Runa’s song had become little more than a buzzing in the background of Jorir’s attention as he bruised the honeyed leaves in the mortar and prayed the other two would hurry up.
At least Lord Einarr didn’t seem to be growing any worse now. Given enough time, the song magic could probably handle it. Only, they didn’t have that much time. Einarr needed to be back on his feet before they approached their goal, or they might not make it out. At least, Jorir didn’t think any of them would be willing to leave him behind. Even Irding, though new to the crew, seemed to have taken to the Captain’s son.
“Feathery leaves and flat flower clusters, right?”
Jorir nearly jumped out of his skin at Erik’s sudden voice behind him. “Right.”
“There aren’t any white ones, but I found some that are kind of pink?”
He turned around to…
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