Dark Thane

Seeing the king's frustration, Jungor climbed to the step just below Tarn's. Still smiling innocently, he said, "Perhaps you should return home as well, my king. There is nothing more for you to do here."

Tarn clenched his fists, his beard quivering, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Crystal warning him-strike him and you give him the excuse he wants to act more boldly. Slowly, Tarn relaxed, and with a last baleful glare at the Hylar thane, he began to descend the steps, his thoughts already returning to his son. But a question niggled in his mind, like a worm on a hook. Why had Jungor been stockpiling supplies? What sort of disaster was he preparing for? Food, medicine, water, bandages, bedding-these were all things needed by refugees.

Or an army.

27

Ghash met Tarn at the bottom of the stair, his face grim. "Where to, m'lord?" he asked.

"Home," Tarn answered shortly. Though most of the crowd had already left, a few remained behind in the temple courtyard, gathered in small groups talking about what had happened. Most fell silent as Tarn and his captain passed, and not a few shot disdainful glances their way. Ghash made a point of haughtily ignoring them, even when one group burst into laughter behind their backs. For once, Tarn wished his Klar captain would forget his manners and crack a few heads.

Having left the plaza surrounding the Council Hall, they turned north. Here, near one of the major transportation shafts that connected the various levels of the city, they found the houses of healing for the second level of Norbardin. Not far away stood Jungor's warehouses, and from the intersection of two streets, Tarn could see the crowd that had already gathered to receive the distribution of goods. Though obviously not in dire need as a result of the groundquake, the dwarves were not about to pass up free blankets and food. Tarn could not help but think that Jungor was buying the favor of the populace.

But this did not concern Tarn so much at the moment. What more readily attracted his attention was the large number of people waiting in the street outside the houses of healing. Most bore only minor bruises and scrapes, and he saw no one with truly serious injuries. But there were far too many of them, and Tarn noted that most were Daergar or Klar. Fifty or more stood on the curb outside the door and the line stretched around the far corner.

Tarn turned aside and entered, Ghash hurrying in his wake. They found the lobby more crowded than the street, with dozens of dwarves angrily demanding attention for their wounds from the undermanned staff. Tarn glanced around until he spotted a young female Hylar wearing the white robe and brown belt of a healer's apprentice. She was hurrying toward him with a tray of bandages balanced on one hand while she fended off the grasping hands of the patients who swarmed around her. Tarn pushed through until he reached her side, then took the tray from her hand and passed it to Ghash. "Distribute these," he ordered. The Klar captain stared at him in confusion for a moment before lowering the tray to within the reach of those clamoring around him.

"Wait just a moment. Those are for the doctor!" the apprentice healer shouted angrily. Tarn turned back to her, and it was only then that she realized who he was, so frazzled were her nerves. "Pardon my impertinence, thane. I did not see you enter. Are you injured?" She performed a quick curtsy.

"Not at all. Tell me, what has happened here? Why are there so many injured citizens on this level?" Tarn asked.

The girl pushed her hand through the mop of dirty brown hair hanging in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, her hair dank with sweat. "Oh, my king," she sighed. "The houses of healing on the first level have been flooded. We're getting patients from both levels now, and there aren't enough of us to handle them all."

"Where are all your healers, then?" Tarn asked, well aware of the precise number of staff assigned to each of the healing houses. "There should be more than enough healers here to handle this. And I was told that there aren't any serious injuries to speak of."

"That's true, my lord, or would be. There are only two doctors here. The rest of the staff is made up of apprentices and novices. Most of our doctors were ordered to the third level to deal with Hylar wounded," she said in annoyance. "That was before the first level houses of healing became flooded. Now we can't recall them."

"Ordered? Who ordered this?" Tarn asked, though he thought he already knew the answer.

"Thane Stonesinger," the girl said, confirming his suspicions. "Forgive me, my lord. The doctor is waiting for me." Curtsying again, she hurried away.

"Send the head doctor to me, when he has a moment!" Tarn shouted after her, and she waved to show that she had heard before vanishing through a doorway.