“All’s well, winter-side, Sergeant,” he said. They each continued their respective circuit, meeting again at the camp entrance, sunsetting.

“A quiet night,” Devlin said. “But watchful, I think. Or maybe I’ve been away too long.”

“I threw two rocks in the water,” Arcolin said. “I’d like to hear a splash.”

As if in answer, a distant cry broke through the gentler night noises. When it cut off, not a sound came from frogs, insects, birds, for what seemed a long time, then something went “crrrrick … crrrrick …” again.

Stammel appeared out of the darkness. “Trouble?” he said to Arcolin.

“I don’t know yet.” They waited another while in silence, and then Arcolin said, “I hope that wasn’t one of ours—” He stopped abruptly as one of the horses stamped, then snorted. Then he heard the footsteps running this way and laboring breath.

Devlin, Stammel, and the sentries kindled more torches; Arcolin squinted into the gloom and could just make out something moving, coming nearer. He hoped it was his people, but he couldn’t yet tell.

Then they were panting up to the entrance, gasping the password, with a dark form trussed up in a Phelani cloak between them. “Stupid clods of dirt-grubbers.” That was Vik, the wiry redhead who had been one of Paks’s close friends. “If they’d just said what you told them—but they didn’t, and the brigands killed them before we could do anything.”

“And who’s this?” Arcolin asked. The bundle appeared to be breathing, or trying to.

“The live brigand,” Tam said. “We didn’t think he ought to go back and tell his friends that someone had attacked them out of the dark. Might be bad for the villagers.”

“And we thought you might want him,” Vik added, dropping his end of the prisoner with no concern for the prisoner’s welfare. “He must live on rocks; he weighs as much as a bullock.”

“Is he wounded?”

“A knock on the head is all,” Tam said. “He should live, I think, but it was dark.” Arcolin had his doubts. Tam’s fist had killed men before.

“He was breathing when we wrapped him up,” Vik said.

“Stammel, take charge of the prisoner. If he lives, we’ll see what he has to say when he wakes up. Devlin, check the perimeter again and let’s set an extra guard on the stock. Tam, Vik, come with me.”

Their report was brief and simple: The two men from the village had gone through the village and then out in the fields, where they’d met two other men. They’d been asked about the cohort; they’d first answered as Arcolin suggested, but when challenged, they’d elaborated.

“One of them said they weren’t afraid anymore, because you were going to get rid of all the bandits. The other threatened those two—it was ridiculous. There they are, no weapons, no reserve force, and they’re challenging men they must know have killed a dozen times, more.”

“I’m surprised they were killed quickly,” Arcolin said.

“The dead brigand had a temper,” Vik said. “Whipped out his sword—one of those curved ones from the coastal region—and had the head off the first man, so the second brigand ran the other one through.”