Kre nodded and did as he was directed. He grabbed what he needed from the closet and entered the Master’s suite with the bright white linens. He was immediately struck by the smell of blood and iron, thick in the air. He shook his head to try and clear the smell, but it seemed to be everywhere. The only escape from the sharp smell was to bury his nose in the clean linens in his arms.
Virryn gave him a sad look and jerked her head towards a small hall leading away from their room. “Go to him,” she said softly. “But, be careful. He might not be all there. He has suffered quite a lot.”
She took the linens from Kre and gently pushed him towards the indicated room. As Kre made his way down the hall, he noted the smell getting stronger and more… sour. That was the only word that Kre had for the sharp tang it left in the back of his throat. He rested a hand on the door handle and paused, unsure if he was ready for what he might find.
“Just open the door,” came a strained, muffled voice from the other side.
Kre jumped back a full length as if the door had bitten him. “What the…” he stammered, all thoughts of the sour smell gone from his mind.
The door opened slowly and a familiar black-skinned face peeked out at him. “I shall have the mutton stew with fresh bread please, and plenty of water. I have been dying here.”
Without another second wasted, Kre stepped forward again and reached out his hand as if to touch Kersath’s face to see if he were indeed real. “Kersath,” he whispered, “are you okay?”
“You will be without a hand if you try to touch me,” the dark Ylveryan snarled, though his lips were twisted up slightly, just slightly in an unconscious smile.
Kre redirected his hand and rested it on the door, intending to push it fully open so the conversation might be less awkward. However, he found that the door would not budge any further. “Are you blocking the door?” he asked.
“It is… not good in here,” Kersath said, choosing his words carefully. Kre tried to peek around the Ylveryan, but Kersath knew well how to fill the narrow gap in the doorway. “Besides, you cannot stay long. It was foolish of you to come here in the first place.”
“Beleg needs help coming up with a plan,” Kre spat out. After Kersath pointed it out, he understood the truth of how little time they might have and he intended to use what was left to further their cause. “Ortho and Gnore are somewhere deeper. Beleg hasn’t seen them personally, but one of our new allies did and said they were in decent health. We had no word of you except that…” he trailed off, unsure of how to say the words that they believed Kersath to have been badly beaten.
“Except that I was chained here, near death?” Kersath said. “I say we have little time, and you still spend it dancing with words.” Kersath shook his head. “I am a fast healer, and I have my situation well in hand. Beleg and Dain should know better than to worry over me. “In any case,” Kersath continued, “I am not the one that needs your weepy tears. Save that for Beleg. He is in grave danger.”