A sob coughed up from his throat. Tears stung at his eyes, he had to look away and blink to stop himself crying. He was a pitiable specimen, alright. A brave son of the Union, a bold officer of the King's Own, a winner of the Contest, no less, and he could scarcely keep from weeping.

'Hold this,' snapped Ferro's voice.

'Uh,' he whispered, trying to press the sobs down into his chest and stop them cracking his voice. He held one end of the fresh bandage against his face while she wrapped it round his head and under his jaw, round and round, holding his mouth near shut.

'You'll live.'

'Is that supposed to be a comfort?' he mumbled.

She shrugged as she turned away. 'There are plenty who don't.'

Jezal almost envied them as he watched her stalk off through the waving grass. How he wished Ardee was here. He remembered the last sight of her, looking up at him in the soft rain with that crooked smile. She would never have left him like this, helpless and in pain. She would have spoken soft words, and touched his face, and looked at him with her dark eyes, and kissed him gently, and… sentimental shit. Probably she had found some other idiot to tease, and confuse, and make miserable, and had never paid him so much as a second thought. He tortured himself with the thought of her laughing at some other man's jokes, smiling into some other man's face, kissing some other man's mouth. She would never want him now, that was sure. No one would want him. He felt his lip trembling again, his eyes tingling.

'All the great heroes of old, you know—the great kings, the great generals—they all faced adversity from time to time.' Jezal looked up. He had almost forgotten that Bayaz was there. 'Suffering is what gives a man strength, my boy, just as the steel most hammered turns out the hardest.'

The old man winced as he squatted down beside Jezal. 'Anyone can face ease and success with confidence. It is the way we face trouble and misfortune that defines us. Self-pity goes with selfishness, and there is nothing more to be deplored in a leader than that. Selfishness belongs to children, and to halfwits. A great leader puts others before himself. You would be surprised how acting so makes it easier to bear one's own troubles. In order to act like a king, one need only treat everyone else like one.' And he placed a hand on Jezal's shoulder. Perhaps it was supposed to be a fatherly and reassuring touch, but he could feel it trembling through his shirt. Bayaz let it rest there for a moment as though he had not the strength to move it, then pushed himself slowly up, stretched his legs, and shuffled off.