Okrol woke in an unfamiliar bed; scratchy sheets and moth eaten blankets were firmly tucked around him. Bandages lay tenth-fold around his sore head. Okrol dared to open his eyes. He was lying in a small room with one window, its light brown, bug-eaten window frame held a thin, dirty pane of glass which looked on to a dusty market town. The rest of the room was light green: the curtains, the bed clothes, even the door to the room was painted light green.
Okrol moved warily under the bad clothes. He was half naked and his head hurt terribly when he moved. Plucking up both courage and strength, he heaved himself out of bed and shuffled slowly across the lime room to where his clothes were draped over a wooden chair. His body shook as he lifted his shirt over his head with his muscled arms. The dirty brown of his clothing matched the lightly coloured room in a dissonant kind of way.
After successfully applying his clothes to his body, Okrol stepped over to the browning window. Outside were traders standing by their stalls, pestering travellers to buy their goods. Dry stones littered the ground; Okrol thought himself and Arboar must have stopped the night in Lampito; he remembered seeing this sort of ground on the road before he fell asleep. His thoughts now turned to Arboar and the relationship he had with his father – why is it that Arboar happened to turn up at my house on the night of the attack and where is he taking me? It surely can't be here; it's too close to Greygoff. If more Riders followed up the mountain road, they would surely catch up with us if we stayed here.
After pondering his thoughts for a moment, Okrol heard wooden thuds issuing from a staircase not far from the door to his room. Expecting Arboar to enter, Okrol parked himself on the bed. The door opened, allowing a cloud of dust to blow silently into the room, glowing as the particles passed through the light of the window. Accompanying the debris was a maid, her hair tied back with a thin piece of string. She was one of the loveliest girls Okrol had ever set eyes on. Her beautiful brown eyes sparkled as she laid a water jug down on the table next to his bed, and pouring liquid into Okrol's glass, she smiled before saying-
“Nice to see you're up. We've been worried about you. It's past midday.”
“Thank you. I'm OK, though my head still hurts.” returned Okrol, trying to sound both manly and defenceless at the same time.
“I'm glad to here such. Mr Arboar is downstairs in the lounge. He's waiting for you. And yes, that cut does look nasty; you need new bandages, I think. I'll fetch Pam to sort your bandage out – and dress you properly.” she finished laughing, gesturing at the creases on his jacket and his askew shirt. Okrol laughed with her before she departed through the light green door.
Pam came a few short minutes later carrying a clean new bandage cloth. Like the maid before her, her opening of the door sent a fresh draft of dust across the room. Pam was a middle-aged lady. Wrinkles were starting to appear on her lightly tanned, freckled skin. Her voice was husky from a life of smoking a 'passer-pipe'; a very long pipe filled with dried tobacco leaves.
“You must be Okrol.” she said slightly smiling.
“Yes, Miss.”
“How are you? Herley said your head was sore.”
“Herley?” Okrol questioned.
“Our young maid you met before. Surely you haven’t forgotten her already.”
“No.” answered Okrol defensively. “Where am I?” he questioned.
“In the town of Lampito.” she said. “We are one of the best inns in town. Your friend thought well bringing you here.” she answered smugly.
Okrol had never thought of Arboar as a friend. But now he thought of it, for the time being, Arboar was the only friend he had- and he did save my lif, afterall.
Pam released the bandages from Okrol's head. The dirty cloths were blood-stained; Okrol winced as they were freed from his scalp. Although he couldn't see her face, Okrol heard Pam breathe heavily at the sight of his bloody head.
“That needs to be bathed properly.” she said, concerned. Okrol dreaded having his head exposed to water, but he knew she was, unfortunately probably right.
Arboar casually walked into the room.
“Hello, Okrol. Nice to see you. Are you well?” Arboar asked.
“Yes, thank you. How are you?”
“Oh, I'm fine as always.” returned Arboar before signalling to Pam to accompany him outside the room. Pam reluctantly got up and followed him out; she really wanted to bathe Okrol's wounds.
Arboar and Pam were gone for quite a while. Okrol wondered whether they had forgotten he was in there. But surely enough, they both re-entered the room, this time, Pam brought in a dull grey basin made from tin metal. In the basin, under the warm, soap-less water, was a flannel. Moth eaten like almost everything else in the inn, the flannel was lime green and very rigid.
There's no way she's using that on my head he thought to himself at the sight of the flannel being lifted from the basin. Pam brought the flannel closer towards Okrol's head. His eyes widened suddenly and he moved as quickly as he could, bringing his back further and further backward from a sitting position. He lay on the bed almost crying in fear.
“Now, now, son. You can't run away from every little pas-hap in life.” insisted Pam. Arboar stood, his eyes pressing into Okrol's scared ones. Okrol's saviour was definitely studying him; examining him. Eventually Okrol gave in and let Pam's soft touch administer the treatment he needed.
After minutes of quiet sobs, Pam's work was done. Okrol's head was clean but had a gaping cut about four inches long across the back of his head.
“What actually happened to my head?” asked Okrol.
“The Riders hit you with something when we were still in Greygoff.” answered Arboar. “They must have hit you with something quite heavy to knock you out and leave a cut like that; you're lucky to be alive at all.”
Arboar spoke some more words that Okrol had never heard before. Suddenly, Okrol's skin on the back of his head linked itself back together. It stung a little as the spell mended the furrowed flesh, cleansing it and shutting it, stopping any infection from passing into Okrol's head. Okrol was left with a slim scar, causing a pale, bald line to run down the back of his scalp. Weight was lifted from Okrol's aura; he almost laughed in happiness and amazement.
“Thank you, sir.” Okrol said, feeling the soft, smooth patch on his head.
“My pleasure. Ah...yes, we will get treatment for that from in town.” returned Arboar, aiming his head at the back of Okrol's. “But for now, wear this.” he finished before taking his own cream coloured hat off and tossing it to Okrol who received it gratefully.
Pam stood, her eyes as far open as her mouth. She had never seen anything so magnificent.
“Mr Arboar, sir. How did you do that?” she asked.
“Many years of practice.” he said simply.
The door swung back open. It was the maid from before, Herley. Okrol was glad to see her but wiped the drying tears from his eyes and hid his bald patch under the hat.
“Mr and Mrs Blunda want to see you, Pam.” said Herley.
“OK, Herley. Is there anything they don't want?” said Pam sarcastically.
“I'll be coming down too.” said Arboar. “We'll leave young Okrol to rest.”
Pam and Arboar swiftly departed the room, leaving Okrol and Herley together. To Okrol's delight, a small smile appeared on Herley's smooth, beautiful face. He returned the smile and she walked slowly away, departing the room, opening the door to emit another wave of dust into the room.
