FOURTEEN
Bernard slipped in and out of consciousness, helped in no small part by his magic potion. Sleeping so much meant he had less appetite. He had no idea how long it had been since Gosse left, but as he was now down to one last, wrinkled apple, he figured it must be at least a week. He needed more food, more wood, more water, and hadn't the physician said his bandages would need changing about now?
If only his leg would stop hurting. He'd never known pain like this before, and more than once he'd considered using his own sword to end it. But he was not that desperate yet.
Twice, he'd woken to find the fire had gone out, and he'd had to relight it, or freeze. But that couldn't be the case this time, he thought. The fire burned merrily in the grate, and something was bubbling on the
