“It’s not fair!” yelled Korryn. “It wasn’t my fault!” Even before Valichi’s command, one of the guards holding him had slugged him.
“—with conspiracy with Jens Hanokensson to prevent detection of this assault,” the captain went on, “and with lying to the witnesses called to take testimony in the case. All the evidence and testimony so far indicates that Korryn Maherit did assault and injure Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter, and did instruct Jens Hanokensson to warn him of the approach of any authority, and did attempt to instruct Corporal Stephi of Dorrin’s cohort, a veteran member of the Company, in a lie explaining the assault, while Corporal Stephi was temporarily unaware of his own actions, probably through the action of some drug or potion. We have no proof that Korryn Maherit supplied this drug or potion. Jens Hanokensson stands charged with conspiracy with Korryn Maherit to prevent detection of Korryn Maherit’s crimes. Both of these men have a bad record in the recruit cohort. The following sentences are imposed by me, as Duke Phelan’s lawful representative and cohort commander of recruits. For Jens Hanokensson: five strokes”—Jens moaned again; the guards holding him shook him—“a shaved head, and expulsion. For Korryn Maherit, the Duke’s brand on the forehead, forty strokes well-marked, and expulsion tinisi turin.” Korryn writhed, trying to break free from his guards. “Strip them,” said Valichi. Two of the guards by the platform came forward and ripped the recruit tunics from neck to hem, then turned the prisoners to face the formation. The guards forced Jens to his knees, and the one with the razor stepped up behind him. When he felt the first tug at his cinnamon-brown hair, he yelped and flinched.
“Hold still, ye fool,” said the guard. “If ye jerk around, I’ll cut ye.” Tufts of hair fell; Jens had shut his eyes and was rigidly still. The barber worked quickly and roughly; soon nothing was left of the thick hair and mustache. A few shallow grazes oozed blood on his scalp, which was pale above his tanned face. The guards hauled him up the platform to the posts and crossbar, and bound him to it, feet dangling. Then the guard with the whip mounted the platform behind him.
“One,” said Captain Valichi. The whip smacked against his back; Paks saw his face twist in pain. “Two.” Another smack. He gave a strangled cry. “Three. Four.” The captain paused. “Sergeant Stammel—do you want the parting blow?”
“No, sir. Not for this one.”
“Five.” The last blow fell. Jens’s screams softened into sobs as the guards untied his arms and dragged him from the platform. Paks could see the welts standing out on his back; only one was bleeding. The guards moved him away from the platform and held him facing the assembly.
It took four of the guards to hold Korryn as one of them took the brand from the brazier where it had been heating. Paks looked down. She didn’t want to see this. She could hear Korryn’s muttered curses, the scuffling feet, the hiss and sizzle as the brand etched his forehead. He gave a short cry, followed by gasping sobs. She glanced up for a moment. The guard with the razor was taking off his hair; Korryn’s face was white under its tan. The brand showed stark, a stylized foxhead. Without his hair and beard, his face looked different; he hardly had a chin. His eyes met hers; he snarled a curse at her, and the guards cuffed him. Paks stared over his head; she didn’t want him to think she could not watch.
The guards dragged him up the platform—still struggling to break free—and bound his wrists to the crossbar after removing his chains. Then they bound his ankles to bolts Paks had not noticed, and the guard with the razor stepped up to him. Korryn paled even more.
“What are you—?”
“Tinisi turin means shaved—all over—” said the guard, grinning. “Like a shorn lamb, remember?” And shortly the hair on chest, belly, and groin made a heap on the platform. When that guard was through, he stepped back, and the one carrying the whip came forward.
By the tenth stroke, Paks no longer cared what Korryn thought; she stared straight at the mess hall windows. No one had reminded her that she might have been on that platform, but she remembered well enough what Stammel had said when he first came to her cell. She loathed Korryn—would be glad to see him gone—but she could not watch. The blows went on—and on—each counted out by the captain’s calm voice. They sounded different now. Korryn sounded different too. She tried not to hear that, and lost the count. Suddenly it was very quiet. She looked up. Korryn hung from his bonds, head drooping; she could see the blood streaking his legs and staining the platform below.
“Well, Sergeant Stammel?” asked the captain.
“Yes, sir, with pleasure.” Stammel left his place and mounted the platform. The guard handed him the whip, now glistening along its length. Paks watched, fascinated and horrified, as he braced himself and gave Korryn five powerful blows. Korryn’s body jerked, and he gave a last scream and fainted. Stammel ran his hand down Korryn’s back and returned to his unit, holding his bloody hand out. He faced Paks, and touched it to her forehead as her eyes widened in shock.
“By this blood your injury is avenged,” he said, and took up his position again. Meanwhile one of the guards had taken a pot of blue dye, and was daubing it on Korryn’s back. Then he was untied, and lowered to the ground. His back and legs were covered with welts and blood; the blue stain looked ghastly mixed with blood. A guard checked his pulse.
“He’ll do,” he reported. “Cold water, sir?” The captain nodded. After several minutes, and a bucket of water, Korryn stirred and groaned. When his eyes opened, Captain Valichi nodded, and the guards pulled him to his feet and bound his hands in front of him. Jens, meanwhile, had been dressed in a nightshift, with a rope noose around his neck; his guards looked to the captain.
“Go ahead; take him out.”
“West, sir?” The captain nodded in answer, and the guards led Jens away. Korryn now had a rope around his neck too, and at the captain’s second nod, his guards tugged, forcing him forward. He could barely keep his feet. Paks looked away, stomach churning. She heard horses’ hooves behind the formation, near the gate, muttered voices. Then the hoofbeats moved away, through the gate, and the courtyard was left in silence.
Captain Valichi looked at them for a long moment. “Some of you,” he said with a grim smile, “seem impressed by what you saw—I hope you all are. The Duke will not tolerate anything that jeopardizes the strength of the Company. In a few months you will be depending on each other in battle. Each of you must be worthy of your companions’ trust, both on and off the field. If you aren’t, we’ll get rid of you. If you injure a companion, you’ll be punished. It may be that some of you don’t have the stomach for army life; if so, speak to your sergeant. We don’t want cowards. Sergeant Stammel, assign a detail from your unit to clean up this mess, and I’ll want to speak with Paksenarrion. The formation is dismissed.”
In the unit’s duty room, a few minutes later, Paks tried to act calm. “Sit down, Paksenarrion,” said Captain Valichi. She sat across the desk from him. Her stomach was a solid knot of apprehension. “Have you talked to any of your friends since this happened?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Paksenarrion, you have a good record, so far. This is the first trouble you’ve been in, and from the evidence none of it was your fault. Stammel did say that he thought you should confine your use of strong language to terms you knew the meaning of—though calling someone a jacks-hole full of soured witches’ milk—” Paks gasped and felt herself reddening; the captain smiled and went on, “—is not an excuse for an attack, it can cause trouble. Did you even know that was Pargunese? No? Well, stick to Common or whatever your native language is. Anyway, you’re blameless of the brawl itself. Now—you’ve been injured in the Company, though not, we think, permanently. If you wish to leave, you may. We will give you a recommendation, based on your record, and a pass through the Duke’s domain, and a small sum to tide you over until you reach home or find other employment. I can suggest several private guard companies that might hire you with our recommendation. You’ll be on light duty until you can see out of that eye again: you may have that long to make your decision—unless you are already determined to leave. Are you?”