“There’s steel in there, all right,” he said, pulling a leather pouch from his saddlebag. “The sooner we get it out, the better. Royston, can you borrow a horse?”

“We have nae horse,” Royston whispered. He watched wide-eyed as the man slung a water skin over his shoulder and returned. “Could—could we nae carry him home on one o’ yours? It’s nae far tae me mother’s house, I promise.”

He glanced anxiously at both men as the darker one knelt across from him again, but this time it was the blond man who spoke.

“I’m sorry, but we haven’t time. Can you get a donkey? A mule? A cart would be even better.”

Royston’s eyes lit up. “Aye, a donkey. Smalf the Miller has one he’d let me borrow. I can be back before it’s full dark.”

He scrambled to his feet and started to move off, then paused and turned to peer down at the two men once more, his eyes sweeping over the falcon cloaks with admiration.

“Ye be the Lord Warin’s men,” he said softly. “I’ll bet yer on a special mission for the Lord himself, and that’s why ye cannae tarry long. Have I guessed rightly?”

The two men exchanged glances, the darker one stiffening slightly, but then the blond man smiled and reached up to slap Royston’s arm conspiratorially.

“Yes, I’m afraid you have guessed rightly,” he said in a low voice. “But don’t tell anyone. Just go and get that donkey, and we’ll take care of your friend.”

“Mal?”

“Go, lad. I’ll be all right. These men be brothers. They be on the Lord Warin’s business. Now, scat.”

“Aye, Mal.”

As the boy hurried out of sight down the road, the darker man opened his leather pouch and began removing bandages and instruments. Mal tried to raise his head slightly to see what he was doing, but the blond man pushed his head gently back to the ground and supported it there before he could get a good look. He felt a cool, wet sensation as the other man began washing away the caked blood on his leg, and then a faint ache as the tourniquet was tightened ever so slightly. The blond man shifted on his haunches and glanced at the sky.

“Do you want more light? I can make a torch.”

“Do,” the second man said with a nod. “And then I’ll need your assistance. It’s going to take both of us to keep him from bleeding to death.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The blond man nodded at Mal reassuringly, then got to his feet and began rummaging in the bushes near Mal’s head. Mal twisted around and watched in silence for several seconds, wondering how the man planned to get a torch burning out here, then glanced back at the man who was working on his leg. He winced as the man prodded the wound and accidentally jarred the steel, then coughed weakly and tried to clear his throat.