Almost a month after his fall, Simon was walking around outside. Mostly, he limited himself to short walks in the garden, but in time, he found he could wander a bit around the upper city, too. He was more than aware of the eyes on him then, though that seemed to be the scars more than anything.

  The first time a child poi him and said, “Look, mommy, a leper,” he decided there and then that he would get some new shirts made to cover the scarring as much as possible and that he would get some gloves to hide the bits of fingers he’d lost.

  The Queen was happy to help him with that, and soon thereafter, tailors had arrived to make him clothes fihan he’d worn in several lifetimes. However, it was only wheiced how the otherwise businesslike tailor shuddered wheouched Simon that he realized that he might be a little more hideous thahought.

  That night, he stared long and hard at himself in the mirror, trying to decide if he should try to ameliorate the scars, but he decided against it. They didn’t really bother him, and whe some clothes that had been cut with this problem in mind, they wouldn’t bother anyone else, either. After all, it wasn’t like anyone was going to see him naked any time soon.

  When Simon was finally healthy enough, he made the long walk up to where he’d almost died with the help of a walking stick. He shouldn’t have do. He was still too weak for a mile walk, but he couldn’t help it. It was something I o see.

  Whe close enough to see the giant statue, he thought for a moment that someone was carving something to orate the occasion. It took him far too long to realize that what he was seeing wasn’t a statue. It was the remains of the monster he’d been fighting, frozen in stone.

  Several thoughts hit Simon at oer that. The first one was that the thing wasn’t dead. It was just frozen in a statue like he’d once been so long ago. The sed realization dispelled any sympathy from the first ohough.

  The statue was on one knee, with its hands raised in the air and its two fists balled together like it was about to deliver the final blow. In that moment Simon could see what he must have looked like. There he was, lying where the ossified va monster had been about to strike, broken beyond any measure. He could see his battered armor and the way it failed to hide the unnatural way his legs were bent. He could evehe fog of cold rising from him while the still-molten Brogan shimmered with heat.

  The monster was going to end me, but it ran out of steam before it could, he thought to himself as he returo his senses and sat back down before he fell over.

  He stayed there for some time, looking at how little separated life ah. “I never would have known if it had succeeded,” he thought with a shrug, trying to put everything in its proper text. “I would have just e bad tried all of this again. So, it's not like any of this matters.”

  It did, though. It mattered to him. He could die, and if he did, he’d e back, but the amount of deaths he was wrag up was starting to weigh on him. He stayed there long enough to think about how hard it was going to be to get back to the pace. Fortunately, someone had thought of that a a curtained panquin to retrieve him. When he asked the guard in charge about that, he just said, “The Queen decided that you were in no fit shape to return under your own power but that you were stubborn enough that you o find that out for yourself.”

  Simon gri that, but he did not disagree. He spent the wo days in bed as a result of his expedition, but every day after that was easier. There were only a couple occasions where he was tempted to find something to drain the life force from something to speed the process, but he resisted. Instead, he took up drinking once more, but only for the pain. He wasn’t much of a fan of white wine whearted, but by the end of the twice or thrice-weekly benders, he had to admit it wasn’t so bad.

  Instead, he stopped and smelled the roses, literally and figuratively. The pace made it clear he was wele to stay as an huest for as long as he liked, and even if some of the nobility were not pleased to see a fner held in such high esteem, they said nothing to him at least.

  So, Simon drew, read voraciously through the pace library, and worked on his map. The resources they had for that were impressive but entirely uandable, given their position as a trade hub.

  Even more than the maps, though, he found himself spending more and more time amongst the books. This was the first opportunity Simon had really had a ce to read for pleasure since his life ba Earth, and he basked in it. At first, he tried to pick books and scrolls that seemed the most practical. He looked for history books and treatises on geography to help tie the world together better in his miually, though, he grew tired of those and focused on books for pleasure. He read children’s stories and books of epic poetry. He read anything that ied him while he waited for his body to heal, and he e immensely.

  Truthfully, aside from the grimoire he’d spent weeks studying once upon a time, he couldn’t remember the st time he’d read anything this substantial since a bihrough the walkthroughs of a particurly challenging game he’d had trouble with when it came out.

  I probably haven’t read for fun since I was a boy, he reflected, w why he’d ever given it up.

  Some days, the doctor would che him, though those visits were less and less frequent now. He spent more time bragging about how he’d saved Simon’s life than he did trying to uand why Simon had survived, which was good because digging too deeply in that regard would not end well for him.

  Other days, the Queen made an appearance. She asked murly about his choi books and what he had learned. She no longer asked how he was doing, though. Instead, she simply chatted with him between her official duties.

  Simon was honored, but whenever he tried to protest, she simply said, “Nonsense, for the hero of Ionar, this is the very least I do.”

  “Well, if I’m such a hero, then why does no oion what happened,” he shot bae day when he grew tired of the statement.

  That gave her pause before she said, “Simon, why do you think it’s a good idea that the less anyone knows about what really happehe better?”

  “Because it might cause a panic?” he guessed, feeliain he khe real answer.

  “It might. Anyone might walk up to the foot of the volo ahe statue you left there, though,” she answered with a shrug. “The rumors have spread far and wide by now, and the shrio pcate it is heavy with flowers and other s. I don’t think there’s any hiding that something supernatural happened; I just think maybe who did it might be a secret better left fotten.”

  “Because it would take tremendous strength to defeat such a foe,” he hazarded, trying again.

  This made her ugh. “Simon, do you know what temperature your armor was when the first guards found your broken body?”

  Simon’s heart sank. All this time, he thought he was hiding the important things, but she khe truth already. “I imagi was quite cold,” he said finally.

  “It was,” she agreed. “It was colder thahat’s quite something under normal circumstances, but when there’s still sm va ging to it… well, I think that’s quite remarkable.”

  “I expin,” he started to answer, but she ignored him.

  “My Vizer says that the armor is quite well made and that he doesn’t reize all of the ruhat were used to make it,” she tinued. “He reehat we should kill you in your sleep just in case that someone was you. Was it?”

  “It was,” Simon answered, tired of lying to the people who had saved his life. “I put that armether for the express purpose of this eruption.”

  “Impressive,” she answered, leaning forward to rest her on her interwoven hands. “But how precisely did you know that Mount Karkosia was going to erupt?”

  “That’s more plicated,” Simon said after only a short pause.

  “More plicated than making magical armhting a monster of legend?” she answered with a smirk. “More plicated than knowing several terrible words or fessing all of these facts to the Queen of Ionar? You are a strange man, Mister Simon. I look forward to finding out the rest of your story.”

  “I leave if you prefer,” he said finally.

  “Why would I want you to leave after I’ve spent so much time hiding your secret for you?” she asked.

  “Well, your Vizer—” he started to say.

  “Refuses to meet with you, but he has promised me that he will strike you down the moment you even think of using magic. Is that uood?” she asked, suddenly serious.

  “It is,” Simon said, suppressing a grin. He’d used half a dozen spells since he’d been here, and the man hadn’t dohing to him, which meant he had er way of deteg magic than Simon did: watg it happen.

  “Good, then there’s no reason for you to leave any time soon,” she smiled.

  “I do pn to leave when I’ve recovered, though,” he told her. “There’s more I o do.”

  “More voloes to fight, are there?” she asked, with glittering eyes.

  “ on my list is a dragon, actually,” he said with a smile that made it impossible to tell that he was being serious.

  “A dragon?” she ughed again. “Now that is impressive. If you told me you’d sin a dragon before, I’d almost believe it.”

  “I haven’t,” he admitted. “A wyvern, a troll, a ba… a batch of goblins like you wouldn’t believe, and a few other things. ”

  He ged as he realized he’d almost told her about the basilisk. That had been too close.

  “Oh, I look forward to these stories,” she answered, leaning bad stretg just enough to show off her figure before she rose. “But if you try to crib from any of these books and pass them off as your own exploits, I’ll know. I’ve read nearly every book in here.”

  “Nearly?” he asked.

  “Well, except for the b ones,” she agreed. They both ughed at that.

  The Quee him then, but he tio smile long after she was go was the first time in a long time that someone had gotten a hint of who he really was without shying away at all. He liked that and hoped that would tinue if he worked up the o tell her more.