Sometimes he thought he was still in New Kyre, in his bed in the Tower of Kardamnos with Thalastre curled besides him. Of course, she had always risen before he did. She had taken over the management of the Tower of Kardamnos with aplomb, and had not been flustered in the slightest when Kylon had invited the most prominent magistrates and Archons of the Assembly to the Tower. The next day, she had been dead, their unborn child with her. Sometimes he woke up and forgot that it had happened, but not today. His side hurt too much for that, and his back and legs were stiff. He sighed and sat up, examining the stitches and the bandages. None of them looked infected. With the aid of his water sorcery, they would heal, and that would be that. He dropped his bare feet to the cold stone floor and leaned against the cold stone wall. At least he hadn’t had any nightmares. Sometimes he woke up three or four times a night, visions from that final awful day in New Kyre flashing through his mind.
