"If you don't like it, get some brush," she told the guards, "and I'll stop the sacrilege."
Blinking owlishly, they obeyed.
When they returned to kindle a fire on the floor, she had dried meat in the pot. "Here, hold this!" she directed, and taking a heavy cape from the bundle, she blanketed the patient. Next she drew the shawl about his head and shoulders. Whatever else she may have had in the bundle, Verrill did not know, for she had very deftly wadded the odds and ends into a shirt and had tucked the lot under the priest's head, for a pillow.
When Kwangtan responded to treatment and regained consciousness, he did not have any idea as to what had happened, or why people were gathered about him. But he swallowed some of the broth Falana offered him.
The guards explained, "The doctor knew you were in trouble."
Falana nodded. "He awakened suddenly and told me to follow when I had this and that gathered together. The gods talk to him. Now that you've had your fill of snooping, suppose you go on about your business!"
They went, leaving Verrill and Falana to sit up with the priest until he was out of danger.
Within the hour, Verrill could have ridden off with the Fire of Skanderbek. Instead, he made apologies to himself; he could not rob a patient, or even collect his fee before he had really earned it.
Several days passed, and word of Verrill's having heard the voice of the gods and so having gone to the shrine in time to save Kwangtan gave him an enormous boost in prestige. He had the priest at least halfway on the road to recovery when a courier brought news of another outbreak on the border. He hesitated to leave his patient, and decided to wait until the warring tribesmen made actual contact. As nearly as he could analyze the report, both sides were still scouting, skulking, maneuvering into positions suitable for the seizure of, or the defense of, the valley that Ardelan claimed as his own.