“What was it? I . . . I had my sword through its belly, I swear I did, and then it put its hands around the bevoir of my suit and started to squeeze as if it were trying to throttle me through the metal, and I could feel the steel begin to buckle! I was holding it off with one hand against its face and stabbing it, and it chewed through the bison hide on the palm of my gauntlet!”

“That,” Tiphaine said, “was a High Seeker out of Corwin. You don’t really need the red robe to recognize them once they get into action; and if you kill them . . . well, you kill the man that was. But the . . . whatever . . . lingers, even stronger, for a few moments. Be flattered, my lord; the enemy have paid you a great compliment.”

Her face was glacier-calm; inwardly she was cursing herself for overconfidence. Her little trap had worked perfectly . . . against normal assassins. It had been only marginally acceptable at what had shown up, and that only because the main effort had happened to hit here. If the Seeker had come after her—

“The High King had a similar experience on his quest,” she said. “And Lady Juniper a little east of here, though she was better prepared.”

Then she looked at the palm, stopping the chirurgeon for a second. “This was a bite?”

“He’d have had the thumb off in another moment, but someone hit him on the head with a war hammer.”

“That would be what popped out the eye. Well, my lord, if you’re going to be taking my advice from now on, after it’s dressed I’d send for the Mother Superior.”

The doctor gave her an offended stare. She glanced back at him and he opened his mouth, closed it, finished his work and left with a deep bow to join the others working on the casualties.

Felipe’s face changed as he followed her thought.

No, he’s not a genius as a field commander, but he’s not stupid.

“My lady, my lord,” he said. “I think we need to consult.”