“I didn’t even know you carried that little stick,” Cort said to Dirk.
“Neither did he.” Dirk stretched the Hawk sergeant on the ground in front of Cort.
“Tie down his wrists and ankles,” Cort directed, and soldiers stepped up to drive pegs into the ground, then bind the Hawk’s joints. They weren’t very gentle about it, but considering the ambush they’d lived through and their comrades who hadn’t, that wasn’t much of a surprise.
Gar took a canteen from the nearest soldier and sloshed water into the Hawk’s face. The sergeant spluttered, coming to.
Cort glared down at the man. “Torturing another mercenary is against the code of the Free Companies, fellow, but I’m minded to try it, anyway. After all, your band have broken the rules of war already.”
“No, we haven’t!” the sergeant protested.
“Oh, really? When did the code change to allow one band to ambush another before they’ve begun to march?”
“Uh, by your leave, lieutenant.” Gar stepped away from the captive. “Could I have a word with you?”
Cort frowned. “What is it that you don’t want this Hawk to hear?” But he stepped aside with Gar anyway.
“Breaking rules is a bad business,” Gar explained, “especially if you don’t know for sure that the other side has broken them first.”
“But we do!”
“No, lieutenant, we’ve only guessed it. Besides, even if they broke a rule, then if you break another rule to get back at them, they’ll break a third rule, and the first thing you know, everyone will be breaking every rule, and every code will be broken.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” Cort scowled. “The Free Companies would kill each other off in a fortnight.”
“Exactly. May I offer an alternative?”
“Speak,” Cort allowed.
“Instead of torture or execution, let’s capture the Hawk captain and bring him before a tribunal of other mercenary captains. If they think he’s broken the rules, let them decide what to do with him.”
Cort’s eyes lit, intrigued. “A fascinating idea! But how do you suggest we capture a captain in the midst of his company?”
“Watch and catch him when he’s away from his company. Is there anything in the code against that?”
“No, but only because no one’s ever thought of it, I suspect.” Cort grinned. “That might do, indeed. I’ll ask Captain Devers about it when we get back, and if he allows it, we’ll send out a reconnaissance party. You’ll volunteer, of course.”
“It will be an honor.” Gar inclined his head. “In the meantime, tell me what you want to know, and I’ll see if I can’t persuade this sergeant to tell us without the thumbscrews. I might threaten them, you understand…”
Cort’s grin widened. “Go right ahead. If you can trick him into telling us why they attacked us and who hired their company to do it, I’ll be very happy to let him go unscathed.”
“No ransom?”
Cort shrugged. “You can’t get much for a sergeant.”
“Very flattering,” Sergeant Gar Pike said with a wry grimace. “Well, we’ll see what we can do with the man.”
They went back to the staked-out sergeant. Dirk was standing over him, loudly arguing with Sergeant Otto. “Look, we’re civilized soldiers! Let’s not be crude about this! Tie him under a drip of water so that it hits him square on the head, and watch him go crazy!”
Otto shook his head, truculent and stubborn. “We haven’t got that kind of time. A good oldfashioned beating’s best, I say. Quick and clean, it is.”
“Yeah, but he can’t talk with his jaw broken and his mouth all—”
“Gentlemen, if you don’t mind?” Gar said, with withering sarcasm.
“Huh?” Dirk looked up, frowning. “Oh, you want a shot at him? Well, go ahead—we can’t agree on where to start.”
“If you’d stand a little farther off?” Gar suggested. “I do need room to sit down by him, after all.”
“Oh, all right.” Dirk huffed, and stepped a few yards away, saying, “Now, I’ve heard of a technique that’s supposed to work a lot faster. We take Gar’s camp cot and put the sergeant on it, and if he doesn’t fit…”
“Pay no attention to them,” Gar said as he knelt by the captive sergeant. “Dirk always thinks torture is the fastest way to get information out of a prisoner. Myself, I’d prefer to ask him first.”
Dirk took his cue. “Torture him! Okay, we’ll let Sergeant Otto beat him up a little bit for starters. Then you can have my pair of monogrammed thumbscrews, and I’ll take out the cat-o’-nine-tails.”
“He’s so hasty,” Gar sighed, “just because your infantry jumped our platoon, and when we fought them off, sent you and your cavalry to hunt us down. I have to admit that wasn’t very sporting of you, but you’re just taking orders, aren’t you? It scarcely deserves torture.”
“No, it doesn’t.” The Hawk sergeant was sweating now, glancing at Dirk.
“Myself, I maintain that you had to do your best to carry out your orders, so it was nothing personal. Would I be right?”
“Oh, yes!” The sergeant nodded vigorously. “Just doing my job, that’s all.”
“As we were only doing ours,” Gar agreed. “But my friend says you’ve broken the mercenary’s code, attacking us before we met on the battlefield, simply because you knew our company had been hired to fight yours.”
“The iron boot,” Dirk called.
“Not a word of truth in it!” the sergeant said. “We were hired to kill you, that’s all! Open and aboveboard, nothing against the rules at all.”
Gar exchanged a startled glance with Dirk, then turned back. “No, just doing the job your company was hired for,” he said slowly, “and certainly nothing wrong for you in telling us that. There’s nothing secret about it, is there?”
“Not after our first attack, no.”
“Of course not. Tell me, since it’s open knowledge now—when you say you were hired to kill us, did that mean our whole platoon?”
“Oh, no! Just you, the big one! Not even your friend there.” The sergeant took a deep breath. “How did the two of you manage to beat the whole lot of us, anyway?”
“Magic,” Gar told him. Cort stared at him.
The sergeant scowled. “No such thing as magic.” Gar nodded with approval. “An educated man, I see. What if I told you I was a sage with great powers stemming from meditation?”
“I’ve heard of it,” the sergeant allowed. “Never believed a word of it, myself.”
“I suppose not,” Gar sighed. “Well, then, you’ll have to put it down to practice, constant practice.”
“We always need new targets to practice on,” Cort added.
The sergeant’s eyes bulged.
“Tell me,” Gar said softly, “who hired you.”
“It was the steward!” the sergeant said. “The steward of the Boss of Loutre! Why his boss wants you dead, I don’t know, but he paid for the whole company to kill you.”
Gar knelt very still. Dirk, not knowing what the sergeant had said, called out, “Can I light the fire for the branding iron now?”
“Not just yet, I think,” Gar called back. Then, to the sergeant, “That must have cost a great deal of money—a compliment, in its way. Are you paid by the day, or for the job?”
“For the job—five hundred golden marks for proof you’re dead. We thought it would only take a day or so, but you look as though you’re going to make it expensive.”
“Yes. You might lose on this one.” Gar sighed. “Nothing personal, of course.”