He shrugged. "It's been some days; the weakness is normal after so long asleep."

"I wish I knew-" In his presence, still more of the warnings came clear, and the emptiness inside was no comfort at all.

He looked sideways at her. "What?"

"If I will be all right again. I don't know how I'll know. And now that I remember what they did, I can't think of anything else."

He sat near the bed, and laid a hand on her arm. "Don't fret about it. You remember that worries before a battle don't help. When it's time, when you're stronger, then you'll find out."

"But what do you think, my lord. Do you think it's gone?"

He sighed, and did not ask what she meant. "Paks, from what I saw, they stirred the very roots of your mind with powerful magicks. From such stirring nothing would be safe. You don't look different, bar being pale from days in 490.

bed, but I can't tell by looking. The test of a sword is not its polish, but its temper."

"I want, to be ... myself." Paks whispered the last, thinking.

"You are yourself, Paks, and always will be. Yet people change with time, with age-"

"Not like that. I can't stand it, my lord, if I can't-if I become-"

"Paks." His grip on her arm tightened. "Look at me." His face, when she looked, was as grim as ever she'd seen it, his eyes hard. She feared him suddenly. "Paks, you are yourself, and you can stand whatever comes. I swear to you. I was not always a duke, I had-"

"But you were always brave, always a warrior!"

"No." His gaze slipped past her into an immeasurable distance. "I will not tell you that tale now, but no: I was not always brave. And you do not yet know you have lost anything. Take heart, Paks, until the time comes."

"But why does Haran dislike me so?"

"Haran?' His face relaxed, puzzled. "I don't know. The Marshal-General a.s.signed her here; perhaps she'd rather be elsewhere. Has she been unkind?'

"No. But she seemed not to like me, or something I'd done."

"My lord Duke!" Haran's voice, from the doorway, was indignant. The Duke turned slowly. Paks saw the muscles bunch in his jaw.

"Marshal Haran." His tone would have warned anyone in his Company.

"What are you doing with her?"

"I? I came to see how she was, and found her awake and willing for company. Have you any objection?"

"No. I would have sent, later, to tell you she was awake-"

"Thank you. As you see, I found out for myself."

"I had to take the trays back-" Paks realized Haran was defensive.

"No matter." The Duke waved, as if a squire were apologizing for an overdone loaf of bread. "Tell me, if you can-is the Marshal-General satisfied with her recovery?"

491.

Haran bristled visibly. "I can't speak for the Marshal-General. She knows best. But she did say-" a sharp glance at Paks, "that the evil was safely destroyed."

"And at what cost?"

"That she did not say." Marshal Haran sat down near the fireplace. "Whatever the cost, it would be worth it."

"Whatever?" The Duke turned to her, his hand still on Paks's arm.

"Duke Phelan, I am a Girdsman. A Marshal. The most important thing is that evil be defeated-destroyed. Nothing else matters. Whatever stands in the way-'

'A life?" asked Phelan softly.

"Yes." Haran looked stubborn, her brow farrowed. "I have risked mine. Any Girdsman knows the risk: we are to serve good, and only good."

"Ah, yes. Good. Are you sure you know good?"

"Of course." Her chin was up; she met his look boldly.

"Yes. Of course. You are sure, Marshal, that you know what is good, but I am not so sure." He paused, as if waiting for her comment, but she said nothing. "I have not been sure, for some years, that you Gird's Marshals really do know good from evil, and as yet nothing I've seen here has convinced me." His hand left Paks's arm; she could feel the taut control of that movement. "You do not, perhaps, think I have any such standards myself. But I a.s.sure you, Marshal, that a professional soldier, as I am, has had more combat experience than you. I have seen men and women under great stress, repeated stress. And I know those soldiers more thoroughly man you ever will." He paused again. Haran looked furious, but still said nothing. "Paks is one of them."

Paks stirred, and said, "My lord-"

"Paks, this is not your argument; you but famished the opportunity. What I am saying, Marshal, is that you have known her but a short time; I have known her for years. You have seen her in one trouble; I have seen her in many. I know her as someone trustworthy in battle, in long campaigns, day after day. You see some flaw-some little speck on a shining ring-and condemn the whole. But I see the whole-the years of service, the duties 492.

faithfully performed . . . and that is good, Marshal. Is there one of us with no flaws? Are you perfect, that you indict her?"

"I don't-I never said-"

"Not you personally, but the Girdsmen here. You're one of them; you said so."

"Well-I-" Haran looked at Paks, then back at the Duke, clearly gathering herself for an attack. "She's supposed to be so special-"

"What!" Paks flinched at the Duke's tone even though he spoke to Haran.

"She came only last fall; she was paladin candidate after Midwinter Feast. That's different, if you like! Promising, they all said. Remarkable. Chosen to go on quest, when she's not even past her Trials. And then she gets herself captured, like any half-wit yeoman without battle experience, and rather than die honorably, as most yeomen would have done, she cooperates with the kuaknom and is contaminated by Achrya. Haran slapped the table and drew another breath. "And now they made this fuss over her-I can understand it from you, who aren't even Girdish, but the others! It makes me sick!"

"Haran!" None of them had noticed the Marshal-General's arrival. She looked almost as angry as the Duke. Haran paused, then shook her head.

"Marshal-General, I'm sorry, but I don't care. It's true. Paksenarrion should never have been accepted as a candidate; she wasn't fit, she hadn't served lone enough- Of course the evil had to be rooted out; if something was lost, sh.e.l.l just have to live with that. It's nonsense anyway: if she had had sufficient courage, there would be no danger of losing it. I don't see all this p.u.s.s.yfooting. It's not that she's special, it's that she's had special treatment. And far too much of it!" Haran turned on her heel and stalked out. The Duke moved to follow, but the Marshal-General held up her hand.

"Please, my lord Duke! Hear my apology first, and allow me to discipline my own."

"I'm listening, he said grimly.

"I am sorry-I did not know Haran felt that way, or I .

493.

would never have had her here. I wanted Paks to have Marshals, whose oath of secrecy I could trust, caring for her. I knew Haran was a bit p.r.i.c.kly-she always has been; it's why she has no grange-but she has always been fair before."

"Well, then. And what of Paks?"

The Marshal-General came past him to Paks. "To you,, as well, I apologize for Marshal Haran's words. May I ask if she has done you any harm?"

"No, my lady." Pals still felt numb from the force of Haran's attack.

"No harm but to bully and insult her," put in the Duke.

"My lord, I understand that."

"Good. Marshal-General, I came hoping you would be here as well as Paks. Can you tell yet what has happened to her?"

Paks watched the Marshal-General's face, hoping for reprieve from imagined dooms, but it was still and unreadable. "No, my lord," she said to Phelan. "I cannot tell. It is early yet, and she is still recovering." She turned to Paks again, her expression softening. "Paksenarrion, you must have realized, from what Haran said, that some fear you have been badly damaged. I would not lie to you: as I warned you before, great loss is possible. But I mink we will not know until you have regained your strength. We worried because you lay senseless so long, but that may mean nothing. Please tell me if you feel anything different in yourself at any time."

"I-I couldn't eat-" Paks said softly.

"Couldn't eat? What was wrong?"

"I couldn't-couldn't hold the-" Suddenly she began to cry, and tried to smother it. "-the fork-I couldn't cut-I dropped-"

"Oh, Pafcs!" The Marshal-General took her hands. "Don't- It will get better. It will. You are weak, it's too soon-"

"But she said-like a baby-" Paks turned into the pillows, ashamed.

"No. Don't say that. She was wrong. It will come back, faster than you think." The Marshal-General looked aside; 494.

Paks watched the line of her jaw and cheek. "If you keep trying, Paks, it will come back."

"AH of it?" asked the Duke softly, echoing Paks's thought.

The Marshal-General's lips thinned. ' My lord Duke, please! We cannot know yet. It will do her-or you-no good to worry about that now."

"But she cannot help it, Marshal-General. Nor could you, if you were in that bed, and she beside it. I, too, tried to tell her not to worry about the future, but that's empty wisdom no one can follow. What can she think about, save this? Nothing but knowledge will ease her."

"I have no knowledge," said the Marshal-General. She shook her head, and met Paks's eyes again. "But believe this: I do not think as Haran does, nor do your other friends. And Haran will not think that way long. Only someone of great courage and strength could have held off that evil so long, once it entered."

A knock on the door interrupted them again. Marshal BeHan, whom Paks had known before the journey to Kolobia, put in his head. "Now or later?" Jie asked.

"Come on in, Belfan." Hie Marshal-General got up. "Paksenarrion is awake, but weak."

"So Haran said. Gird's grace to you, Paksenarrion, my lord Duke. Old Artagfa says first snow by morning, Marshal-General."

"Winter starts earlier every year," grumbled the Marshal-General; BeHan laughed. He had an easy way with him, and hardly seemed a Marshal most of the time.

"You said that last year," he said. "It comes," he said to Paks and the Duke, "of having a Marshal-General who grew up in the south."

"In Aarenis?" asked the Duke, clearly surprised.

"No. Southern Tsaia." Hie Marshal-General was smiling now. "Around here they call any place where it doesn't frost the Summereve flowers the south. Gird knows I like hunting weather as well as anyone, but-"

"You're getting older, Marshal-General, that's what it is." BeUan stuck his hands in his belt, chuckling. She gave him a hard look.

495.

"Is it indeed, my young Marshal! Perhaps you'd like to trade a few buffets in Hall and find out just how old I am?"

"Perhaps I'll throw myself down the steps on my own, and not wait for you."

They all laughed, even Paks. Belfan came over to her. "You look enough better that I expect you'll be throwing the Marshal-General down the steps in a few days yourself. What a time we've had! The long faces around here looked more like a horse farm than Fin Panir's grange and Hall."

"What about something to eat?" asked the Marshal-General. "I can have something sent up for all of us."

"Good idea." The Duke smiled down at Paks. "If we stuff her with food, she'll soon feel more herself."

And when faced with a bowl of thick soup, Paks was able to spoon it up with few spills. No one commented on the mess; the Marshal-General wiped it up matter-of-factly, while talking of other things. When they had all finished, she helped Paks sit up on the bed: she could not lift herself, but could balance alone.

The next time she woke, the Marshal-General and Belfan helped her stand, wavering, between them. She walked lopsided and staggering, but with their aid could make it across the room. Several days later she could walk alone, slowly but more steadily. Her improvement continued. When she could manage stairs, she went outside, to the Marshal-General's walled garden. After that came her first walk across the forecourt, to the High Lord's Hall. The glances of the others p.r.i.c.ked her like nettles; she looked down, watching the stones under her feet. Haran had claimed that others felt as she did: some of them saw cowardice on her face, with her scars. But she hoped, while fearing her hope was false, that with the return of physical strength sh& had nothing else to fear.

She had grown strong enough to fret at the confinement of the Marshal-General's quarters, and had begun taking walks on the training fields, usually with the Duke, or one of the Marshals. She did not question their company, noticing that they rarely left her alone, but not wanting to know why. One crisp cold day, she was. with Belfan when 496.

a thunder of hooves came from behind. They turned, to see several students galloping up, carrying lances. Paks felt a wave of weakness and fear that took the strength from her knees. Sunlight glittered from the lance-tips, ominous as dragons' teeth; the horses seemed twice as large as normal, their great hooves digging at die ground. She clutched Belfen's arm, breathless.

"Paks! We thought you were going to be shut up forever!" It was the young Marrakai boy, waving his lance in his excitement. "I wanted to tell you: I've been put in the higher cla.s.s! I can drill with you now-" As nis horse pranced, Paks tried not to flinch from the sudden movements. Another of the students peered at her.

"You've got new scars. They said-"

"Enough. Begone now." Marshal Belfan spoke firmly.

"But, Marshal-"

"Paks, what's wrong? You're shaking-" The Marrakai boy's sharp eyes glittered; she could see the curiosity and worry on all their faces.

"Go on, now." The Marshal took a step forward. "This is nothing for you."

"But she's-"

"Now!" Paks had never heard Belfan bellow like that, and she jumped as the students did. They rode away, looking back over their shoulders. He looked down at her. Only then did she realize that her legs had failed her, and she had collapsed in a heap. "Here-let me help you up." His hand, hard and calloused, suddenly seemed threatening in its strength; Paks had to force herself to take it. She felt the blood rushing to her face. What would the students think? She knew. She knew what she thought. She had never felt such fear, never been mastered by fear like that. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She heard Belfan sigh heavily. When he spoke again, his voice was still cheerful, though Paks thought she heard the effort behind it.

"Paks, don't think one time means anything. Some days back you couldn't take a single step alone. Now you can walk around the wall. This is the same; this weakness can .

497.

pa.s.s, just as the weakness of your legs pa.s.sed. What frightened you most?"