"What did this and when?"
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"An arrow, four days ago."
"I suppose some fool ripped the head out without waiting to have it removed properly?"
"We were in something of a hurry to avoid more of these in our backs."
"Humph. You're lucky you came to me. It should have been stitched immediately, but I'll do my
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best. I'm afraid you'll have a scar for the rest of your life."
"Small price to pay, sir, for what I avoided in running away."
The doctor threaded a needle he took from a clean pack. "And what was that?"
"An unhappy marriage--"
He gave a world-weary sigh. "There're plenty of those, my dear."
"To Fergox Spearthrower."
"In that case, you got off very lightly indeed." He glanced up at his patient.
"This will hurt, I'm afraid."
The doctor was impressed: she uttered not a moan as he stitched the wound.
"Good girl. You only needed four," he announced, snapping the thread.
"Only four. That's very auspicious," she said dryly. "Thank you."
"I'll remove them in a few days. Keep the wound clean and let me know if anything changes."
"Yes, Doctor."
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He looked her over again, noting her thinness and signs of recent ill treatment. "I'd say what you need most is rest and good food."
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"I like that prescription."
"I don't suppose you want to say where you got those?" He pointed to the bruises on her arms, legs, and chest. He leant closer. "If the men you are with have been violent towards you, I can
help. We have laws against that kind of thing here."
Tashi gave a strained hiccup of laughter. "You are very kind. No, my companions have treated
me with the greatest possible respect and
tenderness. I got these because I'm a witch, apparently, and wouldn't fight the priests of Holin."
Professor Norling sat back on his heels and tutted. "Disgraceful. Sometimes I despair of my
fellow countrymen. Their minds are nests breeding
superstition and fear. I have a salve that will help those heal. Rub it on twice a day and they'll be
gone by tomorrow night."
Melletin returned with Ramil and Gordoc.
"I apologize, my lady, but the commander deems it necessary to see you immediately," he said.
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Professor Norling shook his head. "My patient needs rest. She certainly shouldn't go traipsing
around the camp: I've just this moment finished stitching her up!"
Melletin grimaced. "Perhaps you might like to explain that to the commander.
Rather you than me, Professor."
"How is she?" Ramil asked anxiously.
"She would be much better if some idiot hadn't torn out the arrow," Norling replied, throwing his equipment back into his bag. Ramil looked abashed.
"But she'll do very well now as she's fortunate enough to have the best doctor in Brigard to look after her."
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"And the most modest," Tashi slipped in, keeping her face straight.
"I'll carry her to this commander of yours," said Gordoc, cutting through the difficulties with his usual clear-sightedness. He wrapped Tashi in a blanket and picked her up. "Lead on."
Melletin guided them through the maze of wooden pathways connecting the camp. The ground
was so wet it would soon turn into a quagmire without the boards, he explained. Professor
Norling tagged along behind the party, still muttering about doctors never being listened to or
respected in this uncivilized hole.
The commander resided in a tent double the size of the others, divided into several rooms.
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Melletin showed them into the first of these, the public area, and then disappeared through a
flap to inform his leader of their arrival.
Ramil began to feel nervous. It was all very well persuading a patrol by force to take them in, but
how would the commander look upon their presence? It surely wouldn't have escaped his
attention that Fergox would be ripping Brigard apart to find the two fugitives.
A man of medium height and heavy build pushed the flap aside and strode into the room.
Dressed smartly in the same green and brown colors of his patrol, he had curly dark-red hair and
a hooked nose. No one could look into his face and make the mistake that here was a man to
mess with. He gave a perfunctory bow.
"Prince Ramil ac Burinholt, Princess Taoshira, welcome to Brigard," he said, taking a chair behind a table. "Please be seated." Melletin came in with some
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camp stools and set them on the rugs in front of the commander's desk.
Professor Norling bustled forward. "Your Grace, my patient cannot perch on that thing. She
needs a proper chair at the very least."
The man rose and picked up his own chair, bringing it round to Tashi.
"Will that do, Tadex?" he asked, taking a stool for himself.
Norling nodded and retired with his professional dignity intact to the pile of cushions at the side
of the chamber. Gordoc placed Tashi in the chair, then stood behind her, arms folded.
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"Thank you for your welcome, sir," said Ramil, taking his seat. "May we know who addresses us?"
"I am Nerul ac Mollinder, the Duke of Brigard, one of the last surviving members of the ruling
family."
Ramil stood up and bowed. "Your Grace, I am honored to meet you. We thought your family had
been wiped out by the Spearthrower."
Nerul spat at the mention of Fergox. "The last duke, my uncle, and his sons were killed in battle.
My mother and father were hanged on the battlements of our castle in Mollinder when the
occupier rode in to enjoy his triumph. The rest of my relatives are either dead or slaves. Only my
brother and I slipped through the net like two of our fenland eels."
"I grieve for the old duke and your family. My father always spoke most highly of him," said Ramil.
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A slim red-haired man entered from the private quarters carrying a roll of parchment. From the
strong resemblance between the two men, Ramil
guessed this was the younger brother, but whereas Nerul gave the
impression of authority and strength, this man was handsome and elegant, his movements
graceful--the courtier to the commander.
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"My brother, Merl ac Mollinder," Nerul said in a businesslike tone.
Merl bowed, inspecting the newcomers. He gave Ramil and Gordoc a brief glance, but his gaze
lingered on the Princess. Tashi lowered her eyes, not liking his frank interest.
"So, against the odds, you escaped the Spearthrower and stole his and the she-wolf's
warhorses," Nerul said, his fingers laced together on the desk.
"My spies carry all sorts of incredible tales about the pair of you-- and your giant." He nodded at Gordoc. "You will not be surprised to hear that Fergox and his sister are none too pleased. I
understand that before you said your farewells to him, you were both destined in your different
ways to join the Spearthrower dynasty."
Ramil nodded. "Therefore you will understand why we were so anxious to put some distance
between us and our suitors."
"Quite. But what of the Princess here? You are very quiet, Your Highness."
"I have nothing to say, Your Grace," Tashi replied, still feeling Merl's gaze on her. Each time she glanced up, he was watching her with a strange look in 187