“This is it, then: Count Szurke, or Lord Taltos, if you prefer, was not merely injured; he was attacked.”
“Attacked!”
“Exactly. And it would be irresponsible of me to permit anyone to see him before assuring myself that, by doing so, I was not subjecting him to any danger.”
“I understand completely, Captain, and, moreover, I compliment you on your attention to your duty.”
“You are gracious, my lady.”
“For my part, I will give my sword into your keeping, and, moreover, swear to you by my hopes of Deathgate that I mean no harm to Lord Taltos, but, on the contrary, desire nothing more than his swift recovery to full health.”
As she spoke, she unbuckled her sword belt and placed it into Khaavren’s hand. Khaavren, hearing her words, bowed and said, “My lady, that is more than sufficient. Come, I will escort you to his room.”
When they reached the room, Khaavren gave a perfunctory clap, then opened the door and stepped back, bowing slightly to indicate the Issola should proceed him. As she stepped into the room, Khaavren, whose sharp eyes missed nothing, carefully observed the expression that came over the Easterner’s countenance, and the captain had no doubt that this expression was one of intense pleasure. Indeed, Count Szurke, in spite of his weakness, smiled and attempted to sit up.
Lady Saruchka rushed to him as he collapsed back onto the bed, and Khaavren, close on her heels, heard the Easterner say, “Ah, my lady, you ought not to have come here.”
“What nonsense you speak, to be sure.” She then turned to the captain and said, “You now perceive that I am no threat to his welfare; may I request a few moments alone with him?”
Khaavren bowed and said, “I have no objection to this plan.”
“You have my thanks, good Captain.”
With this said, Khaavren bowed and left the room. After some consideration, he decided against listening at the door, and so instead he placed Lady Saruchka’s weapon in Erbaad’s hands with instructions that it was to be returned when the Issola left. This done, he instructed Ensign Shirip to have a horse prepared for him. Shirip neither made a comment nor asked a question, but simply did as ordered, with the result that in five minutes Khaavren was mounted and riding northward.
After an hour of riding, he found the place where the Easterner had washed up, and he spent some time studying the river, noticing the flow of the currents and the effect of the sandbar. He decided, as a result of this study, that it was more likely that the Easterner had entered the river on this, the west bank (which was, in point of fact, south), than that he had survived crossing the entire river. This was fortunate, as it would have been an hour’s ride to the nearest bridge, and there was neither horse nor man ever born who could cross the river this close to its mouth.
Having come to this conclusion, he led his horse (a roan gelding of the Egyeslab breed) northward (actually westward) along the bank, his sharp eyes missing nothing. After a quarter of a mile, he stopped and, nodding to himself, tied up his horse and began a minute inspection of the ground. He was still engaged in this activity when night came on, making its gentle way across the muddy expanse of the river; but instead of stopping, he lit the lantern with which he had supplied himself before setting out, and continued.
Eventually he decided that he had learned all that he could, and so he extinguished the lantern, mounted his long-suffering horse, and rode back to the headquarters building where Shirip was still on duty, having determined that she would remain so until certain that the captain had no further need of her services.
In the event, it was well done, because conversation with her was exactly what Khaavren wished when he returned. He began this conversation himself, by saying, “Is there any change in our patient?”
“The physicker last inspected him three hours ago, shortly after the Issola left, and determined that he would almost certainly live.”
“So much the better. I have made an inspection of the ground where the fight took place.”
“And did you learn anything, Captain?”
“You mean, beyond confirming what we already suspected: that our Easterner lies like a Yendi? Yes, I have. Or, at any rate, I have formed certain conclusions, which I will test by speaking again with Count Szurke in hopes that he will either admit to the truth of what I tell him, or will, by some mannerism, betray himself if he lies in denial.”
“May I do myself the honor of complimenting the captain on this plan?”
“Then, you think it a good one, Ensign? You perceive I ask your opinion.”
“I do, for which compliment I thank you. Yes, it seems to me a good plan if you acquired reliable knowledge, and I am certain that you have.”
“You will judge for yourself. I had suspected there were four or five attackers. In this, I was wrong.”
“How, wrong?”
“In fact, the number was nine.”
“Nine!”
“Yes, there were nine. It was easy to determine, as the ground was soft and, before the altercation began, all nine were lined up facing him, and he, with his back to the river, faced them. They remained this way for some time, no doubt having conversation, because the impression of his boots had time to settle deeply, and he stood as one will when having conversation, rather than assuming any sort of defensive position.”
“And yet, nine!”
“There are reasons why he survived against nine opponents. That is to say, reasons beyond simply his skill, which is not inconsiderable.”
“But, what reasons?”
“For one, he had help of some sort.”
“Of some sort, Captain?”
“Not human.”
“I do not understand.”
“Nor do I, Ensign. Yet there were unmistakable signs that at least two of his attackers were engaged in some sort of combat nowhere near Count Szurke. And yet, there were no footprints near these two except their own. It is possible that he is a skilled illusionist, and so two of his opponents were engaged with phantoms. It is also possible he was able to summon or control birds, and used these against his enemies. There was no blood near either of these places, and yet a considerable number of leaves and twigs had been cut from the trees, as if the attackers were swinging their swords wildly over their heads.”
“And yet, Captain, that still leaves seven.”
“As I read the signs, one of them was removed from combat in the first instant after speech ended, by either a thrown knife or a sorcerous attack of some kind, because there are signs that one of those facing the Easterner fell to her knees and remained in that position for some time, after which she collapsed to the ground, where she remained, bleeding, until after the battle, when she was assisted from the field by two of her comrades.”
“I see. But that still leaves six.”
“One of whom was killed at the first pass. His body fell in such a position that it was in everyone’s way for the rest of the battle, and there was so much blood lost that no one could have survived.”
“So, then, there were five remaining. Still—”
“As I read the signs, he had wounded two of them almost at once. It is almost as if—”
“Yes, Captain?”
“As if he attacked them, rather than receiving the charge. But that is impossible because, ah, yes, I think I know what happened. For now, what is important is that, when it came to combat, it was three against one. Each of them wounded him at least once. They pressed him hard, back toward the river, until he was so severely wounded that he threw himself into it and chanced to luck, being unable to continue the contest.”