Sheepfarmer's Dauther

ban or no.”

Paks swallowed the cold water gratefully. “Then, sir, he was angry for what I said—”

“It couldn’t have been that bad—what did you say?”

“Pargsli spakin i tokko—”

“D’you know what that means, girl?”

“No—my cousin said it was bad.”

A flicker of amusement relaxed Stammel’s face for a moment. “It is. I suggest you learn what curses mean before you say them. Then what?”

“He clapped a hand over my mouth, and tried to push me down on the bunk.” She took another swallow of water.

“Yes?”

“So I bit his hand, to make him let go, and he did and I got free. But he was between me and the door, and he took off his belt—”

“Did he say anything?”

“Yes, sir. He threatened to beat me, to tame me, and then he swung the belt, and I ran at him, trying to get away. I thought I could push past him, maybe, the way I did with my father. But he grabbed my throat—” her hand rose, unconsciously, “—and hit my face, and—and I couldn’t breathe. I thought be would kill me, and I had to fight. I had to breathe—”

“Hmmph. That sounds more like the recruit I thought I had. Tell the rest of it.”

“I—it’s hard to remember. I broke the throat hold, but I couldn’t get away, he was so fast and strong. We were on the floor, mostly, and he was yelling at me—hitting—I remember feeling weaker, and then someone was holding my arms, and someone was hitting me. I suppose that was after you came, though wasn’t it?”

Stammel’s face wore a puzzled frown. “No one hit you after I got there. When I came in Korryn was hanging onto you, Stephi was lying on the floor, and Korryn said he’d just then been able to pull you off. Captain Sejek wanted to hit you, all right, but he didn’t.” Stammel sighed. “If you’re telling the truth, girl, I can see why you fought. But Korryn was there, or says he was, and his story is against yours, as well as Stephi.”

“He was there, at the beginning, but he just laughed. I—I am telling the truth, sir, really I am.” Paks swallowed noisily. “But I can see why you wouldn’t believe me, if you’ve known him—Stephi?—so long. Only, that’s what really happened, sir, no matter what Korryn says.”

“If it were only your word against Korryn’s—” Stammel paused and stretched, then shifted his weight to the other leg. “Paks have you bedded anyone here?”

“No, sir.”

“You’ve been asked, surely?”

“Yes, sir, but I haven’t. I don’t want to. And I asked Maia—”

“Maia?”

“The quartermaster’s assistant. I asked her if I had to, and she said no, but not to make a fuss about being asked, like I might at home.”

“Has Korryn bothered you about it?”

Paks began to tremble, remembering Korryn’s constant teasing, taunting attempts to force her into bed with him. “He’s asked me,” she whispered.

“Paks, look at me.” She looked up. “Has he done more than ask?”

“He—he has sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say something to me or Bosk?”

Paks shook her head. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to—to make a fuss. I thought I was supposed to take care of it—”

“You aren’t supposed to act like a new wench in an alehouse, no. But no fighter should have to put up with that sort of thing from a companion. When you refuse, they’re supposed to drop it; there’s plenty enough that are willing. I wish I’d known; we’d have put a stop to that.” He paused briefly. “Are you a sisli?”

“I—I don’t know what that is. He—the corporal—asked me that too.”

“Like Barranyi and Natzlin in Kefer’s unit. A woman who beds women. Are you?”

“No, sir. Not that I know of. Does it matter?”

“Not really.” Stammel shifted his weight again and sighed. “Paks, I want to believe you. You’ve been a good recruit so far. But I just don’t know—and even if I believe you, there’s the captain. Sejek is—umph. You’re in more trouble than most people find in a whole enlistment.”

Paks felt tears sting her eyes. It was hopeless. If Stammel still thought she could be lying, no one else would believe her. She thought briefly of Saben, who had left before the fight broke out—why hadn’t he stayed? Her belly turned again, and she heaved the water she’d drunk into the bucket. She hurt all over, and tomorrow could only be worse. A sob shook her body, then another one. She tried to choke them back.

“Wishing you were back on the farm, Paks?” Stammel’s voice was almost gentle.

Her head came up in surprise. “No, sir. I just wish—I wish it hadn’t happened, or that you’d been there to see it all.”

“Still want to be a soldier, even after this?”

“Of course! It’s what I’ve always wanted, but—but if everyone thinks I’m lying—I’ll never have the chance.” She retched again.

“Paks, is all this heaving from being in trouble, or what?”

“I—I think it’s from being hit, here—” She gestured at her midriff. “It hurts there.”

“I thought you just had a black eye and a bloody nose—let’s see, can you sit up straighter?” Stammel moved away from the light to her side. “No, keep looking toward the light. Hmm—that whole side of your face is swollen. I can’t even see your eyelashes. Your nose is broken, certainly.” He touched the swelling very gently. Paks winced. “That could be from more than one blow. Do your ears ring?”

“Yes, sir—but it comes and goes.”

“What’s this gash on your shoulder? He didn’t have a blade, did he?”

“No. I think that was the belt buckle. My father’s used to do that.”

“I wish this torchlight was brighter and steadier,” grumbled Stammel. “Lift your chin. Looks like your throat is bruised, too. Does it hurt to breathe?”

“Just a little.”

“Well, where else are you hurt?”

“In—in front. It all hurts. And my legs.”

“Stand up, then. I’ll want a look at the damage.”

Paksenarrion tried to stand, but her legs had stiffened after hours of sitting on the cold stone. At first she could not move at all, but when Stammel gave her an arm to pull up on, she staggered up, still unable to straighten. She could not repress a short cry of pain.

“Here—lean against the wall if you aren’t steady.” Stammel swung her around and braced her against the wall opposite the torch. “Tir’s bones, I don’t see how you could have half-killed him in the shape you’re in.” Then he paused, glancing down at his arm and then at the stone bench. “It is blood. What did they—”

Paks felt herself slipping down the wall; she could not seem to hold herself up.

“Here, now—don’t fall,” said Stammel. The warning came too late. Paks lay curled on her side, heaving helplessly.

“I’m—I’m sorry—” she gasped finally.

“Lie still then. Let me look—” Stammel raised her tunic. Even in the flickering torchlight he could see the welts and dried blood on her thighs. Her tunic was ripped in several places. Stammel swore suddenly, words Paks had heard from her cousin. Then his voice softened. “Paks, I’m going to talk to the captain. We’ll get this straightened out somehow. You can’t be faking these injuries, and their story doesn’t hold up when you’re too weak to stand.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, let’s get you back on the bench. I’ll try to get the captain to let me have Maia see you, but don’t count on it.” He half-lifted her. “Come on—help me. You’re too big for me to lift alone.”

Paks struggled up and finally made it onto the bench with Stammel’s help.

“I’ll be back to check again tonight, and of course in the morning. You’ll be all right, though miserable. Try not