"I fear you are right. Sorry, lads, but we live in dangerous times and it is better to be safe than sorry." The leader drew a knife from his belt and yanked Ramil back by the hair, exposing his

throat to the blade.

Just then a stone sailed out of the rushes close to the river bank, hitting the red-haired man

square on the forehead. He was felled like a tree put to the axe. A second stone followed,

striking the swarthy man in the back. He yelled and sprang round, giving Gordoc a chance to

grab him in a crushing hug. Ramil scrambled to his feet and drew his sword. Tashi limped out

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into the open, her cloth sling weighed down with another missile. The three remaining men

retreated, holding their pikes out in front of them.

Ramil grinned at her in amazement. "I thought you didn't fight," he said, circling round to stand beside her.

"I don't fight for the Warmonger, but I'll fight for my friends," she replied, swinging her sling with intent. "You learn a thing or two as a goat girl."

"Thank the Mother for that." Ramil turned his attention back to the red-haired man who was

coming round. He placed the point of his sword at the man's throat.

"Now, let's start again, shall we?" he said politely. "We're not from Fergox--

not in the sense you mean. In fact, we are even less anxious than you to meet with his

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spies or his soldiers. We were just intending to make a peaceful camp and go on our way before

you rudely interrupted us. Now it seems only fair that you tell us who you are and why you felt

obliged to slit our throats without giving us a fair hearing?"

The red-haired man groaned and sat up. He then noticed the girl with her long fair hair and

immediately cringed away.

"The witch!" he cried, touching two fingers to his forehead to ward off evil.

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Tashi felt a flash of annoyance. "Let's not start all that again!" she said tartly.

"I'm not a witch. I'm just a foreigner with different colored hair who speaks another language. I didn't strike you down with a spell. I hit you with a stone picked up from the riverbank. You

should know because you can feel the lump it left on your thick skull!"

The man shuffled back a pace on all fours. "But you escaped from Felixholt by witchcraft, they

say."

"I escaped thanks to the cunning and strength of my friends and a bit of play-acting on my part."

She walked off to the edge of the clearing in disgust. "I hate Easterners," she muttered to the horses, burying her head in Thunder's mane.

Ramil smiled at the haughty back of the Princess Taoshira, relieved that she had regained some

of her spirit. "But at least you will believe us when we say we do not wish to place ourselves in Fergox's tender loving care again as we've taken so much trouble to escape. Now you know who

we are, tell us who you are."

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The red-haired leader raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm Melletin Fernson. You've

run into a patrol of the Fenland Resistance."

"Resistance? To the occupation by Holt?"

"That's right. The last unconquered corner. Fergox does not yet hold sway over this part of

Brigard, though he likes to claim it is all his. We only cling on here because he doesn't know too

much about us. That's why we were going to silence you."

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Ramil let the euphemism for killing him pass. There would be time enough to settle that score if

things went well. He lowered his sword. "Then, friend Melletin, we are on the same side. I am

Prince Ramil ac Burinholt, this is the Blue Crescent Princess you've heard about, and the giant

there squeezing that unpleasant fellow to death is our loyal friend, Gordoc Ironfist. Hey,

Gordoc!" Ramil called. "You'd better let him go."

The swarthy man dropped to the ground, gasping for air.

"Now the niceties of introductions are over, perhaps you would be so kind as to conduct us to

some shelter. The lady here has been wounded and could do with a proper healer, if you know

one." Ramil held out a hand to pull Melletin to his feet.

Melletin rubbed his forehead. "She's not the only one. I can take you to our camp. But I'm afraid we cannot offer luxuries fitted to a prince."

"My friend, last night I slept in a boat, the night before that in a hovel, so I'm sure whatever you have will be an improvement."

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Following in the footsteps of Melletin and his band, Ramil and Gordoc led the horses with Tashi

mounted on Thunder. They travelled deeper into the Fens. It was easy to see how the resistance

might be able to survive out in these wilds. No army could march through on this boggy ground

in formation and it would be relatively easy to pick off the enemy's forces in swift raids from the

rushes. Hundreds of men could simply be made to disappear and no one would ever know their

fate. Even the Spearthrower's favorite subduing tactic of slash and burn would not work here

where there was more water than fuel for fires.

They arrived at the camp at dusk. Tashi was relieved to see that it was a more substantial place

than she had anticipated, consisting of semi-permanent domed tents made from hides stretched

over bent poles. Each dwelling had its own chimney and garden plot. Melletin led them to his

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tent, one of the largest in the settlement.

"Please enter and take your rest. I must report our arrival to my commander and seek approval

for my decision to bring you here. I'll also send a doctor for the lady." He gave Tashi a wary look, but whether that was because he still thought her a witch or because he remembered her skill

with the sling, she didn't know.

Tashi was left alone in the tent while Ramil and Gordoc saw to the horses.

She stretched out with a sigh of pleasure on the cushions spread on the cheerful home-woven

rugs. The tent smelt of fresh rushes on the floor and wood smoke. Melletin's things were spread

around untidily. There was a neat little stove in

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the center with a pipe leading outside. Tashi held her chilblained hands up to the warmth,

feeling them tingle as they defrosted.

She heard a polite cough at the door. Tashi turned to find a man with long white hair and a

neatly trimmed beard waiting for permission to enter.

"Please come in," she said, half-rising.

"No, no, don't get up," said the man briskly, plumping his bag down on the floor beside her. "I'd be a poor doctor if I made my injured patients leap to their feet on my arrival."

"The wound's not so bad now."

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"Let me be the judge of that, young lady," the doctor said sternly. "Now let's have a look at it."

Shyly, Tashi drew aside her clothing. Alert to her embarrassment, the doctor began talking again

to take her mind away from his examination.

"My name is Norling, Professor Tadex Norling, formerly of the University of Molinder, our old

capital, now chief medical officer of the new capital of all true Brigardians, fondly known as

Fenbog."

"I'm honored, sir, to have your attention," Tashi said, guessing that this was quite a comedown for the august professor of medicine.

"God in his wisdom has seen fit to return me to my professional roots. Who am I to argue with

Him?" He unwound her makeshift bandage and gave a disgruntled hum. The wound was still

oozing blood and clearly giving the patient much pain.