“Would someone mind telling me why I have straw stabbing my back?” For someone who had just awoken from a grievous injury, Einarr sounded remarkably collected.
“Presumably,” Jorir grumbled. “Because you did something reckless again. You must have left half your blood on the last floor.”
“I assure you, the alternative would have left more of it. …So? How do we get past this floor?”
“I think we already did.” Irding’s steps sounded as he approached. “There’s a door on the other side now. Doesn’t look like it’s locked.”
Jorir harrumphed.
“Well. I suppose if there was ever any doubt that they knew we were here, that ends it. That wound I took below, though – it shouldn’t have been that bad. Not after I got it bound up.”
“And maybe it wouldn’t have been, if we’d seen it fresh. But tell me, what were you doing after you bandaged…
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