The two reached the road side by side and raced laughing all the way to the castle. The sun was high in the clear blue sky, and both felt the joy of life running strong in them.

Durwin’s worktable was stacked high with dusty scrolls and hide-bound volumes. He sat hunched over the table on a high stool, chin in hand, mumbling to himself as he read. His hair was long and almost completely white now, but his eyes were quick as ever and his limbs sound. He appeared a man half his natural age.

Abruptly he raised his head and sniffed the air. “Ah!” he cried, jumping up. He dashed at once to a small brazier where a black iron pot was bubbling away on the hot coals. It had boiled over, and black smoke rolled toward the rafters. He picked up a long wooden spoon nearby and was stirring the pot when a voice called out from the doorway.

“Phew! Good hermit, what is that prodigious stench? It is most foul!”

Durwin glanced up to see the Queen Dowager standing in his wide doorway watching him, her nose crinkled in frank disgust.

“Alinea! What!-you do not care for my poultice? ‘Tis a powerful curative for aches of the joints.”

“It is to be wondered whether the aches would not be more enjoyable.”

“My patients, I assure you, do not mind its aromatic qualities.”

“Your patients?”

“I call them patients, my Lady. This is for Toli.”

“Certainly Toli has no need of this.”

“His horses, madam. I am making it for his horses, although it would not hurt the rider in any case, if need were great.”

“And nose were strong!” she said, laughing. “But mine is not. Come away from your labors a little, hermit. I would have someone to walk with in the garden.”

Durwin smiled and bowed. “I would be delighted. Just the thing. I have been too long among these vapors, or I would have thought of it myself.”