He drew a deep breath, and started talking. First, with the good news that Rafe was doing well.
Then he reported on the sick and the dying and those that were recovering. I puttered a bit, tokeep my hands busy, arranging the contents of the tables, just listening to his voice get slowerand softer. It didn't take long. By the time Prest returned, Gils was fast asleep on my pallet,oblivious to the world around him.
Marcus entered with Prest, carrying food. He glanced at Gils and nodded as he set the kavagedown. "Good for him, to get some rest." Prest took his food outside, but Marcus handed me amug of kavage, and a bowl of soup, and pointed to the stump. I sat, and started to eat, lookingat Gils sleeping so soundly. He looked even younger, his tousled red curls falling about hisface. My gaze wandered about the tent, coming to rest on the large basket under one of thetables.
Meara's basket.
The soup in my mouth turned to ashes, and I choked it down as I remembered. How could Ihave forgotten?
Marcus followed my gaze, and sighed when he saw the basket. He reached under the table andpulled it out. "I should have said. She is fine, Warprize."
"You were just as exhausted, Marcus."
He grunted, pulling the blankets from the basket. "Eat something, then we will go and check onher." His tone was gruff, but I noticed that he smiled gently as he folded and smoothed thesmall blankets as he removed them from the basket. A few pieces of dried lavender fell to theground, and I gathered the dried flowers up, and held them to my nose. The scent was sweet,and I put them aside. We could use them to freshen the clean swaddles.
A noise made both Marcus and I look at the entrance. Prest was standing just inside the tent,his face grim.
"Prest?"
"You must come, Warprize."
"Who's—"
"The Warlord."
Chapter 9
"Keir?"
My heart in my throat, I entered our sleeping area, blinking to adjust to the cool darknesswithin. Marcus had followed me, and he paused behind me as well, trying to catch his breath.
Keir was seated on the bed, head hanging down, bracing himself with his hands on his knees.
I jerked to a stop, my stomach clenching. Keir looked up, and gave me a weak smile, a finesheen of sweat on his forehead and cheeks. I forced myself to slow my breathing, and calmlymoved to sit next to him on the bed. My nose picked up the familiar stink and I placed my handon Keir's forehead. "How long?"
"Not long." Keir answered.
"You think." Marcus knelt and started to unlace Keir's boot. He pulled off the boot with a jerk,letting Keir's foot fall to the floor. "You've been working yourself ragged for days. Who's tosay how long?"
Prest spoke from behind us. "I'll wake Gils."
"Iften must be told as well." Keir's voice was rough. I looked at him in horror, but he frownedat me. "With Simus gone, he is Second. He will have command."
With a nod, Prest left the tent.
"Should have killed him when he challenged." Marcus grumbled, working at the other boot.
"Who's to say that would have been best?" Keir sighed and closed his eyes. I moved closerand placed my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me. "Lara, I heard. About the babe." Hiseyes crinkled slightly in the corners. "So now you raise the dead?"
I shook my head, choking on my tears. How could he jest when—
Keir continued, clearing his throat, trying to strengthen his voice. "We must discuss whathappens in the event that—"
"Nothing is going to happen to you." I snapped, cutting him off. "If Meara can live throughthis, you can."
Keir chuckled at that, but I wasn't laughing. My fingers trembled as I unbuckled his armor.
'The best of warlords plan for all possibilities." He paused for a moment, gathering strength. "Iwill plan for the worst, yes? Then it will not happen."
