"You worry about the precedent, friend," Geoffrey advised, "and let me worry about Quicksilver."
Alain flashed him a smile. "She is worth the worrying, I warrant you."
"I shall need some sort of warrant, that is sure," Geoffrey said, with a sardonic smile, "though one for her death is not quite the sort I wish." He sighed. "Even if she had been wrong in everything she had done, Alain, surely this battle would have earned her some clemency."
"Putting down a band of vicious outlaws, and saving a village? Aye, and if we add to that her muzzling of the outlaw bands in her forest, I think we may say there is grounds for clemency indeed. That does not mean, though, that she can be exempted from punishment entirely."
"But that the punishment might be crafted to fit the crime?"
Alain gave him a slow smile. "Why, what a fascinating thought! But come, my wounds are bound. Take off your doublet." .
"Oh, if I must," Geoffrey grumbled, and they changed places.
Quicksilver held the groaning bandit up with one hand while she took the roll of bandage from Cordelia at the man's right-hand side, unrolled it across his back, and passed it to Cordelia on the left. "That is a most handsome man on whom you have cast the band of betrothal, Lady Cordelia."
Cordelia smiled, trying not to appear smug. "He is indeed, Chieftain Quicksilver."
"There is something of the prig about him, though." Cordelia looked up in surprise, then decided not to take offense. Instead, she gave Quicksilver a slow smile. "Leave that to me."
"I have no wish to do otherwise," the bandit chief told her. "Indeed, your brother is trouble enough for me."
"Trouble, because you must escape him?" Cordelia asked softly. "Or because you do not wish to?"
"'Tis unkind of you to say it," Quicksilver snapped, then looked up at her with a sudden, naked forlornness. "Besides, both are part of one problem, are they not?"
Cordelia stared at her, surprised, then managed a reassuring smile. "Problems are for solving, Chieftain. Come, this man is bound—let us go to another."
Quicksilver lowered the bandaged man, ignoring his groan, and stood up, turning to survey the wounded. "That one, I think."
They knelt by a man with a huge gash in his thigh—but even as they did, he surged up, a dagger stabbing toward Quicksilver's stomach as he screamed, "Die, unnatural woman!"
Quicksilver caught his wrist, pushing it aside and twisting. The man screamed and fainted. "So much the better," the bandit chieftain said through tight lips. "They are easier to doctor when they feel no pain."
"Water before unguent." Cordelia began to wash out the wound. "Pay his words no heed, damsel. The woman who fends a man off is all the more woman for that."
"And what could make a bandit chieftain a woman?" Quicksilver demanded.
"Why, a man who is worth respecting," Cordelia answered, taking out the jar of unguent, "but only if he arouses in you a desire to not fend him off."
Quicksilver was silent a moment, then said, with an edge to her voice, "You think your brother is such a one, do you not?"
"Many women have thought so in the past." Cordelia watched Quicksilver out of the corner of her eye, knowing the barb would hurt, but also knowing the woman had to be warned. "Even so, he is good-hearted withal, and would never force a woman nor do anything to cause any good person pain, if he could help it."
"There is that in him," Quicksilver acknowledged, "but what good is it, if he is likely to go chasing off after every lightskirt he sees?"
"True," Cordelia sighed. "I long for him to meet a woman who so fascinates him that he shall have no wish to go chasing again." She waited a moment, still watching Quicksilver out of the corner of her eye, then said, "But I fear that no such woman exists, since to hold him, she would have to be as engrossed in the study of warfare as he is—for those are the only two real interests in his life."
Quicksilver looked up, suddenly alert, then frowned. "What two? War, and what else?"
"Women," Cordelia replied.
Quicksilver thought that one over for a time, then said, "Can he love?"
"Oh, yes," Cordelia said softly. "We were all reared in a very loving home, mind you, and half of what ails him is yearning to give love, but finding no woman who is trustworthy."
"None trustworthy?" Quicksilver looked up sharply. "Why, how mean you?"
"He has never met a woman who wanted him for himself alone," Cordelia said simply. "Every wench who has crossed his path has wanted rank and wealth from him—has wanted the High Warlock's son, not Geoffrey alone."
Quicksilver developed a very thoughtful look.
"It is for that reason that he has taken what they offer, I think," Cordelia said, "for it is even as they have sought to do to him ... Well, this one is salved. Give me the bandage."
When they were done doctoring the worst cases, they came back to find Alain rubbing salve into a gash in Geoffrey's chest.
"Why, what a botch is this!" Quicksilver cried in anger. "Step aside, sir, and leave that to me!"
Alain sprang aside a second before she elbowed him out of the way. He looked up at Cordelia in outrage—but his fiancee only smiled, and gave him the smallest of nods. Alain turned back to watch Quicksilver with a thoughtful look.
Her face was rigid as she rubbed salve into Geoffrey's massive pectoral, and her hand trembled ever so slightly.
But when she had finished winding the bandage about his chest, steadfastly avoiding the glow of his eyes as he watched her (well, she sneaked a couple of quick glances, but as quickly looked away again), she stood up, tossed him his tunic, and stepped back, drawing her sword.
Suddenly, Minerva was at her side, there were Amazons all about her, and her brothers stepped up, with fifty bandits behind them.
"The battle is done, sir, and the wounded bandaged," Quicksilver said. "Wherefore should I not leave you here, and go back with my band to defy you at Castle Laeg?"
Alain stared, appalled, and Cordelia developed a look of dread—but Geoffrey only pulled on his tunic and emerged from it smiling. "Why," he said, "because you would rather defy me right here, and right now."
Quicksilver just stood there, her sword raised on guard, staring at him for half a minute. Then she nodded. "You are right—I would. Take up your sword."
CHAPTER 11
Geoffrey grinned and reached for his sword.
"Nay!" Cordelia stepped in front of him, hands outspread to shield her brother.
Geoffrey colored. "Cordelia, I scarcely need..."
"Oh, do you not?" Quicksilver grinned with delight. "Must the parfit gentil knight be protected by his slender sister? What fun!"
"It has nothing to do with him," Cordelia retorted, "and everything to do with the welfare of your people. Care you naught about your men and women?"
"Leave our welfare to ourselves," Minerva snapped. But Quicksilver frowned. "This is the trap your brother used, to tempt me into single combat and captivity! Do you think I will fall into it again?"
"Yes," said Cordelia, "because it is still true. Be mindful, damsel, that if you and your band fight Geoffrey now, I shall fight by his side, as shall my betrothed."
Alain grinned and drummed his fingers on his sword hilt.
"Do you think I fear you?" Quicksilver sneered. "Even the three of you together?"
"You should." Cordelia pointed at Quicksilver's sword, and it twisted itself out of her hands. She shouted in anger, then turned to glare at Cordelia.