Obrin cupped some water into his hands and drank noisily. There was an edge to the man’s voice, like a plea of some kind. Obrin looked at him. ‘Yes, I dreamt,’ he said. ‘You?’
Kollarin nodded. ‘Did it make sense to you?’
‘Are dreams supposed to make sense?’
Kollarin moved in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘He has come to me before – back in Citadel when I was hunting the woman. He told me to leave her be. That is why I only agreed to hunt down the man. Do you know who he is?’
‘I thought you only read minds for coin,’ Obrin reminded him. The sergeant stood and shivered as the cold morning breeze touched his wet skin. Hastily he donned his shirt, then returned to his blankets and put on his armour. Kollarin remained by the stream.
A soldier with a swollen nose approached Obrin. ‘All quiet in the night,’ he said, his voice thick and nasal.
‘How’s the nose, Bakker?’
‘Hurts like Hell. I was tempted to cut the bastard’s throat last night, but I reckon I’ll just get myself dungeon duty and watch the torturer at work on him.’
‘We ride in one hour,’ said Obrin.
They breakfasted on porridge and black bread, but the prisoner steadfastly refused the food Obrin brought to him. With the meal finished, the cooking pots cleaned and stowed, Obrin’s men prepared for the journey back to Citadel.
‘Riders coming!’ shouted one of the men. Obrin wandered to the edge of the hollow and waited as the ten-man section rode in. They were led by Lieutenant Masrick. Obrin saluted as the man dismounted.
‘I see you caught him,’ said the officer, ignoring the salute. ‘About time, sergeant. Has he told you where the girl is?’
‘No sir. I was ordered to bring him back, not interrogate him.’
Masrick swung to Bakker, who was just about to douse the breakfast fire. ‘You there! Keep that fire going.’ Slipping his dagger from its sheath, he tossed it to Bakker. ‘Heat the point. I want it glowing red.’
Masrick strode to where Fell was tied, then aimed a savage kick into the prisoner’s belly, doubling him over. ‘That,’ said the officer, ‘is for nothing at all. What follows will, however, have value. Are you listening, clansman?’
Fell raised his head and met the officer’s stare. He said nothing. Masrick knelt before him and punched him full in the face. Fell’s head snappped back, cannoning against the tree-trunk. ‘You killed a cousin of mine. He was a wretch, but he owed me money. That was bad. But it will be worth much more to me to find the woman and bring her back to the Baron. I think you’ll help me. All you clansmen think you are tough. But trust me, when I have burned out your left eye you’ll do anything to save the sight in the other.”
The soldiers had gathered round the scene in a sweeping half-circle. Obrin gazed at their faces.They were eager for the entertainment. Kollarin was standing back from them, his expression impossible to read. Bakker brought the heated knife to the officer; the hilt was wrapped in a rag, the point hissing as Masrick took it.
‘Lieutenant!’ Obrin’s voice barked out. Masrick was startled and he almost dropped the knife.
‘What? Make it quick, man, the knife is cooling!’
‘Leave him be!’
Masrick ignored him and knelt before Fell, the knife moving towards the forester’s eyes. Obrin’s foot rose and slammed into the officer’s face, spinning him to the ground. There was a gasp from the soldiers. Masrick rolled to his knees, then screamed as his hand pressed down on the red-hot blade which was smouldering in the grass. He surged to his feet, his face crimson. ‘By God you’ll pay for that!’
‘I am an acting captain,’ said Obrin, ‘promoted by the Baron himself. You are a lieutenant who just disobeyed an order from a superior officer. Where does that leave you, you jumped-up toad?’
‘You have lost your mind,’ sneered Masrick, ‘and I will see you hang for your impertinence. No common man may strike a nobleman, be the common man a captain or a general. That kick is going to cost you dear!’