Laurent had made his point earlier. Now he had more to gain by asserting his authority in Damen’s direction. This was a meeting that might spark a war—or stop one, Damen told himself. This was a meeting that might determine the future of Akielos. Damen bowed, and did as he was told.
* * *
Outside, he walked the length of the fort, throwing off the sticky feel of the Veretian web of politics and manoeuvring.
Lord Touars wanted a fight. Councillor Guion was openly warmongering. He tried not to think that the future of his country now came down to Laurent, talking.
He understood that these border lords represented the heart of the Regent’s faction. They were of his generation. They would have spent the last six years receiving his favours. And with land here on the border they had the most to lose from the uncertain leadership of a young, untried prince.
As he walked, he let his eyes pass over the walls of the fort. Ravenel’s Captain had them manned in meticulous formation. He saw excellent sentry postings and well-organised defences.
‘You. What are you doing here?’
‘I’m part of the Prince’s Guard. I’m returning to the barracks on his orders.’
‘You’re on the wrong side of the fort.’
Damen let his brows rise on a wide-eyed expression, and pointed. ‘That’s west?’
The soldier said, ‘That’s west.’ A gesture to one of the soldiers nearby. ‘Escort this man to the barracks where the Prince’s men are stationed.’ In the next moment, a firm grip on his upper arm.
He was steered with personal attention all the way to the entry to the barracks, where he was deposited in front of Huet, who was on watch. ‘Keep him from wandering off again.’
Huet grinned. ‘Lose your way?’
‘Yes.’
The grin continued. ‘Too tired to concentrate?’
/> ‘I wasn’t given directions.’
‘I see.’ Grin.
And, of course, there was this. From Aimeric, growing in the retelling since this morning, had risen a very particular tale. Damen had been receiving grins and slaps on the back all day. Laurent was the recipient meanwhile of newly appreciative looks. Laurent had risen yet another notch in the esteem of the men, now that they understood that whatever they had previously assumed of his habits in bed, the Prince clearly galloped his barbarian slave under a tight rein.
Damen ignored it. It was not the time for trivial matters.
Jord looked surprised to see him returned so quickly, but said that Paschal had asked for someone to be assigned to him, which should suit Damen, since the Prince would likely be all night, knocking sense into hard border heads.
He should have realised, before he walked into the long room, what he’d been sent to do.
‘Jord sent you?’ said Paschal. ‘He has a sense of irony.’
‘I can go,’ said Damen.
‘No. I asked for someone with strong arms. Boil some water.’
He boiled water and brought it to Paschal, who was engaged in the business of holding men together after they had been cut apart.
Damen kept his mouth shut and simply performed the tasks as Paschal directed. One of the men had his clothes folded open over a wound to his shoulder, too near the neck. Damen recognised the diagonal downward slice that Akielons practised to take advantage of limitations in Veretian armour.
Paschal talked as he worked.
‘A few lowborn survivors from Adric’s retinue were recognised, and brought back. A journey of miles bouncing around on a litter. It brought them the services of the fort physicians, who have done, as you can see, very little. The lowborn who are not soldiers get the least patching. Bring me that knife. Is your stomach as strong as your arms? Hold him down. Like this.’
Damen had seen physicians at work before. As a commander he had done the rounds of the injured. He had also some rudimentary field knowledge of his own, taught to him in case he should ever find himself wounded and separated from his men, which as a boy had been a thrilling prospect, though it had not, in those days, ever been likely. Tonight was the first night he had ever worked alongside a physician trying to keep life inside of men. It was ceaseless, involved and physical.
Once or twice, he glanced at the low stretcher in the shadowed back of the room with a sheet passed over it. After a few hours, the door hanging was pushed open and tied back, as a party entered.