“I’d wondered,” Snowfire growled, not at all happy with the way his opinions had been subverted.
“I didn’t see a choice,” she told him flatly, with what Wintersky called her “take no prisoners” expression. “My only other course of action was to keep him sedated, and that would be very bad for him. This way, he has a chance to absorb the situation without thinking about it for a few days, then try and come to terms with it - gradually, instead of all at once. And by then, you all should know more about what’s going on; you’ll be able to tell him where his people are and what Valdemar is going to do about the attack. He’ll be able to make some choices for himself with a reasonable amount of information, and we’ll see how he’s fitting in and what we’re going to do with him.”
Snowfire knew he was going to have to accept whatever she told him she’d done - not only because it was already an accomplished fact, but because he was not a Healer and an Empath, and his opinions really didn’t matter. However, having Nightwind make the decision was a bit more palatable than Tyrsell; Nightwind might primarily treat non-humans, but she herself was human, and her reasoning came out of her human experience.
“All right,” he said with resignation. “I can see why you decided the way you did, and this is better than keeping him drugged. And I know why you didn’t ask me first, because I would have argued with you.”
“And last night, I was in no mood to argue with you; my intentions were in the other direction entirely.” She grinned at him and fluttered her eyelashes coyly in a way that drew an unwilling laugh out of him. “As for the headache potion, that was all it was. Now, if you need to question him more about the attack - “
Snowfire interrupted her with a shake of his head. “I don’t think so. What we’ll need are descriptions of the village, where things are, at least for now. Kel and Hweel and I are going to do a little scouting there tonight, just to see who and what’s still there.”
She nodded. “Then there should be no problem; his memories of the village before the attack are going to be perfectly clear, just don’t be surprised if he blanks out in describing the things he thinks are damaged. He’ll probably completely forget the fact that the bridge was burned, for instance.” She licked her lips and twisted a strand of hair around her index finger as she paused for a thought. “In fact, he’s very likely to act and talk as if the whole town is still intact, so don’t correct him.”
“I won’t. You say in his deeper thoughts he’s still going to be aware of what happened, though?” At her nod, he sighed, and gazed out over the pool for a moment, collecting his thoughts. If he’s got it in his deeper memories, those are what usually come out in dreams. “Well, we could be looking at some interrupted nights, if he starts having nightmares.”
“If he does, we’ll move him into the Bower, and I’ll deal with it. He’ll very likely have them, and in some ways that would be good; if he does, they will mean he’s absorbing and coming to terms with the experience on the deeper level.” She didn’t seem at all adverse to having the boy in the “Bower,” the half-cave in the rocky cliff where she had built isolated facilities for those who were sick or injured. Well, if she didn’t mind having her sleep disturbed, Snowfire was not going to try to argue her out of it.
So he shrugged. “Once again - you are the expert; I am not. And much as I enjoy your company, I have a scout’s meeting to gather - “
“So go gather it.” She paused, resting a hand against the side of his face and making him look deeply into her eyes so he could not miss her sincerity and her regret. “Kechara, if I didn’t have to balance a potentially dangerous, even explosive situation against this boy’s needs, I wouldn’t have made the decisions I have. But if I didn’t also have his welfare in mind, I would have told you to pack him up and send him off with Wintersky and a couple of dyheli to the nearest large settlement. I think that for now at least, he will be better treated among us. Now, I must be off, too, so go find your scouts.”
They parted, with Snowfire feeling a little better about Darian’s welfare than he had been. When it came right down to it, the boy could not be in better hands.
It’s been a long day, Snowfire thought, as he laced up his climbing boots by the light of the fire. And it’s going to be a long night.
Darian was safely asleep, and so, most probably, were the current inhabitants of Errold’s Grove. It was time for that little scouting run.
Little? Not so little. I’ve never run a sortie against an army before. But it’s not as if I don’t have the experience to carry it off. Snowfire had been an active scout since he was a mere fourteen winters old, although he hadn’t been permitted in the field against human intruders for the first four years. So how much different can they be, I wonder, than a large bandit gang?
Across the fire from him, Nightwind was getting Kelvren ready. Kelvren’s eyes pinned with excitement, the pupils contracting to a mere nothing, then widening until there was nothing showing but pupil, then contracting again. In the firelight, the effect was particularly striking; his eyes looked as if they were flashing with a gilded light as his golden irises appeared and disappeared. Nightwind calmly tightened his harness at all points, checking his gear, making certain that the amplifying metal lacework-headband of the teleson set was properly in place under the feathers on his head, and that it wasn’t going to distract him in any way. Kelvren’s Mindspeech wasn’t particularly strong, and this little bit of metal filigree that looked so much like one of his favorite ornaments would help him reach Snowfire without effort.
Snowfire was already outfitted for a nighttime sortie; his costume of soft blacks and grays was much like his daylight scouting gear except for color - or rather, lack of it. He had streaked his face with random stripes of black-and-gray paint, and before he braided it, he had dusted his hair with a charcoal-colored powder that would cling until washed out. He wore black gloves and soft, black boots made for climbing; his climbing staff was in its sheath on his back and his throwing-darts in a bandoleer across his chest. There was a knife at his belt and another in each boot, thin and incredibly strong rope with a grappling hook coiled in one pouch at his side, a strangling-wire in another, and a darker version of his leather arm-guard strapped in place over his clothing for Hweel to land on in case he needed to. He probably wouldn’t; Snowfire intended to be up in the tree-tops, and there should be plenty of places for Hweel to land without choosing his arm.
A small herd of three dyheli waiting patiently at his elbow would carry him as far as the clearing where he’d discovered Darian, or farther if it seemed safe; that way he would leave no footprints. A herd of animals would leave tracks that were much less suspicious than a single animal. The plan called for the dyheli to wait for him at the clearing until he returned. Kel, of course, would fly, leaving no tracks at all.