"Reasons!" His mouth worked and he spat blood. "Being poor's reason enough—that and going looking for work. That'll get you killed, that will—going along, trying to find a place, and nothing—nothing." He twisted his neck, wincing, to look around.

Paks felt an obscure sympathy she had not expected with this weatherworn robber. He did not look as if he'd enjoyed his life. For that matter, he didn't look as if he'd profited by it. "How many of you were there?"

"They're the lucky ones," he said sourly. "Dead and over with. Gods above, what chance did we have—"

"Chance?" rumbled Mal, coming back to confront him. "About the chance you gave Eris at her farm, I suppose. Poor, eh? You think we're all rich?"

The prisoner closed his eyes briefly. "I don't—dammit, man, I never thought to be a robber. Not back when I—I had land once myself. A few cattle, enough. If I hadn't come here—"

"What about 'here'?" asked Arvid, who had come up softly behind Paks. "What's so special here?"

"I—" The man seemed to choke, shook his head, and said no more. Paks pushed herself up. All of her group could travel as they were; of the brigands, four that might live could not walk. Those whose wounds were mortal she despatched herself, not trusting the others to give a clean deathstroke. But she told the others to gather the weaponry, such as it was: she had always hated stripping bodies, and had avoided it most of the time. She had the yeomen supervise the prisoners in making litters for those who could not walk.

"Paks, what about those that got away?" Mal swung his bloody axe slowly in his hand.

"We'll have to track them. They're all wounded." Paks sighed. "I don't know how many—"

"I thought four or five. There's a couple down there still—" He jerked his head toward the slope.

"I'd better go—"

"No. You stay here—I'll take Doryan. You don't need him here." Paks started to protest, but thought better of it. She was sure Mal was trustworthy.

He had just started down the hill when five horsemen broke from the woods on the south side of the keep. Paks saw a flurry of motion in the bushes near them, and then four of the horsemen charged, driving out the remnant of the robbers. That was over in a few seconds. Zinthys rode across the slope to greet her.

"Well done, Lady Paksenarrion," he said cheerfully. "Sir Felis will be pleased."

"You too. That was a real show, that—" Paks stopped short, wondering if she should reveal his work as illusion. Zinthys grinned at her confusion, and spoke up.

"Most people find a fireblast alarming," he said casually. "I sent the rest of the troops back when we found the main keep empty—you seemed to have everything well in hand back here."