"Broth is traditional but you seem like you could take porridge," the Sister Apothecary says. "Good for blood loss, porridge. Aren't you hungry? Boys are... always hungry?" She makes a little unhappy sound when he gets up, a kind of oh dear.

Lashan looks more her age than she had on the battlefield. There's the cane, but also her broad shoulders are more stooped, her back less straight. Her knuckles and healing nose are swollen. Her skin is brown and leathery enough that bruises aren't as clear as they might otherwise be but dark smudges still show. She surveys the boy, frowning.

"Horse kicked me in the head when I was seven and now it's soft," she says, reflexively evading the question, and then waves her free hand in an annoyed gesture. Lashan will absolutely not tell him she felt sorry for him and that makes it a lot harder to try to explain. "I wanted to know who was who in that battle and if Lord Heshain's people were on either side. Didn't see his flag or coat of arms anywhere but he's hid them before. And I don't like killing kids." She shakes her head. "I meant it when I said we weren't there for slaves. You can go when you've the strength to walk out. We've got your clothes cleaned and mended and your sword, though I have to say it's in poor condition."