“Talid,” Ulanain stood, moving to check the old man’s hands, though as a non-channeler himself, he didn’t know what to look for. “Aren’t there other priests that can handle this? How many anointed priests do we have in Highland alone? A thousand?”
“Eight hundred and sixty-three on the books,” the priest admitted. “Although over five hundred of those are off now with the armies so that they might help heal the sick and injured there. No, my prince, do not worry about this little bit of tiredness.” Talid lifted his hands and snapped his fingers to show that they were still spry. “I may not be good enough to fix up gunshot wounds, but the Highlord gave me this power for a reason.”
“Wasn’t it my father that gave you that power?” Ulanain asked, indicating with his own spry fingers the lack of
