“Dag! You made it!” He laughed, coughed, grimaced, and moaned. “Ow. Knew you would!”

The patroller woman raised her eyebrows at this broad claim but grinned indulgently.

Dag walked to the bedside and smiled down, adopting a cheerful tone. “Now, I know you had six broken ribs at least. I ask you, is this the time for speeches?”

“Only a short one,” wheezed the young man. His hand found Dag’s and grasped it.

“Thank you.”

Dag’s brows twitched, but he didn’t argue. Such sincere gratitude shone in the young man’s eyes, Fawn warmed to him at once. Finally, somebody seemed to be taking Dag at his worth. Saun turned his head to peer somewhat blearily at her, and she smiled at him with all her heart. He blinked rapidly and smiled back, looking a bit flummoxed.

Dag gave the hand a little shake from side to side, and asked more softly,

“How’re you doing, Saun?”

“It only hurts when I laugh.”

“Oh? Don’t let the patrol know that.” The dry light in Dag’s eyes was mirth, Fawn realized.

Saun sputtered and coughed. “Ow! Blast you, Dag!”

“See what I mean?” He added more sternly, “They tell me you haven’t been sleeping. I said, couldn’t be—this is the patroller we have to roll out of his blankets by force in camp in the morning. Feather beds too soft for you now?

Shall I bring you a few rocks to make it more homelike?”

Saun held a hand to his bandaged chest and carefully refrained from chuckling.

“Naw. All I want is your tale. They said”—his face grew grave in memory, and he moistened his lips—“they found your horse yesterday miles from the lair, found the lair, found half your gear and your bow abandoned in a pile. Your bow.

Didn’t think you’d ever leave that on purpose. Two rotting mud-men and a pile of something Mari swore was the dead malice, and a trail of blood leading off to nothing. What were we supposed to think?”

“I was rather hoping someone would think I’d found shelter at the nearest farm,”

Dag said ruefully. “I begin to suspect I’m not exciting enough for you all.”

Saun’s eyes narrowed. “There’s more than that,” he said positively.

“Quite a bit, but it’s for Mari’s ears first.” Dag glanced at Fawn.

Saun slumped in apparent acceptance of this. “As long as I get more sometime.”

“Sometime.” Dag hesitated, then added diffidently, “So… did they also find the body I’d left in the tree?”

Three faces turned to stare.

“Evidently not yet,” Dag murmured.

“See what I told you? See?” said Saun to his companions in a voice of vindication. He added to Dag through slightly gritted teeth, “Sometime soon, all right?”

“As I can.” Dag nodded at the two from the other patrol. “Did Mari say when she’d be back?”

They shook their heads. “She left at dawn,” the woman offered.

“Need anything more right now, Saun?” asked the patroller man.

“You just brought me what I wanted most,” said Saun. “Take a break, eh?”

“I think I will.” With a barely audible grunt of pain, the patroller man sat down on the other bed, evidently his own, shed his boots, and used his hands to swing the stiff leg inboard. “Ah.”

Dag nodded in farewell. “Sleep hard, Saun. Try and wake up smarter, eh?”

A faint snort and a muffled Ow! followed the three out. Dag’s face, turning away, softened like a man finding grace in an unexpected hour. “Yeah, he’ll be all right,” he muttered in satisfaction.

The patroller woman closed the door quietly behind them.

“So, was that Saun the Sheep?” asked Fawn.

“Aye, the very lamb,” said Dag. “If he lives long enough to trade in some of that enthusiasm for brains, he’ll be a good patroller. He’s made it to twenty, so far. Must be luck.” His smile took a twist. “Same as you, Little Spark.”

As they started down the hall, a woman’s voice called weakly from a room with an open door.

“That’s Reela,” said the patroller woman quickly. “Do you have all you need, sir?”

“If not, I’ll find it.” Dag gave a dismissing wave. “I’ve known this place for years.”

“Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see what she wants.” She nodded and stepped away.

As they made their way down the stairs, Fawn heard Dag mutter under his breath,

“Stop sir-ing me, you dreadful puppies!” He paused at the bottom, his hand on the rail, and looked back upward, his face going distant.

“Now what are you thinking?” Fawn asked softly.

“I’m thinking… that when our walking wounded are set to look after our carrying-wounded, it’s a sure sign we’re too short-rostered. Mari’s patrol is sixteen, four by four. It should be twenty-five, five by five. I wonder how many Chato’s patrol is down by? Ah, well.” He vented a sigh. “Let’s rustle us up some food, Spark.” Dag led her to a rather astonishing little commode chamber, where she was able to swap out her dressings and wash up in the pretty painted tin basin provided.

When she emerged, he escorted her in turn to one of the big downstairs rooms, full of tables with benches or chairs but, at this hour, empty of other people.

In a few minutes, a serving girl came out of the kitchen in back with a tray of ham, cheese, two kinds of bread, cream-and-rhubarb pie, and strawberries, with a pitcher of beer and a jug of milk, fresh, the girl informed them, from the hotel’s own cows kept out back. Fawn mentally added serving girl to her list of potential Glassforge jobs, as well as milkmaid, and set to under Dag’s benign eye. More relaxed than she’d ever seen him, he plowed in heartily, she noted with satisfaction.

They were contesting the last strawberry, each trying to press it on the other, when Dag’s head came up, and he said “Ah.” In a moment, Fawn could hear through the open windows the clatter of horses and echo of voices in the stable yard.

In another minute, the door slammed open and booted footsteps rapped across the floorboards. Mari, trailed by two other patrollers, swept into the dining room, halted by their table, planted her fists on her hips, and glowered at Dag.

“You,” she uttered, and never had Fawn heard one syllable carry so much freight.

Deadpan, Dag topped up his beer glass and handed it to her. Not taking her exasperated eyes from him, she raised it to her lips and gulped down half.

The other two patrollers were grinning broadly.

“Were you trying to give me the fright of my life, boy?” she demanded, plunking the glass back down almost hard enough to crack it.

“No,” Dag drawled, rescuing the glass and filling it again, “I suspect that was just a bonus. Sit down and catch your breath, Aunt Mari.”

“Don’t you Aunt Mari me till I’m done reaming you out,” she said, but much more mildly. One of the patrollers at her shoulder, catching Dag’s eye, pulled out a chair for her, and she sat anyhow. By the time she’d blown out her breath and stretched her back, her posture had grown much less alarming. Except for the underlying exhaustion creeping to the surface; Dag’s brows drew down at that.

He reached across the table and gripped her hand. “Sorry for any false scares.

Saun told me about you finding my messes yesterday. I kind of had my hand full, though.”

“Aye, so I heard.”

“Oh, did you find the Horsefords’ farm, finally?”

“About two hours ago. Now, there was a garbled tale and a half.” She glanced speculatively at Fawn, and her frown at Dag deepened.

Dag said, “Mari, may I present Miss Fawn Bluefield. Spark, this is my patrol leader, Mari Redwing Hickory. Mari’s her personal name, Redwing is our tent name, and the Hickory is for Hickory Lake Camp, which is our patrol’s home base.”

Fawn ducked her head politely. Mari returned an extremely provisional nod.

Gesturing, Dag continued, “Utau and Razi, also of Hickory Camp.” The two other patrollers made friendly salutes of greeting to her not unlike Dag’s. Utau was older, shorter, and burlier, and wore his thinning hair in a knot like Mari’s.