Darkham took Wench to meet Wyrm while Minx went to find Jo. They found a room in the middle of nothing. There was a heavy wooden door with a small window with bars on it. Wench frowned. “Who’s choice was this?” She whispered. “The boy’s. No one has made any changes, except adding furniture for visits. It’s always gone the next time.” Wench nodded and knocked. “Come in,” a voice called. Darkham led the way. As always, Wyrm was sitting on his bed. “Wyrm, I’d like you to meet one of my wives, Wench.” “One of?” The boy raised an eyebrow. “You have more than one?” Darkham nodded. “I have two. Dwarves can have up to three spouses.” “Wyrm, what is this place?” Wench asked. “It’s where I grew up.” “Is this your bedroom?” Wyrm thought a moment. “My Menthan isn’t very good. I don’t know what you mean.” “The room you sleep in.” “Cramda called it my cell. Yes, I sleep here.” “You feel safe here, don’t you?” Wyrm shrugged. “It’s familiar.” “Can you show me the rest of the place?” Wench asked. Wyrm frowned. “You do know you can change this place how you want?” “They told me. But Cramda didn’t like me leaving here without permission.” “Dear, Cramda’s dead.” “I know. But…” “You don’t want the enemy to see the place?” Wench guessed. “Oh, for pity’s sake, the place was destroyed,” Darkham blurted out. “Destroyed? My home is gone?” Wyrm looked stricken. “Dark, go wait in the hall,” Wench snapped. “You have no tact.” “Sorry.” Darkham stood to go. “You can stay,” Wyrm said. The dwarf hesitated, looking to his wife. “Just keep your mouth shut.” “Was it the fire?” Wyrm asked. Darkham nodded. “What fire?” Wench wanted to know. “Dragons attacked to rescue Chapado and their friends. They use their dragon breath and the immortals used fireballs.” “How about you show me the battle,” Wench suggested. “I didn’t see it. Cramda kept me hidden. I think he didn’t want me to see Ann or maybe for the others to see me.” “Would you like to see where I’m from?” Wench offered. “Grywell?” Wench nodded. Wyrm hesitated. He’d never left the house. “We’ll be right back. Cramda won’t care. We can take him with us if you want.” She made Cramda appear. Wyrm flinched and coward, though he tried to hide it. “Wyrm, you can go with Wench if you want. I’ve other things to do.” Wench made the phantasmic Cramda say, and he left. Wench caught Wyrm’s reaction to seeing Cramda. She figured it would be better if he weren’t there. “He sounded more like Thailyn,” Wyrm laughed. Wench shrugged. “I never met him. I have no idea what he sounds like.” “How did you know what he looks like?” “I saw a drawing of him.” “Maybe you can make that wall open to Grywell.” He gestured to the wall across from the sleeping pallet. “I can stay in my cell, but still see it.” Wench nodded. The room opened up to the village she and Minx had just left. There was a bustle of people. A small child ran past, followed by Minx. Wyrm’s eyes were drawn to the child with both wonder and curiosity. Wench wondered if he’d ever seen a child. “That’s our grandson,” Wench told him. They visited a while longer until Darkham said they needed to go. When they returned to the waking world, they found Mishtali and Shunati waiting. “Well?” Mishtali asked. “He’s scared, confused, and lost. He’s been abused mentally and physically by Cramda. He fears and distrusts him, but doesn’t trust us any better. Waking him up will help.” “We can’t,” Shunati told her. “He’s unstable.” “He’s scared. He reacted out of fear.” “Emeton wants him confined until after the trial.” “Then try him already.” “We will as soon as there are healers available.” “Until then, encourage him to leave his cell. Don’t force him. Open a wall to a new location. Show him the city, Baj-tisk, or Tricon. Include people and plenty of kids. He seems unfamiliar with them but his dragon half is drawn to them. “And visitors. He’ll learn to trust us, the more he gets to know us.” Mishtali frowned. “That’s it?” “That’s to start. What did you expect? A couple of potions and bed rest? This isn’t like healing the body. There is no magic. It takes work and time. It’s going to take time just to learn all the damage. I can’t read him like a healer does and he can’t give me a list of symptoms. He doesn’t even know there’s anything wrong. We aren’t dealing with a single traumatic event or even a series of them. We’re dealing with his whole life, everything he’s ever known. It’s going to take a very long time and he may never fully recover.” Mishtali stood frowning, looking at his son. Then he nodded. “So be it.” “I think you would do well coming to see us too. Come by the house this afternoon. We’ll work from there until we can set up a shop.” Darkham bit his lip to keep from smiling. If she was taking on other patients and talking about a shop, they were going to stay.