“Sire?”

“You may take your charge back to her tent.”

As Florin opened the flap of her tent for her, he gave her shoulders a squeeze. “You have done well, miss. That is no gratuitous position he’s given you, and that’s a fact.”

Éhal smiled gratefully at the old healer. “He is much like my father,” she said. “He is wise and kind, and mindful of others’ needs. I hope I can be of service to him.”

“You have already been of great service to him, miss,” said Florin. “More than you realize.”

“How so?” she asked.

“Baldric is now considering the unthinkable,” said Florin. “He is considering defeating the vanguard of Morlock’s army.”

Éhal gaped involuntarily. “But how? Why?”

“Why?” said Florin, “because he must. How? Well, that remains to be seen. Good day, miss.”

“But how?” persisted Éhal.

“I do not know,” said Florin. “Now get some rest before I call a nurse to come sit on ye.”

“How shall I rest... ?” she protested.

“No more, child,” said Florin. “Go.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “But Florin?”

“Yes, miss?”

“Please don’t call me a child,” she said.

“You are naught but eighteen years,” said Florin.

“So?” said Éhal.




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