“Captain, what’s happened?” Devlin asked.

“Brigands,” Arcolin said, waving at the bodies on the ground. “Six of them attacked these travelers and me.”

“He came back to help us,” one of the men said. “Without him—”

Devlin looked at Arcolin, then pointedly at Arcolin’s mount with the helmet still hooked to the saddle. Arcolin grinned and shook his head. “No time,” he said. “This woman’s got a broken leg; she needs a physician. We’re a glass or less from Valdaire: ride in, tell the city guard what happened, and ask for a cart for them—”

“We don’t have money for a cart,” the man said.

“You’re still in Valdaire’s domain,” Arcolin said. “You can call on them for aid, since they haven’t cleared out those brigands.” To Devlin he said, “I’ll stay here until you return, then have you stay while I ride on to the cohort. I know they’ll be worried, but we can’t leave this party unprotected. If the caravan will lend me a few guards when they get this far, I’ll go ahead then.”

“At once, Captain,” Devlin said. He rode off at a canter. Arcolin unhooked his helmet, felt the slight dent where the sword had struck, felt inside—no change in the liner—and put it on. He checked the man who’d lost an arm—dead already from blood loss—and the two the travelers had downed. One still lived, unconscious; Arcolin finished him. Technically, he was due a bounty for proven brigands killed within the city’s outbounds, but he had no need for it, and these travelers did. He explained it to them.

“I don’t know what the current rate is, but I know the bounty’s still in effect.”

“But you killed some of them—”

“I have pay,” Arcolin said.

Before Devlin returned, the caravan appeared, trundling slowly along the road. Arcolin jumped the ditch with his mount again, and waited for them. They did not slow at first, but the caravan master climbed off the first wagon to speak to Arcolin.

“What is it? Someone in your colors rode by telling us there was danger ahead.”

“Brigands here—that party there has an injured woman, and we killed four of them—two got away into the woods.”

“So we keep moving and warn others, eh?”

“Yes, but I want to hire a couple of your guards to ward those travelers until the city sends a cart out for her. I need to go ahead and tell the cohort why I was delayed.”

The caravan master chewed his lips a moment. “Well. You are Phelan’s captain and you did give us warning. I can let you have two, but they must follow as soon as others come to help. And it will cost you a nata each.”

“Here.” Arcolin dug into his saddlebags and handed the man two natas.

“Jori! Baltis! Come down here.” Two guards slithered down from the loads atop their wagons. “These are good men,” the caravan master said, as they approached. “Four years with me on the road, and Jori knows wound care, as well.” He turned to them. “Stay and guard those people until help comes,” the caravan master said. “They fought off a brigand attack; there might be more.”