"At my age, you hardly notice one pain amidst all the rest," Gaius replied. "The first day wasn't too bad. They weren't comfortable last night, but they didn't get bad until this morning."

Bernard nodded. "The real concern is infection. If we're early enough to stop that, we should be able to handle the rest easily enough."

"Quite embarrassing," Gaius muttered, staring down at his swollen ankles. "Sore feet. This is hardly dignified."

"Travel sores are no respecters of persons, sire," Bernard said. "First thing, let's get you on the ground with your feet up. It will help reduce the swelling and some of the discomfort."

"That would be most appreciated, Count Bernard." Gaius sighed. With the woodsman's help, the First Lord settled himself on the ground, his feet propped up on the stool, where he frowned at them in disapproval while gnawing an apple.

Bernard dumped out the water and went to the spring to refill it, and Amara went with him.

"How bad?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "I've seen worse-once. On a Legion runner who had enough metalcrafting to ignore the pain and not enough sense to know he shouldn't. He took infection so badly even my sister couldn't help him. He lost the foot, and the fever burned out most of his wits."

Amara bit her lip and brushed her hair back from her forehead. "That bad?"

Bernard grimaced. "We got to the First Lord more quickly-though great furies know what might have happened if you hadn't spotted him limping."

"Quickly enough?"

"Amara…" He sighed. "I don't know."

Amara took a deep breath and nodded. "What can we do?"

"We can have him craft the wounds closed," Bernard said.

Amara shook her head. "No. He can't. Any of his crafting at all will give our position away and make the mission a failure."

Bernard gave her a direct look. "So will his maiming or death, love."

Amara glared at him for a moment, but looked away and shook her head. "Is he in any immediate danger?"

Bernard stood up with the pot full. "He's not going to pitch over dead any moment now, no. If he does take fever, it will take some time to kill him. Days, probably, maybe longer."

"Then we have some time," Amara said.

"We might," Bernard said, "but then again, we might not. An infection could be taking hold while we stand here talking." Bernard folded his arms. "This is a humble little wound. But it doesn't care who he is. It's capable of killing him if he doesn't receive proper medical attention."

Amara folded her arms close to her belly and frowned down at the stream.

"Let me put it this way," Bernard said slowly. He turned to face Amara full on, planting his feet at shoulder's width. "It is beyond foolishness to risk the First Lord's life on something this trivial. I won't allow it."

Amara stared at her husband's face for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"I won't allow it," he repeated, his tone gentle and immovable. "I'll give away our presence myself if I must."

Amara forced herself to keep a hot answer from flying from her lips. "Bernard," she said quietly, "that's treason."

"Not the way I see it," he said. "I'm sworn to protect the Crown. The oath never said anything about protecting the Crown from anyone except himself. You swore a similar oath, I believe."

"You can't make a decision like this," Amara sputtered.

"I already have," he replied. "It's been a long time since Gaius was on campaign, and you've never been on one. You've never seen men die of infection." He looked down and away. "It robs them of everything, Amara. All dignity. All strength. They waste away, so fast you can almost see it happening." He shuddered. "The Realm is barely holding together as it is. Should anything happen to Gaius, should he die like that…"

She bit her lip and touched his shoulder. "He knows that there are risks, love. He has chosen to face them."

"He is responsible for more lives than his own," Bernard responded. "What is so important that it warrants risking his life?"

"I don't know," Amara replied quietly. "He didn't tell me."

Bernard shot her an incredulous look. "You don't even know why we're doing this?"

She shook her head.

"Then bloody crows, Amara, why are you opposing me?"

"Because I trust his judgment," Amara said quietly. "Because I swore an oath." She paused briefly, and added, "Just as you did."

Bernard grunted, as if to acknowledge the touch.

Amara leaned in close against him, and he slid an arm quietly around her. She laid her cheek against his chest. "If he didn't tell you, either, why are you here?"

Bernard's voice rumbled in his chest, a pleasant buzzing sensation in her ear. "He said he needed a skilled woodsman and scout, someone he could trust." He breathed out a little through his nose, a wisp of a laugh. "And he said you'd be there. I suppose he knew it would be reason enough for me."

Amara lifted her head suddenly to stare intently into her husband's face. "Just as he knew that once we were back together, I would be too distracted by you to ask too many questions." She felt a wry smile twist her mouth. "Until it was too late to change our minds, I suppose."

Bernard frowned, and squinted back toward where Gaius sat, and said, "We're not going a step farther until I know exactly what we're walking into."

Amara frowned in thought for a moment, and spoke slowly. "I suppose my duty would be to oppose you putting an end to this mission. Strictly speaking."

"You did that once before," Bernard replied, his eyes brightening with brief amusement. "You'll recall how it worked out." His expression grew more serious. "You couldn't stop me from compromising us, Amara. And without using furycraft, I doubt he could do it, either. Even if he could walk right now."

Amara nodded slowly, "Just as well, perhaps."

"Oh?"

"It gives us a lever to use on him." She glanced back at the First Lord. "He keeps secrets purely as a reflex action, these days. I can't serve or protect him if I'm kept blind and wandering in the dark. But…"

Bernard found her hand with his, and squeezed gently. "But what?"

She felt her lips tighten. "It just doesn't feel right. So many have turned against him. Fidelias…"

Tears filled her eyes in approximate tempo with a surge of heated anger, as she thought of her treacherous mentor, and it became impossible to speak.

"It isn't the same, love," he told her quietly. "You're trying to protect him and using your best judgment. It isn't the same thing at all."

"I hope you're right," she said quietly. She shook her head, blinking the tears away before they could fall. Then she nodded once, composed herself, and strode back over to Gaius, Bernard in step beside her.

The First Lord looked back and forth between their expressions, then said, "Ah."

Amara came to a stop before him, and knelt down to put her eyes more or less on level with his own. "Sire, Count Calderon…"

He lifted a hand with a little, impatient wave, and glanced at Bernard. "We're not walking another mile until you know what we're getting into? Something like that?"

Bernard snorted through his nose. "Not another step, actually, sire."

Gaius winced, shifting one of his legs. "Is it that bad?"

Bernard approached as well, kneeling down and brushing away a layer of forest detritus with one hand, revealing a number of small white-and-pink crystals. He dropped them into the pan and began swirling the water as he spoke. "Without proper watercrafting? It has the potential to be very bad, sire, yes."

Gaius made a disgusted noise. "I suppose I'd be a fool to bring along an expert woodsman only to ignore his advice."

Bernard's mouth quirked up at one corner. "I'd never say that, sire."

Gaius's teeth flashed white for a moment. "Not in so many words, anyway, eh?" He studied his own raw and bloodied feet. "Your recommendation involves my crafting the injuries away, I take it."