Sigrid squinted, and now she could see the vague outlining of her new acquaintance Mildemaer. Ye Gods, had her eyesight always been this poor? Her face shifted in and out of focus, as did the rest of her vision. Then, the headaches began. Sigrid was about to answer when it struck, and instead of words, all that came out of her was a pathetic mewl. She doubled over, clutching her head. Her broth returned the way it had gone down, spilling across the wooden flooring. "I'm sick . . . I'm . . . " she moaned, afraid that she would spit more bile.