and then get back to his feet.
Focus on the immediate need. Prioritize!
“Not one of us!” one of the Boise men called. “Bastard wasn’t in our platoon! Just turned up and said he was switching sides too, on his own.”
Ogier stepped forward and indicated the curved dagger with the toe of his steel sabaton. It was fine work, with a rippling watermarked pattern wrought into the blade, and the pommel was a ball engraved with the shape of a rayed sun.
“Hand of the Prophet,” he said. “Kill-dagger. Those sons of whores operate in threes.”
The prisoner who’d spoken before did again: “He was alone. We haven’t seen any others.”
“Then they may turn up. Or you could be lying.” He shook his head and went on to the deserters: “I’m afraid we
are
going to have to tie you and search you.”
In a harder voice, directed at his own followers, who were shuffling their feet:
“Search you again, only thoroughly this time.” Then he went on to the prisoners:
“This is a temporary measure, until we get you to Goldendale and sort out who’s who. That’s how the enemy operate, trying to destroy honest men’s trust in each other.”
One of his own men-at-arms bent to retrieve the assassin’s knife.
“I wouldn’t use my bare flesh on that, if I were you, Teófilo,” Ogier saiddryly. “It was consecrated to the service of Hell and the death-demons in Corwin, probably by the Prophet’s own hand.”
“¡Dios mío!”
the man blurted. “Thank you, my lord!”
He used a stick to push the knife onto a cloth, stuffed the bundle into a leather sack, and put that on a pack-mule. His comrades attended to binding the prisoners, and the knight turned to the squires.
“Good work, very good work,” he said. “Her Majesty will hear of it, and the Grand Constable, too, of course.”
“Lioncel did the work…killed him,” Huon said, suddenly feeling a little weak as he looked down at the dead Cutter, wrinkling his nose at the coppery metallic stink of blood. There was a lot of it in a man. “All I did was shoot him in one butt-cheek.”
Ogier laughed, and Lioncel gave a startled chortle. “I…just drew and stabbed,” he said, his voice wobbling a little.
“And jumped in front of me towards the danger, like Huon,” Ogier noted. “It’s when he’s surprised that a man shows his real instincts, or his training, or both. My lord my father told me that once and I’ve never forgotten it.”
Huon looked down at the dead assassin; the arrow
had
gone in over the hip-bone and then down through one buttock. The red point stood out just where it joined the upper thigh. He didn’t pull a very heavy bow, but flesh was so…
Tender
, Huon thought uneasily.
“And you can truly say that this is now a thoroughly
half-assed
assassin,” Lioncel said.
Something unknotted in Huon’s gut as he joined in the laughter.
CHAPTER THREE
C OUNTY OF A UREA
(F ORMERLY CENTRAL W ASHINGTON )
H IGH K INGDOM OF M ONTIVAL
(F ORMERLY WESTERN N ORTH A MERICA )
O CTOBER 30 TH , C HANGE Y EAR 25/2023 AD
“W as that your first?” Huon asked an hour later; he thought the younger boy wanted to talk.
Lioncel shook his head. “No…they, assassins like that, tried to kill my lady the Grand Constable in Walla Walla a few months ago, the very same day I’d been made squire. And the Count, and my lord my father, all on the same night.”
He stiffened with unconscious pride: “But my lady was ready for them! We were waiting!”
Maybe because she used to be an assassin herself,
Huon thought; he wasn’t sorry that she
had
been ready, though.
That would have been a disaster for our cause, to lose the commanders in the County Palatine just as the invaders came west.
Lioncel went on: “I shot one of them with my crossbow then, in the apartments my lady was using, and I had to give him the mercy-stroke. And…I think since, during the fighting, but I’m not sure. But that’s not…so close, mostly. You shoot, or someone
Focus on the immediate need. Prioritize!
“Not one of us!” one of the Boise men called. “Bastard wasn’t in our platoon! Just turned up and said he was switching sides too, on his own.”
Ogier stepped forward and indicated the curved dagger with the toe of his steel sabaton. It was fine work, with a rippling watermarked pattern wrought into the blade, and the pommel was a ball engraved with the shape of a rayed sun.
“Hand of the Prophet,” he said. “Kill-dagger. Those sons of whores operate in threes.”
The prisoner who’d spoken before did again: “He was alone. We haven’t seen any others.”
“Then they may turn up. Or you could be lying.” He shook his head and went on to the deserters: “I’m afraid we
are
going to have to tie you and search you.”
In a harder voice, directed at his own followers, who were shuffling their feet:
“Search you again, only thoroughly this time.” Then he went on to the prisoners:
“This is a temporary measure, until we get you to Goldendale and sort out who’s who. That’s how the enemy operate, trying to destroy honest men’s trust in each other.”
One of his own men-at-arms bent to retrieve the assassin’s knife.
“I wouldn’t use my bare flesh on that, if I were you, Teófilo,” Ogier saiddryly. “It was consecrated to the service of Hell and the death-demons in Corwin, probably by the Prophet’s own hand.”
“¡Dios mío!”
the man blurted. “Thank you, my lord!”
He used a stick to push the knife onto a cloth, stuffed the bundle into a leather sack, and put that on a pack-mule. His comrades attended to binding the prisoners, and the knight turned to the squires.
“Good work, very good work,” he said. “Her Majesty will hear of it, and the Grand Constable, too, of course.”
“Lioncel did the work…killed him,” Huon said, suddenly feeling a little weak as he looked down at the dead Cutter, wrinkling his nose at the coppery metallic stink of blood. There was a lot of it in a man. “All I did was shoot him in one butt-cheek.”
Ogier laughed, and Lioncel gave a startled chortle. “I…just drew and stabbed,” he said, his voice wobbling a little.
“And jumped in front of me towards the danger, like Huon,” Ogier noted. “It’s when he’s surprised that a man shows his real instincts, or his training, or both. My lord my father told me that once and I’ve never forgotten it.”
Huon looked down at the dead assassin; the arrow
had
gone in over the hip-bone and then down through one buttock. The red point stood out just where it joined the upper thigh. He didn’t pull a very heavy bow, but flesh was so…
Tender
, Huon thought uneasily.
“And you can truly say that this is now a thoroughly
half-assed
assassin,” Lioncel said.
Something unknotted in Huon’s gut as he joined in the laughter.
CHAPTER THREE
C OUNTY OF A UREA
(F ORMERLY CENTRAL W ASHINGTON )
H IGH K INGDOM OF M ONTIVAL
(F ORMERLY WESTERN N ORTH A MERICA )
O CTOBER 30 TH , C HANGE Y EAR 25/2023 AD
“W as that your first?” Huon asked an hour later; he thought the younger boy wanted to talk.
Lioncel shook his head. “No…they, assassins like that, tried to kill my lady the Grand Constable in Walla Walla a few months ago, the very same day I’d been made squire. And the Count, and my lord my father, all on the same night.”
He stiffened with unconscious pride: “But my lady was ready for them! We were waiting!”
Maybe because she used to be an assassin herself,
Huon thought; he wasn’t sorry that she
had
been ready, though.
That would have been a disaster for our cause, to lose the commanders in the County Palatine just as the invaders came west.
Lioncel went on: “I shot one of them with my crossbow then, in the apartments my lady was using, and I had to give him the mercy-stroke. And…I think since, during the fighting, but I’m not sure. But that’s not…so close, mostly. You shoot, or someone
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