“There’s jewelry in the vaults,” Verice said. “If it is your wish, it can be returned to the vaults after the festivities.” He rolled his eyes at her. “And a few dresses will not beggar me or the barony, m’lady.”
Warna laughed, then shrugged. “Very well, m’lord.”
Verice raised an eyebrow. “That blue cloth was fetching,” he coaxed. “I could go back—”
“Velvet?” Warna snorted. “At that price? Think again, m’lord.”
“I defer to your wisdom in the matter,” Verice said, pleased when Warna laughed again.
But she also gave him a piercing look.
“I’m still not taking anything with me when I leave, Verice.”
“A topic for another time,” Verice said as pain rose in his chest. This was not a conversation he wished to have in the streets. Seeking to change the subject, he rose in his stirrups, then settled back down in his saddle. “It would appear that the furniture makers’ lane is ahead. Perhaps we could pick up the pace after this corner?” Verice raised an eyebrow at Warna. “Before they start coming out carrying chairs and tables?”
Narthing was pleasedto find that the stairs to Warna’s office didn’t wind him. At this rate of healing, he might even be able to dance at the Festival.
Constable Ricard had accompanied him, keeping a weather eye, but even he gave a nod of satisfaction as they approached the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Ricard paused outside the door. “I’m off to drill some of the young’uns.”
“You’re just avoiding the desk work,” Narthing said.
“Leaving such things to you and the Lady Warna,” Ricard said innocently. “Fine, capable hands.”
Narthing muttered something rude under his breath as Ricard strode off. Then he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked.
“Enter,” Warna called.
As he’d expected, the room was filled with a chaos of people and paper. The people were pulling chairs close; the papers were spread over every surface of the room, fighting with the vases of flowers for space.
Warna laughed. “Just move these out of the way,” she said, placing a vase on the floor.
Ersal was there, along with two of his assistants. Warna had recruited Farnor, the quartermaster and his clerk. Janella had four people with her, because of the demands on the housekeeping staff. Dominic’s replacement, Priest Dorne was already seated at the side of Warna’s desk. Even Lord Mayor Pernard had come.
Lady Warna took the chair behind her desk, and seemed in complete command. “Narthing,” her face lit up. “We’ve three days left to get this chaos under control.”
“Might as well try to organize mayflies,” Janella sighed. “For all the good it will do.”
“No plan survives the first encounter with the enemy.” Narthing smiled as he took a seat.
“But we need review our plans, none the less,” Warna said firmly. “So, let’s start with the First Night.”
Narthing caught his breath as a sudden stillness filled the room. His own pain caught him off guard, with a sudden swift clutching of his heart. The faces around him all reflected the same. They’d all known it was coming, known that it had to be done. Now it was here, and no easier.
Warna looked stricken by her own words. For a moment, he thought she might start crying, but she took a deep breath and continued. “Priest Dorne and I have talked. We’d like to share our thoughts on how we should proceed.” She dropped her eyes to the scroll that was set out before her. “I want you all to aid us in this; to honor the dead, and re-open the Great Hall. So, if you have anything to offer, please do so.”
Narthing moved to the chair she gestured him to, glad of a chance to cover his emotions with movement. The others organized themselves around Warna’s desk.
“We’ll start with a call to prayer,” Priest Dorne started. “And then—”
Narthing concentrated, not wanting to miss a word.
Surprisingly, with Dorne’s calm demeanor, they managed to review the plan for the entire First Night fairly quickly. Everyone had contributed, and the final plan met with general approval.
Warna handed off the last scroll to one of the assistants for copying, and heaved a huge sigh. Her brown eyes were warm as she surveyed them all. “I think the hardest part is behind us. Let’s get some hot kav, and then continue.”
The others relaxed as well, and the tension in the room eased.
What a Baroness she’d make, Narthing thought as he took a mug of kav from a servant. She’d the deportment and skills, that was certain. With this Festival, she’d have restored the castle to working order, and restored Lord Verice as well.
