The hours dragged on like days.
Sonder sat at the base of the tower staircase, her arms wrapped around her knees.
Every sound she heard from above made her uneasy: footsteps, the creak of wood, and the muffled shuffle of cloth.
She had washed the dirt from her face and body and cleaned her clothes as best she could, though after everything they've experienced, though after everything they had endured, they were little more than rags, and she had eaten - just bread, which tasted like dust for how little she cared about food.
None of it kept her mind from circling back to the room at the top of the tower.
Was he better now? Or worse? Had the tears worked? Her thoughts spun downward.
Until footsteps came from the stairs above.
The Yellow Mage descended.
Sonder leapt to her feet. "How is he?"
"He's not dead," he said. "It's not a cure, not yet. He walks the edge still, though the ground beneath him is firmer than it was before."
Sonder clung to that. It was not a cure, but not death either.
The Yellow Mage studied her for a moment, more curious and suspicious than he had been before.
"Vellichor," he started. "He has lived many lifetimes. Seen countless ages. What does he seek now, traveling with a girl like you at his side?"
"I'm not just a girl to him," she said.
"No?" the mage asked.
"I'm his daughter," Sonder said firmly. The words came without hesitation.
The glow behind the mage's wraps sharpened. "His daughter, you say? Then who is your mother?"
That stunned Sonder.
"Limerence," she said after a moment. "The Scarlet Sorceress."
The Yellow Mage straightened. He said nothing at first, only searched her face as though weighing the truth of it. Then he murmured, "Limerence? I have never heard that name. And I make it my work to know the names of sorcerers worth remembering."
Sonder's brow furrowed. Limerence should have been known, if not feared, then at least respected. For him never to have heard of her was a strange thing.
The mage's gaze dropped, and for the first time his eyes rested on the sword hilt protruding from Sonder's chest.
"That wound," he said evenly. "You've carried it longer than most could survive. If you wish, I could take it out. A child should not bear such a weight."
Sonder's lips parted, ready to say no, but he was already reaching forward. His wrapped hands pressed gently against the hilt, power stirring faintly between his palms.
Then he stopped. The glow behind his wrappings dimmed a shade. His hands drew back.
"I see," he murmured. "Not alive, then. No wonder you endure as you do."
Sonder tensed.
The Yellow Mage only adjusted his wraps, as though setting aside the matter. "You need not fear my reaction. You are not the first of your kind I have met, nor will you be the last."
He turned from her, already stepping toward the stairs again. "Keep yourself busy until tomorrow. Do not disturb me until then. I will have clearer news by the morrow."