"Time to soothe his conscience later" Trina thinks as she looks over the 4 scorched wounds in the strangers back. "He's still breathing. Bertold, do something!" she demands, and then she moves back to allow Bertold room to do his ministering.

Bertold looks up at her, his expression clearly asking "should I waste a spell on someone outside our group?", only to have her return glare shame him into action. Quickly calling on Tyria's great powers, he watches as the familiar blue glow travels out from his hands to the wounds, beginning the healing process even as he watches. Saying another silent prayer to Tyria to make him both more watchful and more insightful in future encounters, Bertold stands up and turns to Trina.

"He should be better in a few minutes, though I'm sure those burns will hurt for a while. I'll make him a salve to ease that if and when the situation here calms down." With this, he reminds all three of them of the battle they can still hear coming from topside.

Arak, always a very sensitive young man (not always a great trait in one seeking to master the powers of sorcery), stammers from behind them "But...but...how was I suppose..suppose to know..." Trina quickly turns to him, sensing in his voice how close her friend is to tears, and gives him a quick hug.

"You did the best you could, dear friend" she says. "The situation was confusing, and you weren't the only one to attack him. All three of us did in the confusion. You were just the only one quick enough to hit him. Don't punish yourself for an honest mistake. We've a long path ahead of us, and obviously we all have a lot to learn still."

"I don't think the mage needs to learn anything more about that spell he hit me with" they hear from near the door, in one of the sweetest voices Trina had ever heard.

Dirk, who had came to almost immediately after passing out from the magical blow, had decided to pretend to still be knocked out to see if any of these ungrateful wretches was pla nning on attacking him again. He heard the woman calling them off ("so at least one of them knew what was going on" Dirk thought), and then he felt a pair of gentle hands lightly probing his wounds. Even as gentle as (she?) was being, it took all of Dirk' s willpower to keep from flinching from the pain. Then those hands were replaced by another set, who while not as gentle as the first, obviously wasn't there to do harm either. The rhythmic prayer ("Obviously the priest" Dirk thought) and the sudden warmt h and lack of pain in his back proved no harm was being planned. Dirk decided to wait a few more minutes to see if he could learn anything else, but quickly tired of that approach and decided on the more straightforward method. So he set up and nearly start led the poor cleric into a heart attack.