both allied and Avrosan, were readily apparent by the short mantles they wore, each with the golden radiant hand embroidered in front and back.
Upon Talaos's arrival, many people stopped and looked at him in surprise. Wind and rain howled in behind him. He closed the doors. Looking around, he saw an officer in the colors of Teroia coming his way. He recognized the man as a captain named Perio.
"Captain Perio!" Talaos hailed.
"Talaos!" answered the other, "I mean Tribune... It is very good to see you, sir!"
The captain saluted him, and he returned it.
"Captain, I have need of a physician for my men."
"Of course. Getting them to go out in that might be tricky. I'll see who I can find."
"Let's go together, and see if we can find one crazy enough to come with me."
The captain smiled.
Together they made a circuit of the place. Talaos didn't bother asking old or frail physicians, but even among the younger and more hale, there was little enthusiasm. After some time, they talked to a younger Avrosan physician with short black hair, the trim athleticism of a soldier, and an energetic manner.
"Physician," said Talaos, "I am Tribune Talaos, of the allied army."
The other nodded, "I am Demistas, five years a healer. How may I help you, Tribune?"
"I need a physician for my men, quartered at the inn called the Waverider."
"Over by the harbor? You must have ridden some waves to get here," said Demistas.
"That I did. I and my wagon," answered Talaos.
"How did you get a wagon here?"
"By clever tricks and lucky chances. It does give us a way to get you back with enough gear to set up a proper infirmary."
The other's eyes lit up, "What makes you think I want to go outside in that gale?"
"Because that way you can tell your grandchildren you did."
" Grandch..." boggled Demistas, then he laughed, "All right. Why not?"
Demistas gathered up a fairly large collection of medical supplies and tools in several bags, with help from Talaos and soldiers detailed by Perio.
As they started toward the doors, another thought occurred to Talaos.
"Demistas, what would you say if you had news the House of the Prophet had been burned during the storming of the city?"
"First, I'd question the news, given the weather, but second, if true, I'd be overjoyed."
"Then I think we'll get along well," replied Talaos.
Talaos and Demistas carried the bags of medical supplies out the front doors. Then Demistas stopped in some surprise as he pulled his hooded cloak around him.
"I see the wagon, but where are the horses?" he said, shouting over the howling wind.
"Don't worry, just follow me," said Talaos, whose voice carried over it easily.
The other boggled, but complied. Demistas had a hard time keeping his footing in the water and the gale, but did his best to help They loaded the wagon and secured everything.
Then Talaos grabbed the harness and started pulling the wagon with sure, easy steps, as if it were a child's toy on a sunny day. Demistas stared, taking in what he saw. Then, he set himself to help. He struggled, slipped and would have fallen, but Talaos grabbed his wrist and righted him. After that, with shaking head, the physician simply trudged alongside.
After a while, they reached and crossed the great plaza, now nearly knee deep in water. The House of the Prophet was there, a smoldering shell of brick.
As they neared, Talaos stopped the wagon without explanation and walked to where he'd left the iron stake. He paused for a moment, and drew on his storm, this storm, one more time. He reached into the water and picked up the twelve feet of the iron stake like a colossal staff over his arm. He circled the House of the Prophet, stalking, looking for weakness, for his opportunity.
There it was, he thought, the spot that might count. He hurled the stake with both hands, launching like some massive ballista bolt. It flew with the wind, alongside the driven rain, and went crashing into the wall. Bricks, massive heavy bricks, went hurtling
Upon Talaos's arrival, many people stopped and looked at him in surprise. Wind and rain howled in behind him. He closed the doors. Looking around, he saw an officer in the colors of Teroia coming his way. He recognized the man as a captain named Perio.
"Captain Perio!" Talaos hailed.
"Talaos!" answered the other, "I mean Tribune... It is very good to see you, sir!"
The captain saluted him, and he returned it.
"Captain, I have need of a physician for my men."
"Of course. Getting them to go out in that might be tricky. I'll see who I can find."
"Let's go together, and see if we can find one crazy enough to come with me."
The captain smiled.
Together they made a circuit of the place. Talaos didn't bother asking old or frail physicians, but even among the younger and more hale, there was little enthusiasm. After some time, they talked to a younger Avrosan physician with short black hair, the trim athleticism of a soldier, and an energetic manner.
"Physician," said Talaos, "I am Tribune Talaos, of the allied army."
The other nodded, "I am Demistas, five years a healer. How may I help you, Tribune?"
"I need a physician for my men, quartered at the inn called the Waverider."
"Over by the harbor? You must have ridden some waves to get here," said Demistas.
"That I did. I and my wagon," answered Talaos.
"How did you get a wagon here?"
"By clever tricks and lucky chances. It does give us a way to get you back with enough gear to set up a proper infirmary."
The other's eyes lit up, "What makes you think I want to go outside in that gale?"
"Because that way you can tell your grandchildren you did."
" Grandch..." boggled Demistas, then he laughed, "All right. Why not?"
Demistas gathered up a fairly large collection of medical supplies and tools in several bags, with help from Talaos and soldiers detailed by Perio.
As they started toward the doors, another thought occurred to Talaos.
"Demistas, what would you say if you had news the House of the Prophet had been burned during the storming of the city?"
"First, I'd question the news, given the weather, but second, if true, I'd be overjoyed."
"Then I think we'll get along well," replied Talaos.
Talaos and Demistas carried the bags of medical supplies out the front doors. Then Demistas stopped in some surprise as he pulled his hooded cloak around him.
"I see the wagon, but where are the horses?" he said, shouting over the howling wind.
"Don't worry, just follow me," said Talaos, whose voice carried over it easily.
The other boggled, but complied. Demistas had a hard time keeping his footing in the water and the gale, but did his best to help They loaded the wagon and secured everything.
Then Talaos grabbed the harness and started pulling the wagon with sure, easy steps, as if it were a child's toy on a sunny day. Demistas stared, taking in what he saw. Then, he set himself to help. He struggled, slipped and would have fallen, but Talaos grabbed his wrist and righted him. After that, with shaking head, the physician simply trudged alongside.
After a while, they reached and crossed the great plaza, now nearly knee deep in water. The House of the Prophet was there, a smoldering shell of brick.
As they neared, Talaos stopped the wagon without explanation and walked to where he'd left the iron stake. He paused for a moment, and drew on his storm, this storm, one more time. He reached into the water and picked up the twelve feet of the iron stake like a colossal staff over his arm. He circled the House of the Prophet, stalking, looking for weakness, for his opportunity.
There it was, he thought, the spot that might count. He hurled the stake with both hands, launching like some massive ballista bolt. It flew with the wind, alongside the driven rain, and went crashing into the wall. Bricks, massive heavy bricks, went hurtling
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