Owlsight

“That’s a good plan; I think anything subtle is a waste of time,” Eldan replied, with an approving glance around the table. “There is one thing I would like, as a ‘just in case.’ I’d like to evacuate the village - ” he consulted a paper, “ - ah, Errold’s Grove. I’d like to send the evacuees to Kelmskeep for safety.”

Lord Breon protested in alarm. “Wait now, in the middle of growing season? There’ll be things that need harvesting soon - and herds - and - ”

“Whoa!” Eldan held up his hands, cutting Lord Breon short. “I didn’t say everyone. Evacuate those who are too frightened to stay, children, women with babies, the elderly. Basically, anyone who can’t move in a hurry or will panic if trouble comes. This time we have warning, and we’ll have time enough to clear the rest out if there’s fighting and if it looks as if it will move in the direction of the village. All right?”

Lord Breon frowned, but agreed grudgingly. “I don’t think you realize how much work everyone has in growing season, though,” he grumbled. “This is going to leave my farmers and small-holders mightily short-handed.”

Darian saw Kero and Eldan exchange another look, and Eldan’s slight shrug. “I think your farmers and smallholders will be grateful that their families are somewhere safe, my lord,” Eldan soothed. “And if you are worried about the harvest, perhaps some of our fighters could pitch in to help. They won’t be doing anything here but drill, and some of them might appreciate the change of pace.”

Darian thought of something that might be an incentive. “There must be twenty pretty girls in that village with no husband-prospects, and there’s a perfectly good inn there as well.”

Kero grinned and winked at him.

“There, you see?” Eldan spread his hands. “We’ll take our volunteers from those who grew up farming. At that rate, you can even have the mothers with young children as well as those with babies evacuate. In the event that the whole village needs to be cleared out, we’ll have a rearguard in place to hold the road behind!”

Lord Breon sighed heavily. “All right. It’s a damned good idea, and I’ve no doubt m’lady can keep the whole lot of ‘em busy helping with wedding froufraraw.”

“Kelvren, can you fly a long sortie tomorrow?” Kero asked, as if struck with a sudden thought. “I’d like you to see if there’s any pattern to the barbarians’ migration.”

Kelvren slapped his foreclaw to his chest in what Darian thought must be a salute. “Cerrrtainly.”

“Right.” She looked around the table. “Can anybody think of anything else for now?”

“Only that we should make this meeting a daily one,” Snowfire said, and smiled apologetically at Lord Breon. “Sorry, my lord, but unless you prefer to let us deal with this without your opinions or wishes, your lady will have to do without you for a while.”

“My lady told me to pack my bags,” Lord Breon replied and grinned. “She reckoned Val and I were in for an extended stay. Gods forbid that fighting comes that far, but she can command my personal troops as well as I can, and as for setting up for refugees and a siege - she’s as good or better than I am. That’s one reason why I wed her in the first place.” Val looked startled, as his father bowed to Starfall and Snowfire. “ ‘Fraid I’m going to have to beg quarters from you, gentlemen, and camp-space for my men.”

Keisha felt as if she had somehow fallen into someone else’s life. Here she had gone along for years, with nothing more serious than sick sheep and broken bones to take care of, and nothing more worrisome than trying to work her way through those damned indecipherable texts. . . .

And now?

She was living in a Hawkbrother Vale, taking lessons from one of the most famous mages in the world - well, in Valdemar, anyway - learning how to do things that weren’t even in those texts. And if that wasn’t enough, now there was an army in residence, with no less than three full Healers and six apprentices, all perfectly willing to give her extra lessons and advice if she thought she needed it. She had seen more new people at once in the last few days than all of the people she’d ever seen in her life added together.

“Not that you really need much advice,” observed Gentian Arbelo, the most senior of the three. He was also the oldest, bald as an egg, and the thinnest healthy man Keisha had ever seen. “You have all the basic herb- knowledge so solidly there’s no point in questioning it, and you could teach us a few things about the local cures. As for using your Gift - ” he shrugged. “It’s more a matter of practice and getting comfortable with it than needing any advice or lessons. Still, if you want to sit in when any of us work, we’ll be happy to link minds with you so that you can see exactly how we do things.”

“Please,” Keisha responded immediately, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “Please. I need experience, and I’m horribly afraid I won’t have much time to get it.”

“There is that,” agreed Nala Karcinamen, the junior Healer. “If there’s fighting, well, we’re going to wish we had double our number.”

The middle, a robust and cheerful man, of middling height, brown hair, eyes, and beard, who called himself Grenthan Miles, made a face. “Piff! This is Captain Kero we’re talking about! If there’s a way to get this settled