
I must have fallen asleep, for my next memory is of the early morning sunlight streaming through the narrow window of Khalim’s room. My neck ached from sleeping upright, and my tongue was dry in my mouth. Someone was walking quietly around the common room, careful not to disturb those who still slept.
I pulled myself to my feet and turned to Khalim. His eyes remained closed, though his breathing had grown uneven, and I could not tell whether he had awoken. Had the medicine Garvesh had mixed for him done its work? There was no way for me to tell; I had no skill for medicine.
Whoever you are, I prayed to Khalim’s god, though I knew not if he could hear me, you must not let him die.
Continue reading “Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter XII”
