

"I will give you a Farviewing pearl before you leave the Manor. You can use it to contact me directly. We cannot risk sending couriers."

Uridon nodded. "Yes, understandable. Wait, there may be something else I can offer you."

"Yes?"

"If things break down ... if the worst occurs and there is war ... you will need supplies. Possibly weapons to arm the workers of your Manor's lands. You will need a tradesman."

Roquan nodded slowly. "Yes. I will indeed, won't I? However ... I believe I know exactly who would be perfect for the job."

Uridon looked thoughtful. "Would you happen to be referring to that Jollis fellow?"

Roquan's eyebrows rose. "Yes, indeed I am. My humble apologies. I do not mean to suggest that your Clan is inadequate for the challenge of ..."

Uridon waved a hand dismissively. "I've been hearing rumors about that man. His contacts put mine to shame even in my better days. I don't have the foggiest notion how he does it, but at this point, Roquan, you need the best, and that's what he is. The best."

Roquan nodded respectfully. "Thank you for your understanding."

"There is one last thing I wish to do for you, Roquan," Uridon said. He went over to another part of the tent for a moment and returned with a large pouch that rattled with the many coins inside it. He tossed it to the Overlord.

Roquan caught it deftly. "What is this?"

"The money you paid me for the pearls I obtained for you. Or rather, that Jollis obtained."

"Clan Leader, I cannot ..."

"Yes you can, and you will. Consider it part of the deal we just made. Perhaps I cannot give back the other platinum we have made, but this will at least ease my conscience towards you."

Roquan sighed. He looked down at the pouch and felt the weight of the platinum within. He really needed these funds now. "I will accept it. Grudgingly."

Uridon gave him a humorless grin. "I fear that is how we will have to accept everything that is to come from this day forward for awhile."

"I sincerely hope not. I still wish for a smooth transition to another sovereign."

"As so I. Good day to you, Overlord Roquan."

"Good day to you, Clan Leader Uridon."

The Overlord slipped out of the tent.

Uridon stared at the entrance to the tent for awhile after the Overlord had departed. His eyes began to cloud over and he sank back into his chair. With a steadier hand, he picked up the glass of brandy and took another long sip, and waited until it had blazed down his gullet.

He stared morosely into the liquor. He had managed to salvage the Clan's honor. He had managed to retain the Overlord's friendship. He had committed himself to do his part for what was to follow. Overall, he had done well for himself and his Clan.

Except that my son is now dead, he thought.

The glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the ground. He dropped his head into his hands and wept softly.

Vanlo's legs were aching badly, but he refused to seek assistance. Amanda was his patient. She had been entrusted to him, and no one else. Despite his lingering doubts about himself, he had his pride.

This was the thirty-sixth trip. From his apparatus, where the draught was still only two-thirds completed, filling the long dropper, then to the treatment room, where he carefully slipped the tip between Amanda's lips and let the draught enter her mouth drop by drop.

The problem with treating an unconscious patient with a potion is obvious. The patient needs to be conscious to be able to properly drink it, unless it is one that can be vaporized and inhaled. Thus the initial portion must be delivered in this manner, in very small amounts, the patient either absorbing the potion through the tongue or reflexively swallowing it.

The Healer was going to wait until the draught was done, until Amanda had suddenly destabilized. Her heartbeat had fluttered dangerously, and her breathing had grown shallow again. Vanlo could not remove the flask from the apparatus, and he could not pause long enough to siphon enough into another container.

His efforts, as excruciating as they were on his aged body, were paying off.

By ten trips, her heart had settled and she was breathing more normally.

By twenty, some of the paleness had begun to retreat.

By thirty, her pulse had grown stronger.

Now as he was about to apply the thirty-sixth does, Amanda uttered a very soft moan.

Vanlo took a breath and let it go in a deep sigh of relief. He applied the dose to her. She immediately swallowed it. Her nose and the corners of her mouth twitched.

She was not entirely conscious yet. But now she was out of the worst of it. Once the draught was done, Amanda could be roused enough to drink it properly.

Vanlo staggered back into a chair, as weak with relief as he was. As soon as he had recovered, he would see about notifying someone. He glanced over at the leg. While he had been working on the potion, more of the skin had knitted up. He frowned slightly. As he had not been paying attention to it, it had not come together quite perfectly. There would be a slight bit of scarring for awhile until he procured the additional materials to smooth it out.

At this point, it did not matter. What mattered was the fact that Amanda would live.

Roquan had his midday meal alone, at his request. He did not feel he could face anyone else at the moment. At first he had little appetite for it, until he received word on Amanda's improved condition. Then he was able to eat his fill and go looking for his friends when he was done.

He finally found both Rennis and Doran in the latter's quarters, sipping brandy among the remains of their own meals.

Rennis immediately stood as Roquan entered the room. "Please, Roquan, have a drink with us. We heard about Amanda's improvement."

Roquan nodded slowly and sat down at the table. Doran silently poured out a glass and pushed it towards the Overlord. Doran cast an apologetic look at Roquan.

"Yes?" Roquan said as he raised the glass to his lips.

"I just wanted to let you know, I have no intention of bringing up the subject of Amanda's ... condition ... any longer."

"You mean that she has not had the Draught?"

Doran nodded silently.

"Very good of you, Doran," Roquan said coolly.

Doran caught the meaning of that. It meant "it would not have mattered a whit if you had."

"If I may ask, what brought on this sudden magnanimity?"

"Gronnus informed us of who exactly was responsible for foiling the assassin," Rennis commented mildly with a sidelong glance at Doran.

"Ah, did he?"

"Dead clever of the girl," Doran commented in a low voice. After a long pause he added, "Not sure she would have had the presence of mind to do it if she had had the Draught."

"I might dispute that. I do not place so much of the ingredient in it as to render them complete sex addicts. Not like some Overlords."

"Speaking of which ... Rennis had told me that you wish to back out of the deal with Freya."

Roquan paused to take a long sip before lowering his glass. "You need not concern yourself with that."

Doran frowned. He looked at Rennis, who gave him a confused look. Both men looked towards Roquan again.

"I have the situation under control. I will handle it."

"And how do you propose to do this?"

"I do not wish to reveal any more at this moment. Needless to say, Doran, it will involve no duplicity on my part. There has been quite enough of that from both sides."

"Then you don't intend to invoke your privilege as ..."

Roquan smiled at him. "And is that what you had come up with?" he asked with some amusement.

Doran frowned. "Now, look here ... It's very hard to break a deal like that without resorting to something unorthodox ..."

"I am not going to break the deal. Freya will back out of it herself."

Rennis blinked. "Wait ... you mean you're going to make her give her back to you?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Roquan looked at him. "What did I just say, Rennis?"

"Here we go again," Doran said with a sigh, shaking his head.

"I think I may be with you on that sentiment," said Rennis sourly.

Roquan simply took another sip of his brandy, and continued to gaze at the other two in only partially veiled amusement.

Amanda was only half-awake. Her leg where the bolt had hit her itched fiercely. Her head was fuzzy and she barely could make out anything around her. Something was placed in her hands and brought to her lips. Instinctively, she tipped it back and drank.

The next second she was scrunching up her face in revulsion and sputtering much of the thick, brackish fluid out of her mouth. "Ugh!"

"Ahem. Well. At least that means your senses are coming back."

Amanda blinked rapidly and squinted to try and focus her eyes better. Finally, Healer Vanlo swam into view, as well as the splattered mess now over his robe and part of his beard.

She gasped in embarrassment. "Master Vanlo, I'm sorry! I just ... wait, what happened, am I ...?"

"You are doing better, my dear," Vanlo said with a gentle smile. He coaxed her into raising the flask to her lips again.

"But my leg, it ... " She looked down at it. Where the bolt had pierced the meat of her calf muscle, now she could only see a faint discoloration and some puckering of the skin. Suddenly the memory came back to her in a rush. "Master Roquan! The assassin! Is he ...?"

Vanlo placed a hand on Amanda's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Roquan is perfectly safe. Thanks to you, from what I understand. Hmm, you're quite a busy girl it would appear. That would be two of the Manor's denizens you have saved from some nasty fate, yes?"

Amanda just blushed at this, but her lips tried to curl into a tiny smile.

"This time, however, not without some sacrifice. Now." He lifted her hands holding the flask again. "You lost a great deal of blood. You're better now, but you need to finish this. I realize it tastes horrible, but I did not have time to flavor it."

It was only then that Amanda realized she felt chilled, and now that her vision was better she saw that her skin had lost a little color. She remembered reading once that people with really bad anemia felt and looked like this, so this made sense to her. She drank back the concoction, her nose wrinkling and her stomach turning a bit, but she forced herself to get most of it down. Afterward, her stomach rumbled ominously for a moment and she had to wonder if it would stay down.

Vanlo smiled and took the flask from her, which still had about a quarter of the contents left. "You may finish the rest in a little while. Here, lie back, you need your rest, and I need a fresh robe."

"Sorry about that, Master Vanlo," Amanda said sheepishly as she lay back.

Vanlo smiled gently at her. "Just part of the job, my dear."

The Wanderer found the mood at the merchant camp far too somber for his liking. He understood the sentiment, even if he could not share it. A dangerous instrument of the Emperor had been destroyed. They could not see it as such. They may never completely see it that way. To them, a member of the Clan had died horribly. They had the right to mourn his loss.

Besides, Jollis had a reason to celebrate, and his upbeat mood would not fit in well with the other merchants. The girl Amanda would live.

Jollis walked very slowly through the beautiful gardens of the Manor. It reminded him of life rather than the death that had occurred, and the one that had nearly occurred. Yet even the mood of the other slaves was subdued, though nowhere near as sepulchral as the merchants. He was sure that the idea of one of their own being so gravely injured was a new experience for them.

Jollis corrected himself. Not so new. Sirinna had almost died previously. Perhaps it was more the shock that something like this had happened again to their idyllic little community. Despite being slaves, all their needs were provided, and their Overlord protected them from harm. To have something like this happen in their midst cast the first doubt on the efficacy of the system.

Now he knew what he needed to do to complete the first part of his grand task. But not right now. He would wait until the Conclave had concluded. After what had happened, and the reaction he had witnessed from the other Overlords, it was unlikely the vote would go any way other than what Roquan wished. And what Jollis' master wished.

Today, there would be no Conclave. The Overlords were simply too stunned to do anything. Yet Roquan was no fool. He would not give them a chance to reconsider. He would convene a Full Conclave tomorrow, and the matter will be settled.

And thus the arduous journey for them all would be set in motion.

By the time dusk arrived, Amanda was feeling much better. Her skin had a much healthier cast to it, and she no longer felt cold. Most of all, despite having to drink down the rest of that stomach-turning concoction, she was ravenous.

Vanlo finished applying a salve to Amanda's calf. Now the itching had abated as well, much to her relief. "This will also keep the skin a little more supple," he told her. "It will prevent it from scarring any further until it can be treated to restore the skin to its former appearance."

Amanda just nodded. She tried not to think about the fact that it might not be him doing it.

Vanlo wiped off his hands with a small towel and smiled at Amanda. "Now, I am sure you are quite hungry."

"Yes, Master Vanlo, very."

"Then I will see to having some dinner brought to you. However, I fear you will need to entertain a visitor first ..."

"A visitor? Who ..."

Vanlo had already stepped away from her and towards the reception area. He leaned through the doorway and nodded.

Amanda's eyes widened in surprise and joy as she saw who was standing there. Before she could react any further, Sirinna raced across the treatment room and threw her arms around the girl, hugging her tightly and crying softly onto her shoulder.

"Sirinna, it's okay ... I'm doing better ..." Amanda whispered, though her own eyes were tearing as well.

"Oh gods ... if I had lost you ..." Sirinna's voice grew too choked to continue, and she simply hugged Amanda fiercely.

"I know. I felt the same way when you ... when you almost ..." Then it was Amanda's turn to go silent, and the two simply remained still for a few moments, enjoying each other's presence, happy that there was still a presence to enjoy.

Vanlo stood off to the side for a few awkward moments, though he was smiling softly as well. "Well. Yes ... Amanda is doing well. I should be able to release her in the morning. Her stay here for the night is merely a precaution."

Sirinna replied without breaking off the embrace, as if she wanted to hug Amanda forever. "Yes, Master Vanlo, thank you. Thank you."

Vanlo quite nearly blushed at the tone of affection in Sirinna's voice.

"Ahem. Well, yes, then ... I shall leave you for the time being, as I am a bit fatigued. Sirinna, I trust you can procure some dinner for her?"

"Yes, master, I'll do that at once. Thank you."

He smiled and blushed slightly once more before heading out of the office and into cool air under the darkening skies.

Vanlo paused a moment and took a deep breath. He was weary to his very bones. The excitement now over, he was ready to drop. If he lay down, he likely would not wake up until morning. He wanted to check on his patient one last time before retiring for the night, so he would have to be content with a walk to loosen his stiffening muscles and joints.

Yet it could do nothing for the fatigue and fuzziness in his head.

It had not plagued him as much, not until the worst was over for Amanda. He had managed to keep it at bay, but it had required enormous concentration. Perhaps he was not quite as critical of himself as he had been the other day, but realistically he knew that he was still not up to par. If he had had another emergency like Amanda's tomorrow, he was not at all sure he could handle it.

It was just as well that the assassin had died from his wounds. Vanlo did not care for how callous that sounded, but it was the simple truth. Had he two trauma cases to deal with, he was not at all sure either would have pulled through.

What greatly disturbed him, however, was what that inventory would tell him when he completed it. He was now sure that someone has been stealing potion ingredients from him. Given enough time and patience, assuming that his memory was not addled as well, he might even be able to glean what kind of potion the thief was attempting to make.

And if that involved the Jonalla somehow, he was quite fearful of the consequences.

However, there was a problem. The inventory was the easy part. Researching the potion that the thief might have been interested in producing would be trickier. It would take time. And he could not do this if he were retired.

Vanlo strolled off into the night. This was something upon which he would have to think very carefully.

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