“Oh, they’re all...cooperating.” He sounded surprised. “We fed them, too, but the one guy passed out soon after you all were captured and hasn’t woken since. Did he sustain a head injury?”

Sustain? Perhaps there was more to this kid than I’d assumed. “Well, there was that big rescue attempt.” And Kerrick had been at the very end of his strength. But I didn’t want to let him know about Kerrick’s magic.

“Rescue attempt? Are you sure you don’t mean assassination plot?”

I studied him, seeking signs of hostility or duplicity. “Sepp’s death was pure serendipity, a bright spot in an otherwise failed rescue.”

“Oh.”

“Who’s in charge now?”

“Of the battalion?”

“Yes.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Horace.”

“Until the Skeleton King arrives?”

“Yes.”

Lovely. At least Sepp was gone. That was worth...well...pretty much everything as far as I was concerned.

“When will he be here?”

“That’s classified.”

“I should check on the unconscious man, just in case,” I said.

“That would be the LC’s decision.”

When I finished eating, I placed the bowl on the ground and scooted away. The young soldier gestured to the guards. “If you give them any trouble, they have orders to put gloves on you and secure your wrists behind your back.”

Good to know. “Will they read me a bedtime story?”

“No,” the guard on the left said.

The soldier scooped up my bowl and dashed off. Probably to report back to his commanding officer.

I didn’t get my bedtime story, but a woman delivered my bedroll and blanket. Other than that, not much happened. The next day on a trip to the privies, I noticed a fair amount of activity and soldiers buzzing about the camp.

Despite searching, I didn’t spot my friends or Kerrick. I considered tricking my guards and zapping them, Instead, I decided to make my escape in the middle of the night.

Of course, I imagined Kerrick and the others had already escaped with ease. They were probably all standing around the horses wondering what was taking me so long.

Early that afternoon, four female soldiers arrived to escort me to the bathing area. I had a meeting with, I guessed, the lieutenant colonel. They provided me with a clean uniform, but made me promise not to attack them if they unlocked the cuffs so I could wash myself.

For a bath, I’d have promised almost anything. Kerrick would understand. And this wasn’t a perfect opportunity for me to bolt, so I wasn’t breaking my promise to him. After washing in a nearby stream—the cold air and water ensured I didn’t linger—and changing, my skin tingled and I reveled in being clean.

With the manacles on, my wrists hadn’t healed all the way and the still raw flesh stung from the soap.

Unfortunately, the ladies recuffed my wrists.

“Orders,” one woman said when I grunted in pain.