Trygve cleared his throat. "Well, then. Where were we?"
"How about telling me whether I'll ever walk again, for starters. And whether my left hand is still attached."
Trygve took a long breath. "Ah, about that. Yes. You haven't lost either the leg or the hand, but it was close as a whisker. I may not be quite the healer Carina is, but I wager that any less magic would have lost you both. What do you remember?" "Freezing my ass off in the snow outside the fuller's mill," Cam replied. "Waking up here. You said you were going to make me sleep."
"That I did. You slept for three days, and then I brought you up to consciousness long enough to sip some water-most of which you spat back at me-and a bit of broth. You've been
down for another three days, and I don't dare keep you under longer or you'll starve. You're not fixed up yet."
As he awakened more fully, Cam became aware of a dull ache in his left arm. His broken knee throbbed despite Trygve's efforts to blunt the pain. "I feel like my head's full of wool." Trygve chuckled. "That's because of the drugs you've had for the pain. You needed more than my magic could do for you. The potions are hard on the stomach, but they're far better than the alternative."
"Will I heal?" Cam was sure Trygve could hear the apprehension in his question. I've seen soldiers banged up like this. Most of them never were any use for soldiering again. I can fight with a bum left hand, but if I can't walk, my fighting days are over. "Heal? Yes. And before you ask, I think you'll be able to walk, tho' I won't guarantee you won't have a limp. Your knee looked like a smashed piece of crockery. Took me several days just for that working, not counting the mess they made of your hand. That's why I asked Donelan to send you to Carina once you can travel. I'm nearing the limit of what I can do, but I'm certain someone with her skill can do more." Trygve grinned. "Besides, if you're in Dark Haven, you won't be tempted to sneak back on duty before you're ready for it." Cam gestured with his good hand to the letter Donelan left behind. "Please. Read it," he requested as two servants came to change his clothes and sponge off his face and the parts of his body not covered in bandages.
Trygve frowned in thought as he picked up the letter and broke the wax seal. "How long has it been since you heard from your brother?" "Eleven years."
Trygve drew a deep breath and paused to make out the cramped writing. "Dear Cam and Carina. With father dead and Alvior gone missing (may he rot in the Crone's belly), I'm finally free to write to you. For years, I didn't know where you'd gone. We only learned you were with the king a few years ago. I tried once to get a letter through, but Alvior found out and told father, and he beat me for the effort.
"I know your last memories of Brunnfen weren't pleasant. Mother never forgave father for sending you and Carina away. She took fever and died shortly afterward; I always thought she lost the will to live.
"I wanted you to know that the nobles who had such a fit about you being twins are long
dead, and the issue about magic was mostly in father's head. What I'm trying to say is that you'd be welcome here if you're of a mind to come back, seeing as how you're the eldest living son and the title is vacant.
"I'm taller by half than when you left, with more than a passing resemblance to Carina. I'd had a farmer's tan from helping in the fields (it kept me out of Alvior's way), but when he found out that I suspected he had ties to the divisionists, Alvior locked me in the basement. Now I'm pale as the vayash moru, and likely to stay so until spring. "The last few seasons have been hard on Brunnfen. As with most of Isencroft, the harvest has been middling and the wheat got blight. It's no real prize, but the house is sturdy (though still as cold as I wager you remember it). Until you make up your mind, I'll do my best to keep the servants directed and start the planting as soon as the snows melt. "Whether you choose to stay or not, I would give anything to see you and Carina again. If you don't want to return to Brunnfen, then send for me and I'll make the journey to Aberponte.
"I trust this finds you and Carina in good health. May the Lady's hand be upon you," Trygve concluded. "It's signed, 'Renn'."
Cam was silent for a moment. "All these years, and I never imagined a time when Brunnfen would be open to Carina and me again. And now. I don't know what to think."
"There's no rush. It could well be summer before you're back from Dark Haven."
"I don't know what Carina will say. She half raised Renn. I know she'll be grieved to know about mother's passing." Cam sighed. "It's a bit much, all at once."
"Perhaps you'd like to see your visitor now," Trygve suggested. At Cam's nod, he spoke a word to Rhistiart, who went downstairs. Before long, a knock came at the door. Trygve opened the door to admit a plump young woman. She looked decidedly uncomfortable amid the palace's finery, but the glint in her eye was resolute. She spotted Cam in the bed and rushed forward, covering her mouth with her hands to stifle a cry.
"I'll leave you two alone," Trygve said with a wink to Cam. He turned to the woman. "Mind that you can't stay long," he warned. "He's only just awakened. I wouldn't have called for you this quickly under most circumstances."
The young woman nodded. Trygve closed the door behind him. "Cam?" she asked hesitantly.
Cam managed a wan smile. "Hello, Rhosyn."
Rhosyn moved closer, and gasped as she got a good look at Cam's injuries. "Does it hurt?"
"Some. Though I think Trygve's given me enough drugs to fell a cow."
Rhosyn dared to touch his right arm, a rare spot between bandages. "I heard that you'd been captured," she said quietly. "There were guardsmen at the ale house talking about it.
Then Dav, the boy who slops the pigs, saw the wagon when they brought you back. I came to see you, but they wouldn't let me in. The girls in the kitchen gave me a place to stay. I asked after you every day." She looked down. "I hope you don't mind."
"Trygve says I may walk, but he won't promise I can soldier," Cam said, fighting against the drugs that slurred the edges of his words. "Wants me to go to Carina and see what she can do." He tried to put on a brave face. "May be that I'll need Dav's job slopping hogs if they can't put me right."
Rhosyn squared her shoulders. "Don't you say that, Cam. How many times did father tell you that if you get tired of the palace he'd take you for a partner in the brewery? Besides being his best customer, you make a fine mash when the hops are in." "You deserve better than a lamed old war horse like me."
"Are you deaf? Have you not heard a word I've been sayin'? You must take us for the vintners, making wine with our feet. You've a good head on your shoulders, Cam of Cairnrach. You can taste things in the brew others can't. Doesn't take a sturdy back to brew ale, but it needs a nose and a tongue that's above average." She gave him a sideways glance. "And you're smarter than you look, which could get you a good bargain with the growers."
"I don't know how long it will take before they think I'm up to the trip to Dark Haven, or how long I'll be there," Cam warned. Part of him wished desperately that he could take her in his arms, and the rest feared that she would eventually change her mind when she fully realized what a mess Ruggs had made of him.
"Then I'll wait. I've got my dad's stubborn streak. Unless you're wantin' to be rid of me." She phrased it teasingly, but Cam glimpsed uncertainty in her eyes.
"What I want is you beside me, to warm me up. By the Crone! I don't think I'll ever be warm again. As for what else I want, well, between the drugs and the way Trygve's got me bandaged up, anything else will have to wait."