Dearest Zann,

I don’t remember waking up. I do remember some muttering about ants, and some pain under my arms. And then, a while later, I was awake, and I had been awake for some time.

When I started thinking, I realized that I was in some chamber in Ambe’s lair. I was on a pallet on the floor and there was moss on my neck and chest. It was dark. Tharus was there, dangling from a fat rope that was swagged across the chamber.

“You’ve been down for a while,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Weak,” I said weakly and scratchily. “And scratchy.”

“Well, you’ve got a right to. You know how long you were down in that hole?”

“Couldn’t tell.”

“It was about three days. Much longer and thirst would have finished you. Did you try drinking your own piss? I know some fellows try that when they don’t have water.”

“No. Doesn’t work. Learned in army.”

“Anyway. We couldn’t find you, and I was the only one they could spare to really search. So Ambe gave me a little magic fan. Helped my nose search out older smells. I was all over the palace trying to find your trail. My advantage was I could ignore all the usual places you’d go, because we already knew you weren’t there. Finally I got a whiff of you down below Comet Halls, and then it was easy. You smelled pretty ripe.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome. The trouble was hauling you up out of there. I could climb up and down pretty good, but I couldn’t carry you while I did it. So I got some rope and tied it around your chest and pulled you up that way.”

“Thanks for saving me. This moss for?”

Tharus shrugged, which looked unnatural for his anteater shoulders. “I think it’s putting water back into your body. I don’t know why you can’t just drink it. Anyway, there’s water next to you if you want. Go slow, you don’t want to puke.”

I looked. There was a pitcher of water and a mug. I wanted to drain the whole thing, but I sipped obediently. It felt wonderful. I cleared my throat. “Is there food?”

“Probably. Ambe will be back soon. We’re all pretty busy around here. Even me.”

I nodded. “What’s happening? What has Lord Clear been doing?”

He shrugged again. “A little of everything. He hasn’t been back to the palace, which I appreciate. Right now I think he’s in the ruins of Cas Crid calling himself the King of Crideon.”

Love,

Ybel