“That would be fine … if the Heldyans haven’t attacked elsewhere. We still need to take care of you. I need to see how they’re coming.” Keeping an eye on Rhamuel, Lerial goes to the door and tells the two Afritan Guards, “You can come back.”
While waiting for Norstaan to return with what he needs, Lerial steps out into the courtyard. Nothing has changed, and palace guards and rankers are still looking through the rubble. Bodies covered with blankets lie in a line on the stone pavement in front of the east entrance to the palace. Lerial walks to his mount and grabs the water bottle, from which he takes slow swallows, hoping that the watered lager will help his light-headedness and the flashes that have returned to plague his vision.
Norstaan hurries from the southwest corner of the courtyard toward Lerial. “We should have everything in a few moments, ser.”
“Good. You never told me what happened.”
“I don’t know, ser. Not really. I heard that the duke wanted the arms-commander and had sent a messenger. When he entered the courtyard, I came out to see him, but he barely stopped, just long enough to tell me that we’d talk after he met with the duke. He left his mount with one of the rankers and hurried to the east entrance. I went back to looking at the duty rosters. A little later, there was an explosion, and everything shook. I ran out. The palace was pretty near like it is now, but some stone blocks were still falling.”
Lerial nods. “I’ve talked to the arms-commander. Have some men look through the undamaged part of the palace to see if they can find out about the duke and his family—”
“Ser … we already did. The arms-commander ordered it. They’re not anywhere in the safe parts of the palace. Neither is Councilor Dafaal. Lady Haesychya and her daughter are likely safe. They left early because her father is ailing. They should be at Aenslem’s villa. We couldn’t find any trace of Lord Natroyor. Lord Mykel departed for Lake Reomer early this morning with his … friend.”
Lerial finds himself letting out a deep breath at the news about Haesychya and Kyedra. After a moment, he says, “You need to send a messenger to Aenslem’s villa, if you haven’t already. It’s cold, but the lady needs to know that the duke is dead, and that the heir is missing in the rubble. Tell them to stay there because the city is facing Heldyan attack.”
“Yes, ser.”
“Draft an order to Commander Nythalt, or the senior officer in command at Harbor Post. Order him to set up a line of defense to assure that the Heldyan forces to the north of Swartheld do not take the city. Tell him he’ll need to consider earthworks because the Heldyans have chaos-wizards. We’ll have the arms-commander sign it, and you’ll take it to the Harbor Post.”
“But … what will I tell them?”
“That an explosion blew up part of the palace. That the duke is buried in the rubble and likely dead. That the arms-commander was injured and has a broken leg, but as arms-commander and possible heir, his commands stand. We’ll also need to send orders to Commander Sammyl at South Post. He needs to report here to assist the arms-commander, and Subcommander Drusyn needs to take whatever steps are necessary, if he hasn’t already, to repulse any Heldyan troops that may attack from the south.” At Norstaan’s questioning look, Lerial adds, “I’m certain they have standing orders to that effect,” at least they should, “but with the explosions and rumors that are going to circulate, a set of written orders, confirmed by a live officer or squad leader who can confirm that the arms-commander, although wounded, is alive and alert, will help settle officers and men.”
“Yes, ser.”
Lerial can see several troopers and a man in green headed toward them. “I didn’t know there was a palace healer. Is he the one you mentioned?”
“Yes, ser. He can’t do order-healing, but he’s good with other kinds of healing, cleaning and stitching wounds, setting bones…”
“Good.”
As the healer approaches, Lerial sees that he is a trim square-faced man with graying brown hair. The healer also manifests a strong order-presence, if not as much as a true order-healer.
“Jaermyd, ser.”
“It’s good you’re here. I’d like your help … or perhaps it might be better to say that I’ll help you in setting the arms-commander’s broken leg.”
“Is that all…”
Lerial shakes his head. “He’s got welts everywhere. Much of his body will be bruised, but some of the bruises are so deep that they won’t show up for a day or so…”
“I heard you were a field healer, but that…”
“I can do some order-healing. Not so much as the best…” Lerial pauses. “His lower back is damaged. He doesn’t have any feeling there. There’s a knot of wound chaos there … but we still need to set and splint the leg so it will heal.”
Jaermyd nods. “Maybe ought to brace his back first. Otherwise…”
“We might damage it more?”
“He might. Even the best bonesetting’s painful.”
You should have remembered that. “You’re right.”