...I knew him well! Though apparently not well enough. Never in my days have I seen him in this kind of shape. Perhaps it is best that I left off with the Viking Brew when I did. The lad can hardly walk nor talk. Moss' potent remedy seems to have taken the sting out of the venom, but it has also taken the starch out of the warrior. He quietly curls into a ball in a convenient corner of the tent, and begins to snore softly. I tuck his ornate drinking horn into his arms and Moss wraps his cape snugly around him.

"Well, Milady," I say. "At least he sleeps among friends. He will not lose the bit of coin he has left, nor his fine souvenir of the festival." I rummage in my pouch for a moment. "And speaking of souvenirs, I see you haven't had the time to get out to the shops. Most are closed down now, and you've nothing for yourself but what you've got in trade." I hand her one of the carved horn cloak-pins. "Take this gift as a remembrance of the gathering, if you would, please."

She smiles and thanks me, and I prepare to take my leave. "I have a few things I must needs attend to ere the night is much older. I shall return in the morning and we can all go home together, if you like." Scooping up my harp and giving the kit a good scratch behind the ears, I bow myself out of the healer's tent.

My first stop is the Big Bavarian Beer tent...