“We found him next to Corwin, knocked out cold,” Curran said. “Apparently he jumped into the fight for Derek, but he won’t tell me why.”

“Untie him,” I said.

Curran looked at me. “He has trouble controlling himself.”

“Untie him,” I repeated. “You shouldn’t keep a Crusader of the Order tied up in your infirmary, Curran.”

A tortured noise came from Corwin’s bed, the hoarse painful yowling of an animal in agony. For a moment Curran looked like he would pound his fist into the wall, but the slip lasted a mere breath and the calm expression reasserted itself on his face.

“Get him to behave,” Curran said,” and I’ll untie him.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed. The Crusader’s gaze had a touch of insanity to it. All Crusaders were crazy. It was in their job description. If at this moment, he broke free of his restraints, he would try to kill everyone in the room.

“I know who the upir is,” I told the Crusader. “I know what he wants.” The Crusader’s eyes fixed on me. Once he looked at you, really looked you in the eyes, you started to sweat, your muscles tensed, and you knew you had only two options: fight or flight. He wasn’t giving me his hard stare now. He was listening. “The upir can’t stay away,” I said. “Soon he’ll come here and then I’ll fight him.” I pointed to Curran. “So will he. While Curran and I are fighting and bleeding, a man will be lying here, tied to the bed because he was too stubborn to compromise.”

The Crusader spoke. “They took my weapons.”

Curran nodded. “He can have them back if he promises not to assault my people. And to stay in Keep. I can’t have him running around, fucking shit up right now. He cooperates or he stays tied to the bed.”

I looked to the Crusader. The madness flared in his eyes and died. “Agreed,” he said.

I took a knife from my belt and sawed through the restraints securing his arms. The Crusader sat up, rubbing his wrists. I offered him the knife and he cut the bonds on his ankles.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Nick,” he said. He wore the Pack’s trademark sweats and smelled clean.

I looked to Curran. “Did you force him to bathe?”

“We dipped him,” Curran said. “He had lice.”

“My weapons,” Nick said.

Curran motioned us to follow and we did. He led us out of the room to the hallway, down the corridor, and to a small room. “I have to go,” he told me, his hand on the door handle. He turned to Nick and the two men locked stares, sizing each other up. “Stay put,” Curran said.

“He will,” I told him. The Crusaders were insane, but they were still Knights of the Order. Their word was binding.