Arven smiled despite himself, unable to resist a hint of amusement and admiration at the lady’s ways. First off she proclaimed robustness; a rare thing in her gender, which was normally so much quicker to express delicacy. And secondly she repeated her concern, with both the care and the curiosity of a bonafide healer.

Waves of dizziness continued to crash against his skull, forcing him to maintain his grip on the wall, but Arven owed his saviour an explanation. ”I’m recovering from an illness, madam”, he replied graciously, illness being something of an understatement but by no means inaccurate. ”I’m fresh discharged from St Mungo’s, though the healer did not warn me to expect precarious swaying over whatever kind soul passes by…”