Much later, in darkness, I was awakened by the shocking touch of a blade pressing into my neck.

    "Where is he?" a voice demanded. "Malcolm Reiffert. We know he passed this way."

    "Gone," I said as loudly as I was able, lying still and frozen. They were soldiers, packed close in the small room, holding torches that smoked and cast an orange glow, shading the face of my interrogator and making him appear inhuman.

    "Gone where?"

    "To the mountains."

    "Did he say anything! Anything at all. Speak!"

    "Only something about a message," I croaked. "He did not tell me what it was."

    "If you're lying to me I'll pin you to this bed and you'll die choking on your own blood."

    I believed him. His face was impassive; killing was a job to him. His working day. I believed that he would kill me and would not hesitate, and would repent it no more than I would repent of swatting a fly that buzzed over my plate. I could feel my heart racing in fear, my hands clammy and trembling.

    "I am not lying."

    The point of his blade moved slightly on my skin as he turned to his men. I felt a stinging and a warmth as blood welled and ran down my neck. It was all I could do not to shudder. I had never known so utterly, my choice stolen from me, that I wanted to live.

    "We'll stay here tonight," he told his men. "Gilson, Denning; prepare the camp. And you," he addressed me. "Get up!" He stepped back as he spoke, lowering the sword and gesturing to me to rise.

    I got to my feet, gasping as I put my hand to the cut on my neck, pulling the hand away again with a curse. My fingers were stained rusty red, but though it stung it was only a shallow cut. Nothing but a scrape, a scratch that would heal. Even so I couldn't help picturing the sword flying up to slice deep, and my throat tightened.

    "Which way!" the captain barked. "Which way into the mountains. Did he go North? East?"

    "You need not chase him," I said. "He'll be exposed again tonight. The mountain passes are treacherous - it's likely all you'll find will be his corpse."

    "Treacherous are they?" he said. "Lucky for us we have a local to guide us." He grinned suddenly, showing broken and yellowed teeth

    "But," I said, meaning to add I did not know the way.

    "You'd rather die then?" he interrupted.

    I subsided perforce, thinking bitterly that if the weather didn't kill us all, he would have his sword at my neck soon enough. It hadn't yet snowed, but further up there would be traces of frost and who could predict when the first storm would come? Two of the soldiers dragged me roughly outside to the woodshed, where they tied me and left me. No doubt there was a sentry outside, to see I didn't escape them. They were overestimating me, or underestimating the strength of the knotted ropes that bit into and burned my wrists and ankles.

    There was no comfort, only shivering cold. I waited in misery and slept little, waking often as splinters and sticks and logs tortured me through the long night, bruising and punishing me for every movement. I was jolted awake near dawn, glimmers of gray light filtering through chinks in the roof. Something was happening outside, but all I could hear was muffled voices and the tramp and squelch of their boots. I sat and listened for a long while until the door was forced open and I was dragged out into the cold brightness.

    Standing between the two soldiers I shuddered with cold, my fingers and toes numb, as I saw in silent fury what they had done. My careful, ordered garden had been ravaged, the last of my winter crops ripped up in clotted handfuls. Everywhere the ground was churned and spoiled by heavy, careless boots. If I survived, by some miracle, I would be returning to starvation.

    Seeing the wisdom of having me fit to lead them, they allowed me to dress, freeing my ankles. My wrists were loosed and then tied again in front and I was given bread and water from my own stores. Pitiful; that I had to be given sustenance from my own supplies by the thieves who had stolen them.

    They had two trackers, who went ahead of us as we set off, searching the ground. I stumbled along, my feet still numb. The soldiers surrounded me, silent mostly, speaking only when it was essential. I cursed Malcolm Reiffert, and cursed myself still more for bringing him into my home.

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