Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [113]
In the distant sky, a black spot took on colors, and as it came closer, Tipper recognized her former guardian. Sir Beccaroon had been ordered back to his forest to coordinate efforts in supplying the army with food from his district. Verrin Schope had provided grains and vegetable seeds that grew unnaturally fast.
The colorful parrot landed beside Tipper. “Still chafing that you aren’t at the edge of the battle?”
“I was of use there.”
“You’re of use here. There’s another ambulance wagon coming. You’ll need six more beds.”
“I’ll tell Lipphil.” Tipper turned to enter the stairway to the floors below.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I have a message from your father.”
Tipper hurried back to the grand parrot’s side. “For me or Mother?”
“One for you and one for Lady Peg.” Sir Beccaroon cocked his head to look up at Tipper. “He’s proud of you. The king is still fuming and saying that you and your mother have no business dirtying your hands in this business. If he had any men to spare, he’d send them to roust you out of your own home and take you to the Amber Palace.”
“Then I’m glad he has the good sense to keep his men where they will do some good instead of interfering with our hospital.” She shook her head. “But it was really Mother who caused the upheaval. She pothered on like a peahen sighting a snake when she saw the inside of the hospital tent.”
“Her point is valid. Men on the road to recovery but not able-bodied yet will heal quicker here than on the front.” Sir Beccaroon’s forehead scrunched down over his eyes. “They aren’t moved every time we have to retreat, and the tent is less crowded without these men taking up space for the newly wounded.”
Tipper turned away, pressing her fist to her lips. She’d almost cried out. Instead, she batted back tears. “My grandfather wouldn’t even let me leave the healing dragons. Those men—”
Sir Beccaroon said nothing as she fought to get her emotions under control. She sniffed and turned back to her friend.
Bec wiped a tear from her cheek with the tip of his wing. “Paladin brought in another watch of healing dragons. They are working very well for the tumanhofer couple who took over the wounded.”
Tipper stared at the tiles on the mansion’s roof.
“Ah,” said the parrot. “Another reason for your dissatisfaction. You don’t get to see Paladin.”
Tipper didn’t answer.
Bec used his wing to turn Tipper toward the staircase. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well now … then, um, the main point of your father’s message is that he’s proud of you. And might I add, King Yellat has finally agreed to allow Verrin Schope to help with strategies.” He lifted his wingtip to the sky as if marking an important point. “Since then, there have been some less catastrophic engagements with the enemy.”
“Less catastrophic?”
“We aren’t being beaten at every encounter. We’ve actually won a skirmish or two.”
They descended the stairs. Sir Beccaroon left Tipper’s side to find Lady Peg and deliver her message from Verrin Schope. Tipper found Lipphil and asked that another room be opened for a ward and that new beds be erected. She hurried off to gather sheets.
Local men who worked in the fields aided in building beds. These older fellows did their best to tend the needs at home while younger men went to fight. They had slow hands but willing hearts. Tipper had grown fond of the men who answered Byrdschopen’s bugle call. Lipphil’s blast from the veranda had no tune, but between him and the other men, they’d made up a code they all understood.
It took the rest of the morning to tend to her duties with the healing dragons and the recovering soldiers. With the new beds made and noonmeal distributed among all those gathered—wounded, elderly, and the womenfolk—Lady Peg blessed their gathering and the food.
Rayn sat on Tipper’s lap. The other dragons preferred to forage, but the undersized minor