Adal’s horse had escaped during the night.

Naturally, he blamed the healer. When that didn’t work, he glared at her. Four hours later, his efforts still hadn’t recovered his horse. He was about to stop glowering and ask for a bit of lunch, when the healer handed him a sack filled with his things and his red travelling leathers.

“Your case was still attached to the horse, so I placed as many of your books as I could in here, along with some cheese and a loaf of bread. I doubt you’ll be moving that cart anywhere soon, so I’ll take it as payment for the bread,”

“You owe me a horse! I put a horse in your care and did not get it back! I demand compensation!”

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“That’s why I threw in some of my cheese,” she said, “It’s a bit of a walk to get back, but if—“

“What kind of cheese?” He asked, tugging the sack open, “A cheese worth its weight in horse would be a fine cheese indeed. Cheese is an investment, I grant you, but so is a horse. Cheese grows in value as it ages, but you can’t bind your books with a twenty year old cheddar! Now how am I supposed to get out of here? It’s a long walk, don’t you know?”

“As I was saying, there is a small footpath northwest of here which goes through Glovedom. If you—”

“And don’t you think for an instant I haven’t forgotten my horse! Even if I do manage to bind these pages with your hirtenkäse, I can’t eat it can I? Now which way do I go? Speak up woman!”

The healer jabbed a finger northward and then slammed shut her door. There was the audible sound of a bolt scraping across wood, and then silence.

“Well, I never. The nerve of today’s youth. I’ve been robbed blind and that’s a fact. I hope the cheese has got figs in. Love a good fig.”