"Theyre cured," said Pazel quickly, very glad they were alone. No one on the Eniel knew about his mind-fits.
"Cured?" said the doctor. "How did you manage that?"
Pazel shrugged. "I bought some medicine in Sorhn. Everyone goes to Sorhn for that kind of thing."
"Everyone does not live under the influence of magic spells," said Chadfallow. "And how much did they charge you for this . . . medicine?"
"They took . . . what I had," admitted Pazel, frowning. "But it was worth every penny. Id do it again tomorrow."
Chadfallow sighed. "I dare say you would. Now what about your teeth?"
Pazel looked up, startled by the quick change of focus: his mind-fits were the doctors favorite subject. "My teeth are just fine," he said carefully.
"Thats good. But this tea is not. Taste it."
Chadfallow passed him the cup, and watched as he drank.
Pazel grimaced. "Its bitter," he said.
"More bitter for you than me. Or so you may well imagine."
"What do you mean by that?" Pazels voice rose in confusion. "Why are you all so odd?"
But like the duchess and the soap man, Chadfallow merely turned to face the sea. And all through that nights crossing he showed no more interest in Pazel than in the common sailors who bustled around him.
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