"No sir."

He may have some skills, Macurdy told himself, but not much talent. "They're doing a lot better," he said. "Their auras show it."

The major said nothing, but his aura showed disbelief, whether of auras or the Sisters' better results wasn't apparent.

"I'm going to have them minister to the rest of the men."

The man looked stricken. "I-Marshal, Sisters can't be trusted!"

Macurdy laid a large hand on the major's shoulder. "You've had a hard day. When did you eat last?"

"I had an orderly bring me bread and meat at noon."

"Get something to eat, and walk around outdoors. Don't come back till tomorrow. That's an order."

The major looked near tears.

"You know about orders. Eat something and walk around camp. Look at something besides broken bodies. Have a drink, then get some sleep." He put a hand on the major's back, herding him along, and they left the building together.

It was Omara herself whom he took to see Melody. She'd tried before to see her, she told him, but a soldier had kept her out. "At your orders, Marshal. You distrust me. Why?"

"It's nothing personal," he said, and opened the door. Omara went to the bed and looked at the sleeping spear maiden for a long moment, examining her aura, he thought. "She doesn't need me," she told him. "By this time tomorrow she'll be largely recovered, though she should rest at least another day."

She looked at him coolly. "You are an enigma, Macurdy, a talented enigma."

"Enigma. That's a word I haven't met. But distrust now… I suppose Sarkia told you my experience with the Sisterhood. I like and respect you, Omara, but you'll excuse me if I have the colonel's guard refuse you entrance to this room except when I'm with you."

"Marshal, I have enough to do without troubling someone who doesn't need me."

They left Melody then, Omara going on to visit other patients. Macurdy paused outside Melody's door, talking with the man on guard, then left for supper. Sarkia never believed you'd get Varia back, he told himself, regardless of what she said. And you're the most powerful leader in the Rude Lands; she'd love to marry you to a Sister. If she thought Melody might stand in the way, or maybe even if Omara thought so…

He'd taken off his hillsman boots and was washing his socks when his Kullvordi orderly looked in. "Marshal, sir! Major Tarlok wants to see you! Says it's urgent!"

Tarlok was peering in over the man's shoulder. "What is it, Tarlok?"

"A bunch of Kormehri grabbed some local women. They were carrying them to their camp. I thought you should know."

Macurdy swore and pulled on his boots, not taking time for socks.

"You want me to get a company or two, in case there's trouble?"

"No. If I showed up with a bunch of men, there'd be trouble for sure. But you can come with me if you'd like."

He tied the laces around his ankles, belted on his saber, and left the tent at a trot, Tarlok with him. Both were unaccustomed to running, and Macurdy slowed before they got there so he wouldn't arrive gasping for breath. It was twilight, nearly dark, but he knew where in the Kormehri camp to go by the cheering, and found a crowd gathered on a company muster ground. He couldn't see what was going on-the circle was several men deep, most without their breeches-but he pushed through, Tarlok with him. A fire had been built in the middle for light. More than a dozen women and girls had been stripped, forced to hands and knees, and their wrists tied to stakes. All of them were occupied. He didn't hesitate, but strode to the nearest man, grabbed him by the hair and jerked him backward. The crowd went still, all but the man he'd interrupted, who scrambled to his feet swearing vividly. To find a saber tip at his solar plexus.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Macurdy bellowed, and abruptly, with a backhanded wrist movement, slapped the side of the man's face with the flat of his blade. The man stepped back, hand to cheek, aware now whom he faced, and that he'd been only a turn of the wrist from death. The other rapists had dismounted and backed away, staring with varying degrees of anger and fear. Macurdy and Tarlok strode around the circle cutting ropes, freeing the women.

Macurdy straightened and looked around. "Where are their clothes?"

The company commander stepped into the circle then. He wore no breeches, but his sword was in his hand. "This is my company!" he shouted. "What goes on here is none of your business!"

The place was doubly still now. Macurdy walked slowly toward him. "Do you challenge me, you dog turd?"

The Kormehri took half a step backward before he realized what he was doing, then with an oath, rushed at Macurdy. Their blades met violently-and the Kormehri's snapped. Macurdy thrust him through and let him fall.

The crowd remained quiet as Quakers. "What company is this?" Macurdy shouted.

"Barlin's Company," someone answered.

"Barlin's Company fall in!" he ordered.

Most of the men moved as if to form ranks. But not all, and a sergeant drew his sword. "You might kill one of us, you Ozian pig," he shouted, "but you can't-"

He stopped in midsentence. Macurdy said nothing, simply stalked toward him, drilling him with his eyes-and just off the tip of his saber was a ball of white fire the size of an egg. The man stared at it transfixed, and screamed when Macurdy thrust him through.

"Barlin's Company, fall in!" Macurdy repeated, and this time there was a general scramble to obey. "Major Tarlok," he called, "help the women find their clothes."

Most of the men stood in ranks now, but a few, perhaps a dozen, were slipping away into the darkness. "Stop where you are!"

Most stopped, though several fled.

"Where were you men going?"

"Back to our company, Marshal," one called apologetically. "We're not Barlin's, sir. We just came to see what was going on."

Yeah, and have a turn at it. "All right," he called. "Just remember what you saw and heard." He turned his attention back to Barlin's Company, a company short by at least a third, no doubt from the morning's battle… and felt his anger die. "Do you know why I killed your captain?" he asked. "And your sergeant?" His voice, though loud, was almost conversational. Suddenly it boomed. "BECAUSE THEY DEFIED ME. DEFIED MY ORDERS! Now let me remind you: I gave orders that there is to be no raping. Your captain and your sergeant defied those orders. Now they're dead! Sent to Hell!"

His eyes found Tarlok again. And the women, now with their torn and trampled clothing clutched to them. "Major, take these women to the Sisters. Tell Omara what happened; tell her to do something for them. And get them some clothes; Barlin's Company will pay for them."

He turned to the men in ranks. "Company, 'tention! Right face! Forward march!" Calling cadence, he marched them out of the firelight, through the night to the battlefield, most of them barefoot and without pants. On the bloody killing ground, he double-timed them back and forth, controlling them from a central position, for he'd become so much a horseman, he'd done no serious walking for months, let alone running. While they were infantry, their legs tough, their lungs like bellows. After about twenty minutes he marched them back, but before he dismissed them, he asked who'd been second in command.

A tall, rawboned man spoke up. "I was, sir."

"What's your name?"

"Arliss, lieutenant, 2nd Kormehri Infantry, sir."

"Lieutenant, you are now a captain, and company commander. Congratulations on a first class company. But remember…" Abruptly his voice raised to a roar. "NO RAPING! AND NO MURDERING CIVILIANS! I don't want to send any more of you to Hell." He paused. "I'm turning them over to you now, Captain. Take up a collection for the women, tonight. Every man will give something. Something valuable, whatever he has."