He nodded.

"Oh good Christ, Razi. What...?"

A woman called out down by Ashkr's tent. They were not alone! Another voice answered the first and there was the unmistakable sound of two people conversing as one walked towards the other.

Wynter jerked her head, Get out of there, and Razi carefully secured everything before replacing the portfolio and leaving the tent.

Hallvor was crouched in the shade of Ashkr's tent, plaiting cured willow bark into cord and humming quietly to herself. Two other women sat with her, their swords across their knees, playing knuckle bones. The three of them rose to their feet at Razi and Wynter's approach.

"How is Solmundr?" asked Razi, bowing politely.

The two guardswomen glanced at Hallvor, and she gestured to them to go back to their game. Reluctantly they crouched down into the shade, their eyes on Razi and Wynter. Hallvor led them away from the women, guiding them to the door of the tent. The sun beat down viciously here, the dry ground crackling underfoot.

"Solmundr?" Razi asked again, looking into the healer's dark eyes.

Hallvor compressed her mouth and her jaw tightened. "Ni se go maith," she said, shaking her head. "Ni... ni... " she stopped talking and sighed in frustration, knowing full well that Razi and Wynter couldn't understand her. She gestured helplessly, looking around as if for inspiration. Wynter shaded her eyes, trying to read her distressed face. "Solmundr," Hallvor said. "Ni ..." she cupped her hands and brought them to her mouth, in a drinking gesture. Then she shook her head.

"He will not drink?" asked Razi, repeating her motion with a slurping sound. Hallvor nodded. Razi grimaced." 'Tis too damn hot for that," he said. "Can we go inside?" He motioned ducking in under the door, and Hallvor shooed the two of them ahead of her, pushing in after them and closing the door in her wake.

The ventilation flaps had been opened in the roof and the tent was cool and shady. The smoke of a little fire basin kept away the flies. Solmundr was propped up in his bed, lying back against a deer-hide stuffed with straw. His knees were drawn up under the furs, and his eyes were shut, his white face motionless, his hands lifeless in his lap.

Hallvor crouched down at the foot of the pallet and anxiously scanned Solmundr's face. Razi and Wynter moved to the head of the bed.

"Hello, Sol," said Razi, kneeling and taking Solmundr's hand. "I hear you're being a stupid dung-head." The weathered face creased into a smile, and Wynter saw a flash of the goodnatured man that they had met at the tavern. She knelt down by Razi's side, as Solmundr slit his eyes to look at them.

"Tabiyb," he rasped. "You cured my agony. Your hands are gift to the world." Wynter could see Razi's precious opium in the unfocused spread of Solmundr's pupils. She could smell it on his breath. We can use this if we are careful, she thought. We can take advantage of his confusion to get the information we seek.

Razi grunted, holding the wiry man's wrist between his fingers, counting his heartbeats. "Do not insult me with hollow flattery, if your intent is to kill yourself with neglect," he growled mildly. Solmundr chuffed a tiny laugh and his eyes slipped shut. Razi pushed the covers down and loosened his bandages. "Coinin tells me that you have work to do here," he murmured, lifting the bindings and looking at the wound. "Yet you refuse to get well. You are too lazy to fulfil your duty to your people? Is that it?"

Solmundr turned his face away, clenching his fists at Razi's touch.

"A pox on my people," he said softly.

Wynter and Razi glanced at him, shocked, but Solmundr hardly seemed aware of what he was saying. He opened his eyes and stared at the wall of the tent. The painted silhouette of a lamb shivered in the breeze, sleeping peacefully beneath the splayed forepaws of a great bear. "A pox on them," he breathed, "and their ways. Let Ulfnaor deliver that bitch's papers without me. Let him dance to beat of her drum. I not go no further."

Wynter and Razi glanced at Hallvor, but her eyes were on Razi, watching as he checked for infection. Razi began to bind the wound again, nodding reassuringly to Hallvor. "Those papers are important, Solmundr," chanced Razi, glancing at Wynter. "Surely you know this. Surely it matters to you that they get through."

Solmundr frowned at the little painted lamb. "Nothing matter. Nothing ever mattered except him. Now I useless. Cannot keep even my final promise ..." He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face with his hand.

"Well, it did not take him long to replace you," said Wynter with a flash of inspiration. "Christopher has already taken your place at his side. He has accompanied him to the ceremony." She had hoped for jealousy, thought it might spur Solmundr to anger and jolt him to life, but to her amazement, when Solmundr whipped back his hand and stared at her, it was hope she saw in his eyes.

"Coinin?" he breathed. "Coinin takes my place?"

Hallvor looked sharply at him. "Sol?" she asked.

"Hally," he said, "Togfaidh Coinin m'aitse?"

Hallvor's eyes welled up and she nodded reluctantly. She murmured something about Ashkr, something that made her hang her head in shame.

Solmundr laughed. "Oh," he said. He scrubbed at his eyes. His breath hitched. "Oh, they did not tell me! They thought it would to hurt me. Oh, Iseult!" He sat forward suddenly and grabbed Wynter's hand.

"Be careful, man!" cried Razi. "You will burst your stitches!"

Solmundr flopped back against the cushion, dragging Wynter forward as he clutched her hand to his chest, his eyes closed. Then he licked his dry lips and glanced at Hallvor. "A chroi," he whispered. "Rud eigin le hol."

Hallvor's solemn face cracked into a grin and she leapt to her feet. She grabbed Wynter and Razi around their shoulders, squeezing them together with shocking strength. "Buiochas leat, "she whispered into Wynter's hair. "Buiochas, a luichin."

Wynter was suddenly reminded of Marni, and the memory of that fierce, gigantic woman brought a momentary lump to her throat. She swallowed down on the unexpected emotion and nodded, patting Hallvor on her sinewy forearm. The dark-haired woman broke away and strode to the door, disappearing for a moment, and returning with a waterskin and three wooden beakers.

Solmundr accepted the water with obvious thirst, and Hallvor stroked his hair and his strong arms and patted his back as he drank. Eventually he lay back against the cushions, his face weary, hunched slightly with the pain of his wound.

"So," said Razi, eyeing Solmundr. "I have not wasted my good sutures, my priceless opium and my precious time on a man who is determined to die, then, have I, Sol?"

Solmundr just smiled in reply. "Coinin will take my place?" he asked. "He will stand by Ashkr?"

Razi glanced at Wynter. "He is in the forest now," she said evasively. "He fulfils your duty as we speak."

Solmundr shifted carefully in the bed. "I must speak to him," he murmured. "But somehow, I think ..." He smiled up at the ceiling. "Aye, Coinin is a good man."

"And what of your other duties?" asked Razi. "You will not be fit to travel for at least a fortnight and even then only very slowly. It is vital, surely, that those papers get through? How long do you have before they must be delivered?"

Wynter watched suspicion seep through the drug that was addling Solmundr's mind. Slowly, his expression hardened as he searched Razi's face. To his credit, Razi didn't turn away and his dark eyes remained steadfastly on Solmundr's.

"Who are you, Tabiyb?" asked Solmundr softly. "Why for you ask me this questions about papers?"

"I am your doctor, Sol," answered Razi. "I do not want you getting on a horse and ending up with your guts spilled out across your saddle. Those stitches will not stand up to hard travel. Even if your people were to strap you to a travois I could not-"

"It not your worry," interrupted Solmundr. "You not speak of it again, ta go maith?"

Razi licked his lips and dropped his eyes. Solmundr glanced at Hallvor who was gesturing innocently to Wynter that she should drink some water. Wynter smiled and accepted, all her attention on the men's low, carefully modulated conversation.

"You know what it is to be blood-eagled, Tabiyb?" asked Solmundr.

Razi eyelids fluttered at the thought of that terrible torture. He nodded. Wynter stared at Solmundr. Her throat clicked around the mouthful of water she was trying to swallow. Blood-eagled, good God.

"My people," murmured Solmundr, "this is what we do with spies. yes? Blood-eagle. I not like see that happen you, Tabiyb." He looked deep into Razi's brown eyes and the light tone of his voice belied the edge of iron in his face. "It not nice way to die," he said.

"I won't mention it again," whispered Razi.

"Good," nodded Solmundr. "I think that good." There was a moment of uneasy silence, during which Hallvor glanced between the three of them, her dark eyes questioning.

Solmundr laid his head back against the hide cushion, watching Razi closely. "You play chess, Tabiyb?" he asked. "I suspect you do. I suspect you play very good, yes?" Razi nodded, and Solmundr's face creased into that charming gap toothed smile. "But not so good as me, I think," he said. "I think I get Hallvor to fetch my board, yes, Tabiyb? And we play. We play many game together, you and me... and your little sister, she stay and watch, yes?"

Solmundr turned his attention to Wynter. Although he was exhausted, his eyes sliding in and out of focus, she still felt like an insect under glass when he looked at her. "I not think it good idea," he said, "I not think it safe, that you two be all alone in this big empty camp. I not like to think that you make mistake. Maybe go in wrong tent, maybe pick up wrong thing. And be accused of spies."

Oh God, thought Wynter, oh my God. Razi reached for her hand.

"You not worry, Tabiyb," Solmundr said. "I keep you out of trouble. Nice and safe, here by my bed. I play with you the chess, till the others come back from forest." He lost his smile for a moment. "Yes, Tabiyb?"

Razi sat rigid and staring, his hand tight on Wynter's. He nodded stiffly. "Yes," he said. "Yes, Solmundr. Let's play chess."

Seeing.

"It is still your move," murmured Razi softly.

Solmundr rolled his eyes open and licked his lips, peering at the board. They had made less than seven moves in two hours. Still, Solmundr clung tenaciously to consciousness, shoving his pieces clumsily into place with shaky, sweat-soaked fingers.

Wynter reclined against the furs of Solmundr's bed, her head supported on a roll of hide, her knees bent to ease the pain in her back. She passed the time watching the painted silhouettes on the tent, and worrying about Christopher. The breeze was quite high, and it snapped and shivered at the hide coverings, making the lodge poles creak.

"You beat me this game, I think," rasped Solmundr, pushing a rook into place and slumping back against his hide cushion.

Razi grunted and surveyed the board. "Hmm," he said. "And all it took was filling you with opium and removing a portion of your intestines." He hesitated, his hand hovering over the game, then moved his knight and sat back, eyeing Solmundr with sly amusement. "Your move."

Solmundr glanced at Razi's face, then frowned suspiciously at the board. It took him a moment, and then he growled and flung up his hand in disgust. "Cac," he said. Razi chuckled.

At that moment Hallvor called from outside the tent and the silhouettes of the guardswomen leapt to their feet and rushed off.

Solmundr curled forward with a grunt, suddenly brisk and dismissive. "Leave now, he gasped sharply, "Ash will need sleep." He reached behind him, groaning with pain at the effort. Razi moved to help, but Solmundr pushed him away. "No," he said. "Out, out." He pulled a waterskin across his lap and took a little parcel from beside the bed. He began unwrappi said. "Out, out." He pulled a waterskin across his lap and took a little parcel from beside the bed. He began unwrapping it, and Wynter saw that it was a bundle of oat cakes. From outside, the sounds of people talking quietly came drifting across the buffeting air.

"They're back!" cried Wynter, scrambling to her feet.

Razi stood up. Solmundr glanced at the way he was clutching the hilt of his sword.

"You not worry," he said. "It not danger for your family now." The two men stared at each other. "I swears it, Tabyib." Razi loosened his grip on the sword, pushing it back on his hip. Solmundr nodded and went back to unwrapping the oat cakes.

"I look after Ash now," he said, laying the food by the side of his bed. "Ulfnaor will take Embla to his puballmor." He chuckled at the look this brought to Razi's face. "He and Hallvor take care of her," he said reassuringly. Razi reddened and looked away.

Solmundr grew serious again. He handed Wynter three of the oat cakes. "You mind Coinin now, Iseult," he said.

"What?" said Wynter, gazing at the oat cakes, her eyes wide. Why?" she said, in alarm. "What's wrong with him?"

"He all right in very short time," said Solmundr, his attention already turning back to his own preparations. "Just need sleep. Let him eat if hungry, and you make sure he drink many water, ta go maith?" Solmundr turned painfully, one hand pressed to his wound, the other turning back the covers on Ashkr's side of the bed. "Out," he grunted. "Now."

Razi spun for the door, his face grim. Long shadows moved against the wall, and before he or Wynter could get out, the flap was dragged back and two men entered the tent. Ashkr was supported limply between them and the men pushed past Razi and Wynter as they helped their lord around to his side of the bed. Solmundr gazed up at them, questioning them. They eased Ashkr down onto the pallet, pulling off his boots and gently removing his tunic.

Razi and Wynter stood motionless for a moment, frozen by the blond man's condition. Solmundr was talking softly to him, rubbing his shoulders and his back, anxiously pulling his limp hair from his sweating face, but it wasn't clear whether Ashkr even knew where he was. He was gazing up at the tent walls, his face lax and distressed, his breathing a little too fast.

Razi took in Ashkr's bloodless, clammy skin, the spread of his unfocused pupils, and he growled a curse in Arabic. Solmundr glared at him. "Out!" he rasped.

Razi ducked under the flap and Wynter followed, the little oat cakes crumbling in her hand. Ashkr's hounds were snuffling about outside the tent. Razi shoved them away with barely a glance. They whined and skipped aside, then went back to sniffing forlornly at the door. Razi and Wynter stood side by side, shading their eyes against the blazing sun, looking around for their friend.

The Merron were milling about, talking softly amongst themselves, and Wynter scanned their ranks for Christopher. Suddenly, she caught sight of his familiar figure through the shifting crowd and she was flooded with relief. He was standing on his own two feet, supporting his own weight, talking to Wari and his woman and the two older musicians from the tavern.

"Razi," she said, gripping his arm. "There he is."

Razi snapped his head around, and Wynter felt him relax as he spotted Christopher. "Good God," he breathed. "I'll kill him. Come on, sis, let us-"

"Tabiyb." Embla's rich voice stopped them in their tracks and they turned to see her break away from Ulfnaor's protective arm and stumble in their direction. The crowd parted respectfully for her, and Ulfnaor and Hallvor followed in her wake, their hands anxiously poised. She came to a swaying halt in front of Razi, her unfocused eyes gravely scanning his face.

"Embla," he said. "What have you done to yourself?" He put his hand to her clammy face. Her eyes were all pupil, the navy irises pushed to the very edge of the blackness, and her skin was shining like wet marble. "Look at you!"

Uncertainly, Embla spread her hands against Razi's chest, and her eyes narrowed. "Tabiyb?"

Razi ran his thumb under Embla's eye and shook his head in disapproval and concern. Wynter flicked a nervous glance at Ulfnaor and Hallvor. They had come up behind the couple, crooning in Merron, laying comforting hands on Embla's shoulders. Gently, Ulfnaor took the tall woman by her elbows and murmured soothingly as he turned her away from Razi. "It all right, Tabiyb," he said kindly. "We take care of her now." Embla went with them placidly enough, but she couldn't take her eyes from Razi, and she continued to strain her neck to keep him in sight as Hallvor and Ulfnaor led her away through the tents.

Wynter took Razi's elbow. "Come on, brother," she whispered. "Let's get Christopher."

Their friend was still standing at the edge of the crowd, chatting. Everything seemed normal, but as they approached, Wynter noticed Wari's croi-eile take the big man by the elbow and begin to lead him away. As he turned, Wari stumbled and his woman had to put her hand on his chest to steady him. Wynter felt a little muscle tighten in her jaw. Razi began to push his way forward.

One of the musicians spotted them approaching. She said something, and Christopher turned slowly to look, pushing his hair behind his ear and smiling vaguely.

"What did they give you?" demanded Razi, striding up to the smaller man. "What did they give you, Christopher?" He grabbed Christopher's chin, staring into his spreading pupils, and pressed his fingers to his clammy neck.

Wynter came to an anxious halt by their side, clutching Solmundr's oat cakes to her chest and glowering at the Merron.

"Tog go bog e," said Christopher softly. "Nil me ag eitilt ..."

"Speak properly, Christopher!" snapped Razi. The musicians frowned and stepped forward as one, moving protectively to Christopher's side.

" 'S'all right," Christopher pushed them back. "He's just worried." He smiled, pushing them again, and waved them away. "Go on," he said.

The musicians eyed Razi warily. He glared back. The woman handed Wynter a full waterskin, looking into her eyes and clasping Wynter's hands around the neck of it, as if to show Wynter how important it was.

"All right," Wynter nodded, her eyes flicking to Christopher. The woman pointed to Embla's tent. "Yes," snapped Wynter. "Yes. To lie down, I know." The musicians still looked uncertain, but Christopher shooed them away, and they reluctantly left him in the care of his two glaring coimhthioch friends.

"What. Did. They. Give you?" demanded Razi again.

" 'S'all right, Razi," Christopher licked his lips and looked around vaguely. "I ain't flying, don't worry. I know who I am." He ran a shaking hand over his forehead. "We just held their hands while they flew. Me and Wari, we just held on ..." He closed his eyes. "Oh ..." he said. "Very tired."

Suddenly, Razi grabbed him and swivelled him towards the tent, making him gasp and stagger. "Woooo!" said Christopher, fluttering his hands and blinking around him. "Not a good idea!" he warned.

"Razi!" Wynter slapped his hands away from their friend. "Go easy."

Ignoring her, Razi grabbed them both by an arm each and hustled them to the tent. He shoved them inside and dived after them, pulling the flap shut with a snap. If it had been a wooden door, Wynter thought that he would have kicked it, he was so enraged.

"What happened, Christopher?" said Wynter, eyeing Razi, and gently pushing Christopher down onto the bed. The young man was starting to shake now, sweat beading his upper lip and his eyelids, his pale arms slippery. Remembering what Sol had done for Ashkr, Wynter pulled back the covers of their bed. "In," she ordered, pulling off his boots. "Come on, get in. Under the covers."

Christopher crawled into the centre of the bed and curled into a shivering ball. Wynter huddled the covers over him. "Found out ..." said Christopher. "Merron... carrying papers... destined for your brother."

Razi crossed quickly to hunker by the edge of the furs, his face questioning.

Christopher grinned at him. "Oh," he laughed, his teeth chattering. "We friends again now?"