It took Santulím several passages to regain his balance and the semblance of health. He was shut up in a tent on the edge of the encampment, forbidden to come out, even for the relief of his most natural urges.
In the imprisoning darkness, said to be good for his recovery, Santulím had plenty of time to think and remember all that had passed.
He made multiple requests after his friend Lypsum, but the chef, his sole visitor, insisted he had not seen the young scholar at all for several passages. Santulím worried for his friend’s safety, but a small part of him also wondered.
Despite the return of Santulím’s health, it was decided that he should wait a couple more passages before making the journey back to Jotheim.
–In truth, it is out of respect for the King’s oath.—said the chef.
–and to preserve their own worthless sacks.—replied Santulím, irritably.
–That is the chief duty of every good citizen.—the chef replied.—Shared misfortunes are a fool’s wages.—
–And Pleonís has no friends in need.—Santulím spoke grimly.—if that is my lot, then so be it. But where shall I go upon returning to the Court? Surely I cannot stay there.—
–You are young.—replied the chef.—A contract at court doesn’t expire until a monarch says it expires. If you wish to maintain your station, stay out of the way.—
–I see the way of life in the Court of the Eagles is precarious.—
–Stakět.—The Chef said, in an entirely different tone of voice, and left.