was prepared with my nail story for that. Instead he leaned over to look at a place between my shoulder and my neck, where a Forged one had bitten a chunk out of me in a long-ago fight. My bowels turned to water. He looked at the gnarled scar there, then suddenly threw his head back and laughed.
'Damn. I didn't think it was you, Bastard. I was sure it wasn't. But that's the mark I remember seeing, the first time I drove you into the floor.' He looked at the men standing around us, surprise and delight still on his face. 'It's him! We've got him. The King's got his Skillwizards spread from the Mountains to the coast looking for him, and he falls like fruit into our hands.' He licked his lips as he ran his eyes over me gloatingly. I sensed a strange hunger in him, one he almost feared. He seized me suddenly by the throat and hauled me up on my toes. He brought his face close to mine as he hissed, 'Understand me. Verde was a friend. It's not a hundred gold pieces for you alive that keeps me from killing you here. It's only my faith that my king can come up with more interesting ways for you to die than I can improvise here. You're mine again, Bastard, in the circle. Or as much of you as my king leaves for me anyway.'
He shoved me violently away from him into the fire. I stumbled through it and was immediately seized by two men on the other side. I looked from one to the other wildly. 'It's a mistake!' I cried out. 'A terrible mistake!'
'Shackle him,' Bolt ordered them hoarsely.
Madge stepped suddenly forward. 'You're certain of this man?' she asked him directly.
He met her eyes, captain to captain. 'I am. It's the WitBastard.'
A look of total disgust crossed Madge's face. 'Then take him and welcome to him.' She turned on her heel and walked away.
My guards had been watching the conversation between Madge and their captain rather than paying attention to the trembling man between them. I chanced it all, breaking toward the fire as I snapped my arms free of their careless grips. I shouldered a startled Bolt aside and fled like a rabbit. I wove through the camp, past the tinker's wagon, and saw only wide-open country before me. Dawn had grayed the plain to a featureless rumpled blanket. No cover, no destination. I just ran.
I had expected men on foot after me, or men on horses. I hadn't expected a man with a sling. The first rock hit me on the flat of my left shoulder, numbing my arm. I kept running. I thought at first I'd taken an arrow. Then the bolt of lightning hit me.
When I woke up, my wrists were chained. My left shoulder ached horribly, but not as badly as the lump on my head. I managed to wiggle up to a sitting position. No one paid much attention to me. A shackle on each of my ankles was hooked to the length of chain that ran up and through a loop forged onto the chain that shackled my wrists together. A second, much shorter chain between my ankles was not even enough to let me take a full step. If I'd been able to stand.
I said nothing, did nothing. Shackled, I had no chance against six armed men. I didn't want to give them any excuse to brutalize me. Still, it took every bit of my will to sit quietly and consider my situation. The sheer weight of the chain was daunting, as was the chill of the iron biting into my flesh in the cold night air. I sat, head bowed, looking at my feet. Bolt noticed I was awake. He came to stand looking down at me. I kept my eyes on my own feet.
'Say something, damn you!' Bolt ordered me suddenly.
'You've got the wrong man, sir,' I said timidly. I knew there would be no convincing him of that, but perhaps I could shake his men's belief.
Bolt laughed. He went and sat back down by the fire. Then he lay back on his elbows. 'If I have, it's just too damn bad for you. But I know I don't. Look at me, Bastard. How was it you didn't stay dead?'
I shot him a fearful glance. 'I don't know what you mean, sir.'
It was the wrong response. He was tigerish in his speed, coming up from his reclining position to fly across the fire at me. I scrabbled to my feet but there was no escaping him. He seized me by my chains, drew me up, and slapped me stingingly. Then, 'Look at me,' he ordered.
I brought my eyes back to his face.
'How was it you didn't die, Bastard?'
'It wasn't me. You've got the wrong man.'
I got the back of his hand the second time.
Chade had once told me that, under torture, it is easier to resist questioning if you focus your mind on what you will say, rather than what you must not. I knew it was stupid and useless to tell Bolt I was not FitzChivalry. He knew I was. But having adopted that course, I stuck to it. The fifth time he hit me, one of his men spoke out behind me.
'With all respect, sir?'
Bolt flashed a furious look at the man. 'What is it?'
The man wet his lips. 'The captive was to be alive, sir. For the gold to be paid.'
Bolt turned his eyes back to me. It was unnerving to see the hunger in him, a craving such as Verity had for the Skill. This man liked to give pain. Liked to kill slowly. It only made him hate me all the more that he could not. 'I know that,' he said brusquely to the man. I saw his fist coming, but there was no way to avoid it.
When I came awake, it was full morning. There was pain. For a time, that was all I really knew. Pain, bad pain in one shoulder, and down my ribs on the same side. He'd probably kicked me, I decided. I didn't want to move any part of my face. Why, I wondered, is pain always worse when you're cold? I felt curiously detached from my situation. I listened for a time, with no desire at all to open my eyes. The caravan was getting ready to move on. I could hear Master Dell yelling at Tassin, who was crying that it was her money by right, that if he'd only help her get it, he could have his apprentice fee back and full welcome to it. He ordered her to get in the wagon. Instead I heard her footsteps crunching across the dry earth as she hurried over to me. But it was Bolt she spoke to in a whining voice. 'I was right. You didn't believe me, but I was right. I found him for you. If it weren't for me, you'd have ridden off after looking right at him. That gold is mine, by right. But I'll give you half and be more than happy. That's better than fair for you, you know it is.'
'I'd get in that wagon, were I you,' Bolt answered her coldly. 'Otherwise, once it leaves and we leave, you're left with nothing but a long walk.'
She had the sense not to argue with him, but she muttered dirty names to herself all the way back to the wagon. I heard Dell tell her she was nothing but trouble and he'd be well rid of her at Blue Lake.
'Get him on his feet, Joff,' Bolt ordered someone.
They dashed water on me, and I got one eye open. I watched a guard pick up the slack of my chain and jerk on it. That woke a host of lesser pains. 'Get up!' she ordered me. I managed to nod. One of my teeth was loose. I could only see out of one eye. I started to lift my hands to my face to see how bad it was, but a tug on my chain prevented me. 'Does he ride or walk?' the one holding my chain asked Bolt as I staggered upright.
'I'd love to drag him, but it would slow us down too much. He rides. You double with Arno and put him on your horse. Tie him in the saddle and keep a tight grip on your horse's lead. He's playing dumb now, but he's mean and he's tricky. I don't know if he can do all the Wit things they say he can, but I don't want to find out. So keep a good grip on that lead rope. Where's Arno, anyway?'
'Off in the scrub, sir. His guts ain't too well today. He was up and down all night, dumping his sack.'
'Get him.' Bolt's tone made it plain that he wasn't interested in the man's problems. My guard hurried off, leaving me swaying on my feet. I lifted my hands to my face. I had only seen the one blow coming, but plainly there had been others. Endure, I told myself sternly. Live, and see what chances are offered you. I dropped my hands to find Bolt watching me.
'Water?' I asked in a slurry voice.
I didn't really expect any, but he turned to one of his other guards and made a small motion. A few moments later the fellow brought me a bucket of water and two dry biscuits. I drank and splashed my face. The biscuits were hard and my mouth was very sore, but I tried to get down what I could of them. I doubted I'd get much more in the day to come. I noticed then that my pouch was gone. I supposed Bolt had taken it while I was unconscious. My heart sank at the thought of Burrich's earring gone. As I gnawed gingerly at my biscuit, I wondered what he had thought of the powders in my pouch.
Bolt had us mounted and riding out before the caravan left. I caught one glimpse of Starling's face, but could not read her expression. Creece and my master carefully avoided even looking at me for fear of catching my taint. It was as if they had never known me at all.
They'd put me on a sturdy mare. My wrists were strapped tightly to the saddle pommel, making it impossible
