The Deed of Paksenarrion (6 page)

“Wishing you were back on the farm, Paks?” Stammel’s voice was almost gentle.

Her head came up in surprise. “No, sir. I just wish—I wish it hadn’t happened, or that you’d been there to see it all.”

“Still want to be a soldier, even after this?”

“Of course! It’s what I’ve always wanted, but—but if everyone thinks I’m lying—I’ll never have the chance.” She retched again.

“Paks, is all this heaving from being in trouble, or what?”

“I—I think it’s from being hit, here—” She gestured at her midriff. “It hurts there.”

“I thought you just had a black eye and a bloody nose—let’s see, can you sit up straighter?” Stammel moved away from the light to her side. “No, keep looking toward the light. Hmm—that whole side of your face is swollen. I can’t even see your eyelashes. Your nose is broken, certainly.” He touched the swelling very gently. Paks winced. “That
could
be from more than one blow. Do your ears ring?”

“Yes, sir—but it comes and goes.”

“What’s this gash on your shoulder? He didn’t have a blade, did he?”

“No. I think that was the belt buckle. My father’s used to do that.”

“I wish this torchlight was brighter and steadier,” grumbled Stammel. “Lift your chin. Looks like your throat is bruised, too. Does it hurt to breathe?”

“Just a little.”

“Well, where else are you hurt?”

“In—in front. It all hurts. And my legs.”

“Stand up, then. I’ll want a look at the damage.”

Paksenarrion tried to stand, but her legs had stiffened after hours of sitting on the cold stone. At first she could not move at all, but when Stammel gave her an arm to pull up on, she staggered up, still unable to straighten. She could not repress a short cry of pain.

“Here—lean against the wall if you aren’t steady.” Stammel swung her around and braced her against the wall opposite the torch. “Tir’s bones, I don’t see how you could have half-killed him in the shape you’re in.” Then he paused, glancing down at his arm and then at the stone bench. “It
is
blood. What did they—”

Paks felt herself slipping down the wall; she could not seem to hold herself up.

“Here, now—don’t fall,” said Stammel. The warning came too late. Paks lay curled on her side, heaving helplessly.

“I’m—I’m sorry—” she gasped finally.

“Lie still then. Let me look—” Stammel raised her tunic. Even in the flickering torchlight he could see the welts and dried blood on her thighs. Her tunic was ripped in several places. Stammel swore suddenly, words Paks had heard from her cousin. Then his voice softened. “Paks, I’m going to talk to the captain. We’ll get this straightened out somehow. You can’t be faking these injuries, and their story doesn’t hold up when you’re too weak to stand.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, let’s get you back on the bench. I’ll try to get the captain to let me have Maia see you, but don’t count on it.” He half-lifted her. “Come on—help me. You’re too big for me to lift alone.”

Paks struggled up and finally made it onto the bench with Stammel’s help.

“I’ll be back to check again tonight, and of course in the morning. You’ll be all right, though miserable. Try not to move around—that may help the heaves—and don’t panic. We won’t forget you.” With that Stammel took down the torch, opened the door, and left, taking the light with him. Paks lay in the darkness, not quite sure whether she felt better or worse about her prospects.

Stammel came up from the cells looking, had he known it, as angry as he felt. Bosk waited near the head of the stairs. When he caught sight of Stammel’s face, his own seemed to freeze for an instant. Stammel, his mind whirling with what he must do, and quickly, before the captain went to bed, stopped at the head of the stairs and beckoned. “Corporal Bosk,” he said, and his voice surprised himself.

“Yes, sir.” Bosk was looking at something below his face—at his sleeve, Stammel realized. He felt unreasonably irritated.

“I didn’t do it, Bosk; you know better!”

“Yes, sir.” Bosk’s eyes came back to his.

“We have a problem, Bosk, and little time to solve it. I want you to isolate Korryn, at once. I want to speak to everyone who was in that room from the time Stephi came in until we got there—no matter who, or how long they stayed—everyone. Separately—I’ll use the duty room for that. And before I talk to them, I want to know what they’ve been doing, and what you and Devlin think. But quickly.”

“Yes, sir. Do you want me to move Korryn first? And where?”

“Yes. Use that storage chamber down the way, and put a guard with him. He’s not to talk to anyone. Is Dev in the duty room?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll be there. You take care of Korryn and come to me when it’s done.”

“Yes, sir.” Bosk left the recruit barracks to find a guard, and Stammel walked to the duty room down the hall. Inside, Devlin was writing up the log of his watch, frowning. Stammel stepped into the room and Devlin looked up.

“Are they quiet?” asked Stammel.

“About what you’d expect. I thought we were going to have more trouble for a bit: Korryn and Saben. But I made ‘em shut up.”

Stammel realized that Devlin, too, was looking at his blood-stained sleeve. “Dev, I haven’t been beating her—someone else did that.”

“Sir. I wouldn’t have thought she’d brawl like that.”

“I don’t think she did, Dev.” Stammel paused to listen to feet in the passage behind him. Bosk must have found a guard. Devlin looked confused.

“But, sir, they both said the same thing. And Stephi was down.”

“Yes. That’ll bear thinking on.” Stammel heard voices in the barracks; he and Devlin both listened. Korryn, sounding aggrieved; Bosk, sounding grim and certain. Then three sets of footsteps in the passage, going away. Stammel resumed. “Devlin, if I’d asked you this morning whose word to take on something, Korryn’s or hers, what would you have said?”

“Well—Paks’s, of course. But now—”

“No buts. If it’s just Paks against Korryn, we
know
Paks is more trustworthy. She’s never done one underhanded thing yet.”

“Yes, but what about Stephi? He’s not like Korryn, that I’ve heard.”

“No, that’s true, and I’ve known him as long as you have. But I’ve seen him in fights—to be as dazed as he was, with no more marks on him—that’s not like him. I wish I knew how badly he’s hurt.”

Bosk edged in the door. “Korryn’s safe, sir. And Saben wants to talk to you.”

“I’ll get to him. You need to hear this too, Bosk. Stephi’s story is that Paks jumped him when he hadn’t done more than proposition her, right? And that she halfway killed him, except that Korryn dragged her off just before we got there.”

The corporals nodded. “He said—or was it Korryn?—that he’d only hit her a couple of times since the fight started, she was so wild,” added Devlin.

“Then how is it,” asked Stammel, “that Paks is lying down there too weak to stand, covered with bruises and welts?”

“Welts?”

“Yes. Stephi’s belt, according to her, and Korryn still had his on, as I recall.” Stammel moved restlessly about the little room. “I can’t explain Stephi’s part in this, but it needs explaining. He’s not known as a liar, but—”

“Come to think of it,” Devlin interrupted, “most of that story came from Korryn, remember? Stephi hardly said a word—nodded when Korryn said ‘isn’t that right’—muttered a little, but that’s all.”

“Still—I’ve got to come up with answers before the captain goes to bed. We can’t spring all this in the morning. Now: Devlin, I’ll be using this room to talk to those who were in the room at any time while Stephi was there. I want you to find out, as quietly as possible, whether anyone saw Stephi acting strangely at any time this afternoon or evening. Bosk, you find Maia, Siger, and the afternoon watch commander, and have them meet me in—half a glass. If I’m not through here, come along and I’ll step out to meet them in the yard. Got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll speak to Saben first. And remember—keep this quiet.”

“Yes, sir.” Bosk and Devlin left the room, and Stammel seated himself behind the desk. Almost at once Saben appeared in the doorway.

“Come in, Saben.” The tall boy was obviously worried.

“Please, sir,” Saben began even before he was all the way in. “No matter what they say, Paks couldn’t have done anything that bad. You ought to know that. She never even hit Korryn, and he pestered her all the time—”

“Just a minute now,” Stammel interrupted. “You’re the one who came to find us, right:”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want to know when you first saw Corporal Stephi, and how he acted, and everything you yourself saw him do, or Paks do, until you left the room.”

“Yes, sir. Well, this afternoon our unit was having weapons practice with Siger, and that’s when he—I mean Corporal Stephi—rode in with the others. My file was waiting turns, and I’d been watching Paks and Siger, but then I started watching the newcomers.”

“How did they look?”

Saben pursed his lips. “Very—impressive, sir. Coben and I were saying we hoped we’d look like that. Anyway, Corporal Stephi sent some recruit for the quartermaster, and looked around until he came. He looked at Paks then, sir, but I didn’t think anything of it. She is good to look at, and she actually got a touch on Siger.” He paused, as if waiting for a comment from Stammel.

“Go on.”

“When the quartermaster came out, they talked, and he and all his men took off their swords. I had hoped they’d do a demonstration for us. Then one of the men led all the horses off to the stables, and the corporal went off with the quartermaster. We were through with practice and just cleaning up for supper when I saw him speak to the guard and go through the Duke’s Gate. I don’t know why—”

“To arrange lodging for his captain, most likely.”

“Anyway, I didn’t see him again until after supper, in the barracks. Only a few of us were in there; most weren’t through with their chores. Paks and I had finished ours before supper. She’d promised to show me how to do a round braid in leather; Siger had told us to start planning the wrappings for our sword hilts. And Korryn was there; he nearly always is. And two or three more. I’d just fastened some thongs together, and was showing Paks, when the corporal came in. He looked around, and saw us, and told Paks he wanted to talk to her.

“Did he seem the same as before?”

“I don’t know. A little flushed, maybe, and determined. He gestured Paks to the back of the room, and he had hold of her arm. He sort of pushed her against the bunk in the corner, so she sat down, and he sat down with her, and started talking. Telling her she should bed him, she should be flattered, all that stuff. I could tell she was upset; she got very pink and then pale, and she looked around—but what could we do? He was a corporal. He kept talking louder, and then he said—” Saben stopped abruptly and blushed.

“Yes? What?”

“He said she must have bedded someone, to be a file leader. It was terrible, sir, Paks of all people, and she was really angry. I didn’t think he should be acting like that, so I left to find you. Only I couldn’t find you or our corporals, for the longest time—I didn’t want to yell it out to the whole courtyard—and when I finally asked a guard, he said you were in the Duke’s court with the captain. The guard at the gate wouldn’t let me in, and at first he didn’t want to take a message. I shouldn’t have left, I guess, but I didn’t know they’d beat her up.”

“You couldn’t tell. Next time there’s trouble, though, go to one of the guards at once to find me. Now, do you remember who else was in the room when Stephi came, and who left before you?”

“Korryn and Jens, Lurtli, Pinnwa, and Vik, I think. Vik left just as the corporal came in; I don’t know about the others. I was watching Paks.”

“Saben, have you ever asked Paks to bed you?”

“No. I’ve wanted to, though. But she has enough trouble with Korryn bothering her; I didn’t want to be that kind of worry. If she wants it, she’ll let me know. We’re friends, anyway.”

“All right, Saben; you can go.”

“Sir, you won’t let them hurt her any more, will you?”

“I’m doing what I can.”

“But, sir—”

“Enough, Saben. Go on, now.”

A full glass later, after talking to everyone he’d summoned, Stammel faced his corporals and sighed.

“I’m convinced,” he said. “And you are. But I wish it were any captain but Sejek.”

“He’s a hard man,” said Devlin, nodding.

“And stubborn. If he’s still in the same mood, evidence won’t mean a thing to him. Once he’s made up his mind—”

“You can insist that Valichi preside,” said Bosk suddenly.

“By Tir, I can! How did I forget that? It’s not as if Valichi yielded command to Sejek; he was just away. And since she’s a recruit—of course her commander has jurisdiction.” He rose. “Sejek’s going to be furious, I don’t doubt, but with what we’ve found, he’ll have to agree. I hope.” With a wave of his hand, he left the recruit barracks for the Duke’s Court.

At the gate, he spoke to the guard. “I need to speak to the captain.”

“He’s gone up,” said the guard. “Are you sure you want to disturb him?”

“He’s not asleep,” said Stammel, cocking his head at a lighted window across the court. “I need to see him before he goes to bed.”

“About—?”

“Just announce me. He’ll see me.”

“On your head, Stammel.”

“It already is.” Together they walked across the court and the guard spoke to the door sentry.

“Very well, sir. Down this passage, up the stairs, second door on the right. Not carrying any weapons, are you?” Stammel sighed and handed over his dagger. “Thank you, Sergeant.”

Stammel took a deep breath, checked the hang of his cloak, and strode down the passage, up the stairs, to pause in the second doorway on the right. Inside the room, a roomy study, the captain sat writing in the light of a double oil lamp. The captain finished his line and glanced at the door.

“Come in, Sergeant Stammel. Did you check on your recruit?” Captain Sejek’s broad, rather flat face rarely showed much expression, and didn’t now.

“Yes, sir.” Stammel stood stiffly halfway between the door and the desk.

“Well?”

“Sir, I’m not—easy about this.”