A ruckus. "Yeah, that's one word for it," Kit answers wryly, but doesn't supply anymore details than that; either Anders has already heard the details about some Lowtown dwarf and a weird, brightly dressed elf subduing an ash wraith in the streets, or he hasn't, and regardless of which one it is, Kit prefers not to devote too much time to thinking about it.

"Where are these salves and potions headed?" he asks instead, sounding keen on making himself useful in some way. His arm injury will keep a little longer; it's not too severe.