“I’ve set out a bit of sausage and dried fruit in case your lordship did not have a chance to eat before you left Lord Reese’s fortress.” Without a word, Kerr helped Pollard out of his cloak, not needing to be told to be gentle with Pollard’s wounded left arm.
Under any circumstances, Kerr would have been frighteningly efficient. But without ever acknowledging what he knew or letting on to how he came by the knowledge, Kerr understood that visits to Reese took a toll on Pollard. Kerr made it a point to have food ready, a hot pot of
fet
waiting, and a box of bandages and ointment discreetly set out on Pollard’s cot. Pollard suspected that his valet had discerned the nature of Pollard’s fealty to Reese one of the times Kerr had bandaged him after a battle and could not help but have seen the scars of old puncture marks on Pollard’s skin.
“Thank you, Kerr.”
Kerr handed Pollard a cup of the steaming, strong mixture, and Pollard let the vapors rouse him for a moment before he lifted the cup to his lips. “Per your instructions, m’lord, I’ve notified your commanders to meet with you at tenth bells. Is there anything else you require?”
“That will be all,” Pollard said, his voice flat, a mixture of distraction and exhaustion. Meeting with Reese always had that effect on him, just another reminder of who really held the power. Pollard downed the rest of his cup of
fet
as Kerr left the tent, then poured a second cup to steady his nerves before sitting down on his cot beside the box of bandages.
He set his cup aside, eased himself gingerly out of his uniform jacket, and rolled up his sleeve. Although the skin was already healed, the middle of his arm, from a handsbreadth above his elbow to the same distance below the joint, was swollen and purpled. He winced as his fingers brushed the wound, and the arm hurt when bent. Pollard dug in the box for some of the powders the healer had supplied to dull the pain without dulling his wits, and he added an ample dosage to his already-bitter
fet
.
Pollard had just finished the food Kerr had set out for him and drained the last of the pot of
fet
when the others arrived. Each man paused in the door of the tent to make a shallow bow before entering, then took his place at the small portable table.
“Reconnaissance report,” Pollard snapped.
Captain Anton, a dark-haired man in his early thirties, looked up as if he had been expecting the command. “We’ve increased the watch on all roads leading from Glenreith toward Castle Reach and the eastern cities,” Anton reported.
“Why not on all roads, Captain?”
Anton grimaced. “There’s nothing to the west of Glenreith except farmland, least not for quite a ways out. We’ve only got so many men, m’lord. They’re stretched thin as it is.”
“How did McFadden get past your men to reach Mirdalur?” Pollard demanded.
Chagrin flashed across Anton, and then resignation. “They disguised themselves as tinkers, m’lord. We’d not blockaded the roads, merely kept a watch for McFadden. Now that we know he’s willing to move in disguise, we’ll watch more closely.”
He paused. “Your orders had been to patrol but not raise suspicions,” he added, a touch of defensiveness coloring his tone. “Stopping and searching all travelers is bound to raise questions, as well as protest.”
Pollard swore under his breath. “Lord Reese doesn’t want to tip his hand as to the strength of his forces – at least, not yet,” he replied. “Some discretion is necessary, I agree.” His tone hardened. “Yet I am quite certain Lord Reese would prefer to smooth over the ruffled feathers of a few villagers or motley caravans in order to apprehend McFadden and his companions.”
“Noted, sir.”
“Berit,” Pollard said, turning his attention to the next officer at the table.
“Sir.”
“I’d like to know exactly how McFadden and a handful of men managed to outfight your soldiers and get free.”
Berit was
Under any circumstances, Kerr would have been frighteningly efficient. But without ever acknowledging what he knew or letting on to how he came by the knowledge, Kerr understood that visits to Reese took a toll on Pollard. Kerr made it a point to have food ready, a hot pot of
fet
waiting, and a box of bandages and ointment discreetly set out on Pollard’s cot. Pollard suspected that his valet had discerned the nature of Pollard’s fealty to Reese one of the times Kerr had bandaged him after a battle and could not help but have seen the scars of old puncture marks on Pollard’s skin.
“Thank you, Kerr.”
Kerr handed Pollard a cup of the steaming, strong mixture, and Pollard let the vapors rouse him for a moment before he lifted the cup to his lips. “Per your instructions, m’lord, I’ve notified your commanders to meet with you at tenth bells. Is there anything else you require?”
“That will be all,” Pollard said, his voice flat, a mixture of distraction and exhaustion. Meeting with Reese always had that effect on him, just another reminder of who really held the power. Pollard downed the rest of his cup of
fet
as Kerr left the tent, then poured a second cup to steady his nerves before sitting down on his cot beside the box of bandages.
He set his cup aside, eased himself gingerly out of his uniform jacket, and rolled up his sleeve. Although the skin was already healed, the middle of his arm, from a handsbreadth above his elbow to the same distance below the joint, was swollen and purpled. He winced as his fingers brushed the wound, and the arm hurt when bent. Pollard dug in the box for some of the powders the healer had supplied to dull the pain without dulling his wits, and he added an ample dosage to his already-bitter
fet
.
Pollard had just finished the food Kerr had set out for him and drained the last of the pot of
fet
when the others arrived. Each man paused in the door of the tent to make a shallow bow before entering, then took his place at the small portable table.
“Reconnaissance report,” Pollard snapped.
Captain Anton, a dark-haired man in his early thirties, looked up as if he had been expecting the command. “We’ve increased the watch on all roads leading from Glenreith toward Castle Reach and the eastern cities,” Anton reported.
“Why not on all roads, Captain?”
Anton grimaced. “There’s nothing to the west of Glenreith except farmland, least not for quite a ways out. We’ve only got so many men, m’lord. They’re stretched thin as it is.”
“How did McFadden get past your men to reach Mirdalur?” Pollard demanded.
Chagrin flashed across Anton, and then resignation. “They disguised themselves as tinkers, m’lord. We’d not blockaded the roads, merely kept a watch for McFadden. Now that we know he’s willing to move in disguise, we’ll watch more closely.”
He paused. “Your orders had been to patrol but not raise suspicions,” he added, a touch of defensiveness coloring his tone. “Stopping and searching all travelers is bound to raise questions, as well as protest.”
Pollard swore under his breath. “Lord Reese doesn’t want to tip his hand as to the strength of his forces – at least, not yet,” he replied. “Some discretion is necessary, I agree.” His tone hardened. “Yet I am quite certain Lord Reese would prefer to smooth over the ruffled feathers of a few villagers or motley caravans in order to apprehend McFadden and his companions.”
“Noted, sir.”
“Berit,” Pollard said, turning his attention to the next officer at the table.
“Sir.”
“I’d like to know exactly how McFadden and a handful of men managed to outfight your soldiers and get free.”
Berit was
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