‘Under guard.’ The boatswain’s voice sounded like two boulders grinding against each other and made the hairs on the back of Einar’s neck stand on end. Now Einar understood why the man had remained silent or merely nodded most of the time. ‘Cipris. All night. Change. Fuilin. Not here. They’re looking for him.’ Although his speech was halting and disjointed, Toinen was genuinely grateful that it was brief.
‘And the other two?’ Hex seemed irritated, to say the least.
‘Gone.’ The pale-faced man spread his hands, having no answer.
‘What did Cipris say?’ the officer pressed.
‘Guard. Shift. Sleep.’ The boatswain spread his hands again. ‘Everything’s fine.’
‘In that case, we need to get them back in shape,’ said Einar. The men looked at him, but it was hard to tell what they were thinking. ‘Could we get them back into a somewhat useful condition?’ he asked more loudly, glancing at the druid, who had in the meantime taken a few steps away.
‘It could be done,’ the healer mused, stroking his beard. ‘But it’ll take a bit of time. They need a pain-relieving infusion and their fractures need dressing.’ He shook his head, assessing the legionaries’ condition. ‘They’ll be out of action until this evening. Perhaps after dark they’ll be able to speak coherently.’ The druid turned on his heel and set off towards the settlement. ‘Carry them to my hut,’ he called over his shoulder.
No one reacted, so Einar leaned in slightly towards the officers and spoke quietly.
‘We’d better send someone to take those two to the druid.’ He glanced back at the healer, before whom the Ytrens were parting. ‘Berren isn’t as patient as the other druids.’
‘I'm not sure that’s a good idea.’ The sergeant watched the druid walk away.
‘I doubt your medic is any better than the druid.’ Einar tried to sound confident. ‘Unless you’ve got a healer with you.’
The officers exchanged glances first, then looked at Tahon. Although they didn’t say a word, it seemed they had reached some sort of agreement. To Toinen, it reminded him of the unspoken
