Khaylan attempted to wave away the healer, but whether from his own exhaustion or some such tale magic, the pressure of her hand on his chest felt as unmoveable as a mountain, and he was half pushed and half lowered back onto the bed. After a few moments, he felt a damp cloth being g pressed to his forehead, a shiver passing through his body. "I'm fine...," he protested, trying in vain to sound commanding.

He wondered of the gods were punishing him somehow. What a strange coincidence that the witch just happened to find him, and then not twenty minutes later he was attacked by a gang of theives and very nearly killed. And to think, this was supposed to be such a good day for him. 

He muttered curses under his breath, giving up on trying to rise for now as the healer tended to his wounds. His shoulder ached, but he found that he could move it, even though the effort caused him great pain. If he could only find his sword...

He heard more voices coming from elsewhere in the house. "Who else is here?," he asked, "and how did I get here?