"A tincture of osdyke berries and gallen root." "Whatever for?" "It helps with congestion in the lungs. Shrey - Diran's widow - gets it every now and then. She has done since the plague. "But I suppose I'll be going back without it now." And that sends a sudden sharp pang of guilt through her, because at the heart of it all, this journey was for Shrey. Never mind Nikhil and the annoying wizard, whatever they wanted, Shrey was more important. "I'm sure I can find you a bag from the infirmary," Rohin says with a smile, stopping to unlock a door. "I mean, you did leave the artefacts with us, even if unintentionally. Seems only fair." "Won't you need to ask the infirmarer?" Rohin swings the door open with a grin to reveal a bright, airy room with shelves full of small bottles and a wide workbench. "I am the infirmarer!"