Sonder had settled beside Vell's bed again, knees drawn up beneath her chin, arms wrapped tightly around them.
The hours dragged as she sat there, listening to the slow rise and fall of his chest.
Tomorrow she would leave, and she didn't know when she might see him again.
She thought the Yellow Mage was finished with him for the day, resting after long days of work. But then his steps came again, steady and deliberate, by the spiral stairs.
She looked up as he entered. In his hand he carried something small, pale, and curved.
"Is that for him?" she asked.
The mage shook his head. "No," he said. "This is for you. I want to offer you something."
Slowly, Sonder pushed herself up to her feet.
The Yellow Mage held the object out, letting the lantern light catch it so she could see clearly. It was a rib, smooth and faintly luminous.
"A rib?" she asked.
"Not a natural one," he explained, his tone clinical. "It was grown with my craft, carved, and made ready. If I implant it in you, it will act as a tether between us."
"Just like you gave Vell."
He nodded. "When Vellichor's condition worsens, I will notify you. And when I use one of the remaining two tears, you will know that as well, wherever you are."
Sonder stared at the curved bone, then turned her gaze to the tears of the goddess that sat on the table beside Vell. Two were left to keep him alive.
The Yellow Mage must have read the thought in her face. "I will tell you the truth," he said. "Even if you brought back more, they would not grant him more than scraps of time. The tears were not made for this. They do not conquer, and the evil in Vell grows strong; in time, a tear wouldn't give him a second."
She wanted to ask what she was meant to do, how she was meant to carry on with nothing.
"I know what you are thinking," he said.
"Then can't you help me?" Sonder said, upset.
"Help? With what? Coin? Food? Supplies? You will want to go prepared, no? But I have little left to give, and even less that you would truly need. I have no love for you, nor do I bear you spite. You are simply not mine to provide for."
Sonder looked down.
The mage continued. "You are a mage, and you carry a sword. That is more than most travelers ever begin with. That is all you truly require. If hunger takes you, ask a farmer if you even eat. If you tire, ask for a blanket. The villagers will not turn away a child. That is the provision you can count on, and it will have to suffice."
His voice never sharpened, never softened. It was always matter-of-fact.
At last, he crouched before her, the pale rib resting across his palm like an offering. "Do you accept it?" he asked. "The procedure will be simple. Not painless, but simple."