“We didn’t realize in time,” Tam said. “They had just this little light, and it was the shine of the sword that we saw, too late. Then they started arguing with each other, and we got to them.”

“Who yelled?” Arcolin said.

“This one,” Vik said, with a jerk of his head toward the camp. “We got the first one, but this one yelled, and then Tam hit him. Twice.”

“He didn’t hold still,” Tam said, scuffing one boot in the ashes. “And he still had his blade.”

“So,” Arcolin said, “in the morning I get to explain to the village headman that two of his friends were killed by brigands right under our noses?”

“Not right under, sir,” Vik said. “Way off there, where there’s that block of woods.”

“They might think their two stumbled on a brigand and killed him, after he wounded them, and then they died,” Tam said.

“The one with no head helping his friend stab the brigand, you mean?” Arcolin asked.

“He could’ve thrown a rock, before,” Tam said. His brow wrinkled. “See, he hears something—he throws a rock, it hits the brigand, who cuts off his head, and then his friend—”

“Without making a sound, manages to stab the brigand with his nonexistent sword while being stabbed. Of course. I’m sure the village will see it that way. I, on the other hand, am aware how easy it is to kill an unarmed peasant with any decent blade. I don’t suppose you brought it along?”

“Only one,” Tam said, producing it from behind his back. “We left only one brigand, so we could leave only one blade.”

The curved blade had a deadly elegance; Arcolin hefted it with care, not only for its edge but the stench of death on the blade. He handed it back to Tam. “See that it’s clean, and wrap it so no one gets cut. Then get some sleep, both of you.”

In his tent, Burek snored lightly, deeply asleep; Arcolin made his own notations on the map and in his log, then went out to walk the perimeter again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

At the change of watch, Arcolin told Burek what had happened.

“I slept through that?” Burek looked ashamed.

“No harm done,” Arcolin said. “I may sleep through the next little problem. Wake me if you need me.”

He woke to the smell of breakfast cooking. That meant it was near dawn or after; the tent wasn’t as dark as it had been. He had one boot on when Burek poked his head into the tent. “Sir—good, you’re awake—”

“What is it?”

“The man died, and I thought you should know before the villagers found him—”

“Found him?”

“And the scene, I mean. He died about midwatch, so I told off a squad to take the body back to where the fight was. I thought that way we didn’t have to explain why we had his body here.”