“Tell me what happened,” Bubs demanded.
“Not awake. Weak body. Weak air.”
Bubs turned on his stool and stared at the borman. For once, his annoyance was not directed at Yu.
“How long has he been unconscious?”
Now it was the borman who stared.
“How long is he not awake?” Bubs rephrased.
“Since Teharun.”
“Teharun last night?”
“Yes. Last Teharun.”
“Did you encounter witches?”
“No.”
“Were you caught in spells? Traps?”
“No.”
“Did you see any odd runes or markers? Did you sense or hear anything on the trail that seemed strange?”
“Many things.”
“Then what happened before he fell asleep?” Bubs pressed.
“Many things. Happened. Only rest, for he. Heal Abar leg. Now. Please.”
Of course the borman wanted his human treated first. What did he mean, a bar? A mislearned word in Teh, or something from the borman language?
“Trust that we will do our best for the girl,” said Bubs. “The shaman is preparing potions now, to ease her pain and to strengthen her. I will work on the leg when the time is right.”
Yu’s eyes flicked to the shaman. She was at the far end of the room, with her back to him, arranging bottles along a slim workbench hewn from the stone.
“Meanwhile, we get him out of that gear,” Bubs continued. “Everything but base layers. What‘s all this? Does he carry any artefacts?”
The question snapped Yu’s attention to the selder’s clothes. A harness and several small packs clung to him, secured in tightly woven loops across his chest and shoulders. Though it was a lot, everything seemed organised. Tools and tokens hung from his belt, amongst them a hollow-bone needle, a shard of mica wrapped in tarnished wire, and a flint-hafted blade barely the length of a claw. There were tiny pouches, wax-sealed scroll tubes, and one fabric bundle stitched from something like kelp. Bubs did not touch any of it. Instead, he leaned over the selder, tugging loose the end of a scarf and pulling it free. Then he pressed two fingers against his throat, his forehead, and his cheek.
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