So, the afternoon wore on. By mid-day, his warriors were positioned, his strategy for the next few days set.
Verice was then free to talk with the people of Birch Cove and listen to their desire to rebuild. Which might indeed be best in the short run, but in the long view the value of that path was doubtful. Their trade with Farentell was gone, and who knew how long it would be before the trade routes with Summerford would be restored. The wiser course could be to rebuild in a new location, farther away from the border, closer to the river that would widen their markets and access to trade routes.
But he could see in their stubborn round faces a determination to argue, and he mentally sighed in frustration. After talking and asking them to consider well the decision, he sent them off for a mid-day meal and gave the constable his orders. Only then did he seek a few quiet moments with his own bowl of soup and bread, alone in his chambers.
It wasn’t fair to toy with Warna’s heart and life. As short lived as humans were, she deserved more than that. The honorable action would be to pull back gently, so as not to hurt her. Remembering the look in her eyes, the taste of her mouth, a pang of regret arced through his chest, but Verice shook his head at his own stupidity.
Unfair to her, heartbreak for him. It had to be done.
He returned to his tasks, after reassurance from the constable that his message had been delivered. The men of Birch Cove gathered once again and Verice was surprised to find that they seemed more open to the idea of resettling. The maps returned, but this time with a sense of hope in the future.
Then the scouts reported with fresh news and more information and once again his chambers rang with the going and comings of his warriors, all bearing reports. He listened carefully to their words, watching their hands on the maps, pointing out where and what they’d seen.
“So, no massing of troops. A probe perhaps, but one with no real force behind it.”
Nods all around.
He stood, satisfied. “Then we’ve done what we can for now, to see the border secure. Seek your beds, all of you, with my thanks.”
They filed out, and he stretched his back, tired. It had gone well enough, given Narthing’s absence. He missed having the man at his side. There’d been no word all day as to his injuries, but Verice was inclined to think that no news was good news. But he’d see the man himself before he sought his bed.
Which brought him up short. He’d have to talk to Warna tonight as well. He couldn’t let that issue linger any longer. It would be painful enough as it was.
The night sky was clear as he stepped out into the courtyard; it was later than he’d thought. A few steps brought him to the door of the Healers Hall; a quick question told him where Narthing was to be found. But first he went among the wounded, going from bed to bed, taking the time to ask after them and listen to their responses.
Finally, he came to Narthing’s door, and after a light tap, he entered the room. “How goes it, my friend?”
Narthing’s pale face lit in a smile.
Warna was sitting at his bedside.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Narthing,” Verice moved into the room, conscious of Warna’s gaze. He took a chair from the far wall and moved it to the bedside. The sharp scents of medicines and mixtures tickled his nose. “How do you fare?”
“Well enough.” Narthing’s voice was breathy and thin.
“Pain?” Verice frowned.
“Some,” Narthing said slowly. “When I take too deep a breath. As long as I move slowly, and don’t laugh, it’s tolerable.”
“They haven’t dosed you?” Verice asked.
Narthing shook his head, but Warna answered. “He wouldn’t take it,” she said quietly. “He put them off, told them he wanted to talk to you.”
“Wanted to know,” Narthing put his hand over his wound, as if to brace it. “You’ve reports, Lord?”
“Ah,” Verice nodded his understanding. “Then lay there and listen, Captain.”
Verice summarized what he knew briefly, but with enough detail that Narthing seemed satisfied.
“So, if it was a probe, it wasn’t a serious effort,” Narthing breathed out. “That’s good. Better than I’d hoped.” He let his head sink into the pillow, staring at the ceiling for a moment.
Verice waited, watching his face, letting Narthing mull over the information. “But what of Birch Cove?” Narthing finally asked, his eyes narrowing.
“The town’s a loss,” Verice said. “I’m sending warriors with the menfolk to see what can be retrieved of personal belongings, and to round up what they can of the livestock.”
Narthing gave the slightest shake of his head. “That river ford—” he said and then winced.
