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was aware of him lying awake as I fought my night battles alone. I had no recollection of the dreams, only the wrenching terror they brought me. I had felt fear before. Often. Fear when I had fought Forged ones, fear when we had battled Red Ship warriors, fear when I had confronted Serene. Fear that warned, that spurred, that gave one the edge to stay alive. But the night fear was an unmanning terror, a hope that death would come and end it, because I was broken and knew I would give them anything rather than face more pain.
    There is no answer to a fear like that or the shame that comes after it. I tried anger, I tried hatred. Neither tears nor brandy could drown it. It permeated me like an evil smell and colored every remembrance I had, shading my perception of who I had been. No moment of joy, or passion, or courage that I could recall was ever quite what it had been, for my mind always traitorously added, “Yes, you had that, for a time, but after came this, and this is what you are now.” That debilitating fear was a cowering presence inside me. I knew, with a sick certainty, that if I were pressed I would become it. I was no longer FitzChivalry. I was what was left after fear had driven him from his body.
     
    On the second day after Burrich had run out of brandy, I told him, “I’ll be fine here if you want to go into Buckkeep Town.”
    “We’ve no money to buy more supplies, and nothing left to sell off.” He said it flatly, as if it were my fault. He was sitting by the fire. He folded his two hands together and clasped them between his knees. They had been shaking, just a little. “We’re going to have to manage on our own now. There’s game in plenty to be had. If we can’t feed ourselves up here, we deserve to starve.”
    “Are you going to be all right?” I asked flatly.
    He looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Meaning what?” he asked.
    “Meaning there’s no more brandy,” I said as bluntly.
    “And you think I can’t get by without it?” His temper was rising already. It had become increasingly short since the brandy ran out.
    I gave a very small shrug. “I was asking. That’s all.” I sat very still, not looking at him, hoping he wouldn’t explode.
    After a pause, he said, very quietly, “Well, I suppose that’s something we’ll both have to find out.”
    I let a long time pass. Finally I asked, “What are we going to do?”
    He looked at me with annoyance. “I told you. Hunt to feed ourselves. That’s something you should be able to grasp.”
    I looked away from him, gave a bobbing nod. “I understood. I mean . . . past that. Past tomorrow.”
    “Well. We’ll hunt for our meat. We can get by for a bit that way. But sooner or later, we’ll want what we can’t get nor make for ourselves. Some Chade will get for us, if he can. Buckkeep is as picked over as bare bones now. I’ll have to go to Buckkeep Town, for a while, and hire out if I can. But for now . . .”
    “No,” I said quietly. “I meant . . . we can’t always hide up here, Burrich. What comes after that?”
    It was his turn to be quiet awhile. “I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought. At first it was just a place to take you while you recovered. Then, for a time, it seemed as if you’d never . . .”
    “But I’m here, now.” I hesitated. “Patience,” I began.
    “Believes you dead,” Burrich cut in, perhaps more harshly than he’d intended. “Chade and I are the only ones who know different. Before we pulled you from that coffin, we weren’t sure. Had the dose been too strong, would you be really dead from it, or frozen from your days in the earth? I’d seen what they’d done to you.” He stopped, and for a moment stared at me. He looked haunted. He gave his head a tiny shake. “I didn’t think you could live through that, let alone the poison. So we offered no hope to anyone. And then, when we had you out . . .” He shook his head, more violently. “At first, you were so