By the end of his convalescence, he was sick of soup and stew. He wanted to swear off of it.

Knowing the old woman's caution with his illness, he made a show of getting up out of bed himself, and dressed before she even arrived with his morning meal.

" Oh, Lady Hélna," she said as she came in, "Are you certain you've recovered?"

He nodded vigorously.

She looked pleased, and bent down to pet a kitten as it brushed against her leg.

" Let me go tell Yrnhold," she said. " Showman that he is, he wishes to hold a feast to celebrate Lady Hélna slaying the wraith."

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