"One moment, then. Take your shirt off, I will look to it when I return." Her tone is brisk and businesslike, and she wipes her hands on her thighs as she turns to stride to her own suite. Inside, herbs she grew and gathered before the Arena hang from the curtain rail, a sadly small offering. She lingers there a moment, considering, then gathers a couple of the strings of dried leaves and rejoins Fitz in the common area.

"They have no mortars and pestles here," she tells him, with an apologetic little smile, and holds out a little selection of leaves. "Chew these. They will do you no harm, but try not to swallow; I only need them broken down."