I dove for unconsciousness, but it eluded me. I was struck, kicked, and throttled before Regal’s frenzied cries of “Don’t kill him! Don’t kill him!” seemed to matter to anyone save me. I felt them get off me, felt them drag Will from under me, but I could not see. Blood was sheeting down over my face. My tears mingled with it. My last chance, and I had failed. I had not even gotten Will: Oh, he would be sick for a few days, but I doubted he would die of it. Even now I heard them muttering over him.
“Take him to a healer, then.” I heard Regal finally give the command. “See if he can figure out what’s wrong with him. Did one of you kick him in the head?”
I thought that he spoke of me, until I heard the sounds of Will being carried out. So either I had gotten more into him than I had thought, or someone had kicked him in the head. Perhaps his gasp had pulled it into his lungs. I had no idea what it would do there. As I felt his Skill presence fading it was relief almost as blessed as surcease from pain. Cautiously I relaxed my vigilance against him. It was like setting down a terribly heavy weight. Another thought blessed me. They didn’t know. No one had seen the paper and powder, it had happened too quickly for them. They might not even think of poison until it was too late for him.
“Is the Bastard dead?” Regal demanded angrily. “If he is, I swear, every man of you will hang!”
Someone stooped hastily beside me, to lay fingers at the pulse in my throat. “He’s alive,” a soldier said gruffly, almost sullenly. Someday Regal would learn not to threaten his own guard. I hoped he’d be taught it by an arrow through his back.