Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,118

his hand out. No nothing but a huge headache. I was unconscious. And in shock.” Sucking energy off the priest, he was becoming manic.

He saw flickers of a will to believe.

Hecht definitely preferred his current situation to the one that had obtained a short while earlier. But his resurrection was sure to complicate life.

Titus Consent, shivering, said, “We did get the assassins.”

“What? Plural?”

“A pair. Lovers, I think. We haven’t done anything with them. Except lock them up.”

“Separately, I hope. I’ll want to see them when I’m stronger. Priest. Do your sorcery on this wound. Who took the arrow out?”

“That would be me, boss,” Hagan Brokke said. Brokke was one of the men with lesser wounds.

“Thank you. You kept the arrow?”

“It’s in pieces. But yes.”

“Good. I want the arrowhead. For a memento. For God’s sake, priest! I won’t break. I just survived an arrow that went right … Oh! That hurt. The prisoners have anything to say?”

“Not yet,” Titus replied. “They will.”

“No torture. Just keep them alone, in the dark. Let their imaginations wear them down. Ah! Back off, Clej. He’s doing his job.”

A subaltern came to the door. Sedlakova let him in. He made his report. And saw his commander being treated.

“Good on you, Clej,” when the boy left. “That should kill the craziest rumors. What did he say?”

“They want to know, downstairs, what to tell the people who keep turning up wanting news. He says the Empress and the Princess Apparent have been especially insistent.”

“Keep a log if you’re not already. Knowing who is concerned might be useful. How much longer, Brother?”

“Only a few minutes, sir. Then I’ll need to get you bandaged and to get your left arm immobilized.”

“Anything for pain? I’m starting to feel it.”

“I recommend inactivity. If you sit still and don’t put any strain on it the discomfort should be tolerable. If you don’t, enjoy the result.”

Hecht drew breath for an angry answer. Pain shot along the path the arrow had taken.

“Let nature do its work. Yours will get done without you. If you don’t take my advice you’ll suffer. And keep tearing it in there so it never heals right. And you end up losing use of the arm.”

“It will heal, though?”

“If you let it. I’ve given it the chance.” The healing brother bandaged Hecht slowly, letting everyone else see what needed doing and how it should be done. The dressing would have to be changed.

As he started to immobilize the arm, though, Hecht told him, “I need to get dressed first.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have to go out and show myself. To hearten some and dismay others.”

“Meaning you intend to ignore my advice already.”

“Just this once. It’s important.”

“Very well. And it will be important every time, won’t it? Fortunately, it isn’t Brother Rolf Hasty who has to pay the price. Though I’m sure he’ll hear a lot of whining about the arm not working right.” The healing brother refused to help Hecht dress.

Titus stepped in. “We’ll make sure it’s just this once, Brother.”

Hecht could not restrain a groan as Consent moved his arm to get a shirt on him. A fresh shirt. “You can cut it off when I get back out of it.”

Hagan Brokke presented the bloody scale shirt Hecht had worn when hit. He said, “You want this on, I’ll get it cleaned up.”

“I’ll do without. I couldn’t handle the weight. I’m beginning to get really sleepy, gentlemen.” He considered the mail shirt. “Didn’t slow the arrow down, did it?”

“Punched right through. The head was an armor piercer. For use at short range. Don’t see those used much by longbow archers.”

Minutes later Hecht was dressed and the healing brother had strapped his arm into place. Titus asked, “What now? Assemble the troops? It’s important. You told the healing brother.”

“Titus …” He found himself considering Piper Hecht with disdain. “No. I need a nap first. I have to face it. I won’t be able to stay awake. Have somebody trustworthy babysit me. All of you, get back to work. We’ve only got six months …”

He slept fourteen hours. Fitfully, if Titus was to be believed.

“Do I talk in my sleep?”

“No. You’re good about not doing that.” In a tone that set Hecht to wondering if Consent might not have tried to interrogate him.

“Where do we stand? The world didn’t end while I was snoring, did it?”

“It seems to have gotten on without you.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?”

“And it’s turned back normal since word that you survived got out.” Titus remained uneasy about that. “The Empress