Ramar sank back into his chair, cradling the rare wine, and propped a foot up on a stool. He sighed in relief as some of the pain ebbed away.

“Is it bad?”

“It’s not good but I’ve been living with it for a long time now.” Ramar shrugged.

“Why weren’t the priests able to patch you up?”

“Likely, the same reason you have a scarring around your eye.”

Jhendayre touched the corner of his left eye self-consciously and Ramar watched his student’s face darken as he replied with a hoarse voice. “I don’t think it is the same, but I understand. Sometimes in battle, not everyone is where they are supposed to be.”

“They were dead. Somehow Drow appeared behind us and slaughtered the healers first. By the time I got this,” Ramar said slapping his thigh, “there was no one left to tend to me. It was only by the twin graces of Corellon and Ioun that anyone found me at all. Come now, all this talk is making me thirsty. On the shelf behind you, you’ll find a couple of goblets and a wine key. Grab those and take a seat.”