“Yes, my lord.”
“You may go.”
Paks was hardly aware of it when the Duke’s servants stripped off her wet and filthy tunic and wrapped her in warm furs. She roused, coughing, only when the surgeon spooned a bit of fiery liquid into her mouth.
“I hate to do this,” the Duke was saying, “but we must know what message she brings. Can you tell how badly she’s hurt?”
Paks opened her eyes and tried to focus on the surgeon. He pressed a mug to her lips and she swallowed. Whatever it was, it sent warm currents through her cold arms and legs, and cleared the fog from her head.
“Exhaustion, mostly,” said the surgeon. “Maybe a broken rib or two, and this cut—sword or knife wound, but not bad. Bruises and scrapes; I’d say she’s fallen many times in the last day or so. She needs sleep, my lord, as soon as may be.” He met Paks’s eyes. “Better now? Drink the rest.”
Paks swallowed again, and then again. He took the mug away and offered another, of steaming sib. When she had drunk half of that, she turned her head to see the room around her. The Duke was dressed in his usual mail, as were the captains with him.
“There, my lord,” said the surgeon. “She’ll be able to talk with you a short while; I hope it’s enough.”
“If not, we’ll dose her again.”
“My lord, that would be most unwise. She will need to sleep—”
“You may go,” said the Duke. “And leave that stuff here.”
“But my lord—”
“I’ve no more wish than you to harm a good soldier, Master Visanior, but I must know her message. You may go.”
Paks felt the surface under her shift as the surgeon stood, and realized that she lay in a bed. The Duke’s face replaced the surgeon’s.
“Now, Paks,” he began. “You were in the fort when the Halverics came. Your name is on the roll I received for ransom. What happened: did you break your parole?”
Paks shook her head. When she tried to speak, the words came easily. “No, my lord. We were waiting to be ransomed—most of the Halverics had left, and they let us go outside a lot. We were gathering berries one day when strange troops came up the road—many of them—and the Halveric captain rode out to meet them. Then he fell from his horse, and they started chasing those outside the walls—”
“Except you?”
“As far as I know, my lord. We—”
“Who—how many?”
“Three of us, sir. Saben and Canna and I. We were in tall brambles, and they didn’t see us. We made it into the woods, and—”
“What about the fort?”
“They attacked it, sir, but the Halverics dropped the portcullis—we heard that—and we saw our men on the wall as well as theirs. So we started south to tell you—”
“You came all the way from the fort?” Paks nodded. “On foot?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“How long were you? When did the attack happen?”
Paks tried to count back. “Sir, we were—seven days, coming. It was the afternoon before we started that they came.”
“Were you on the road all the way?”
“No, sir; we weren’t on the road at all. They had patrols, and we were nearly caught the first day, so Canna said to stay off the road, as far as we could and not get lost.”
“Where is the Honeycat now?”
“I—don’t know, sir. They were on the road—we watched them past the crossroads to be sure, and then we came ahead. We had—had trouble.” Paks shivered at the memory of uncle’s place.
“I daresay.” The Duke sighed, and looked up. “Well, captains, we have trouble ahead of us, too. If he’s come to relieve the siege, he’ll hit the lines somewhere, and we’d best find out where.” He turned back to Paks. “Where are the others, Paks? Were they killed?”
Paks had forgotten Canna and Saben in her anxiety to see the Duke. Now the memory of their last encounter returned full force. Her eyes widened. “Sir! The brigands! They attacked us in the forest, and—and Saben and Canna—I don’t know what happened. Canna said to run—I had to leave them. I had to get to you, my lord, but I didn’t mean to leave them to—”
“Shh. That’s all right. We don’t think that of you. You did well.”
“But, sir, you must find them—they need help—” Paks felt her strength and awareness slipping away again. She wanted to get up and find Saben and Canna, she wanted to chase the Honeycat, she wanted—she fell into sleep as dreamless as a cave.
She woke again in broad daylight, hearing voices from the next room. For awhile she lay with her eyes closed, listening idly.
“I don’t want guesses, Jori; I want facts.” That was the Duke, and he sounded angry.
“No, sir. But the scouts haven’t found anything else.”
“They’d better. Jori, go back to the Sorellin—no, wait. Take this to Vladi—”
“Sir, the Count?”
“Yes. Don’t look like that, just do it. It’s around the far side; take a fast horse. Wait for an answer. I’ll go to the Sorellin commander myself. Go on, now.”
A much younger voice. “If only they hadn’t been so careless in the forest.”
The Duke snorted. “What is it, Jostin, did you expect me to scold her for that?”
“Well, my lord, you’ve always said to us—”
“Lad, some mistakes carry their own punishment. And consider what they did—I doubt any of you squires could make such a journey. After all that, you don’t scold like an old granny for things they couldn’t help.”
“But they should have been watching—”
The Duke’s voice hardened. “When you’ve done as much, squire, you may offer criticisms. For now, you may ready my mount. Go.”
Paks opened her eyes. She was in the tent, in a small curtained room, wrapped in soft furs on a bed. Slumped on a stool nearby was a servant, who jumped up when he met her eyes.
“Are you awake? Can you speak?”
Paks yawned, swallowed, and managed to say yes.
“My lord Duke,” called the servant, “she’s awake.” He offered Paks a mug of sib. She was warm and comfortable as long as she held still, but when she tried to shift her legs, she ached in every muscle. The Duke pushed through the curtains between the rooms.
“Paks, I know you need more sleep, but I need more information. Sim will bring you something to eat, while you answer my questions.”
Paks tried to push herself up in the bed, but failed. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Now, this force you reported—the colors were black and yellow, you said. Any other reason for thinking it was the Honeycat?”
“Yes, my lord. That first day we overheard one of the mounted men; he called his commander Lord Siniava. Canna said that was the same.”
“Yes. It is. You said he took prisoners—do you know where they are?”
“With the column, sir. I don’t know about the fort, but the ones outside are with the column.”
“Just our men?”
“No, sir. Some Halverics, too. But he killed those who tried to run or fight.”
“Just a moment; I want someone else to hear this.” The Duke stepped to the curtain and returned with a man in dark green that looked like the Halveric uniform. “Cal, you’ll need to hear this for yourself. Go on, Paks.”
Paks looked curiously at the man before turning back to the Duke. She was not sure what he wanted to
