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crumbs. And there was still a look on his
face, as if having eaten off their charity, he felt there was a chance
something else of hope might happen, but much doubted it.

    "I will tell you," Vanye
said, sinking down on his heels, arms on knees, in front of him, "how I
am. I hold no grudge. A man in the dark and fevered—he may do strange
things. I reckon that this was the case last night. On the other hand,
if you take some other mad notion that endangers my liege, I shall not
hesitate to break your neck, do you understand?"

    The man said nothing at
all. There was only a stare of wary blue eyes, beneath the tangled
hair, and the stink of filth was overwhelming.

    "Now I think you have been
a warrior," Vanye said. "And you do not choose to be filthy or to be a
madman. So I should like to take you down to the water and give you oil
and salve and help you present a better face to my lady, do you
understand me at all, man?"

    "I understand," the man said then, the faintest of voices.

    "So you should know," Vanye
said, taking out his Honor-blade from his belt and beginning to undo
the knots which bound the man's feet, "my lady is herself a very
excellent shot, with weapons you may not like to see—in case you should
think of dealing with me." He freed the knot and unwrapped the leather,
tucking it in his belt to save. "There." With a touch on the man's bare
and swollen right foot. "Ah. That did the swelling no good at all. Can
you walk?—Have you a name, man?"

    "Chei."

    "Chei." Vanye rose and took
his arm, and pulled the man up to take his weight on his left foot,
steadying him as he tried the right. "Mine is Vanye. Nhi Vanye i Chya,
but Vanye is enough outside hold and hall. There. Walk down to the
water. I warn you it is cold. I would have heaved you in last night,
with that gear of yours, except for that. Go on. I will find you down
by the water. I will find you down by the water—or I will find you. Do you hear me?"

    Thoughts of escape passed
through the man's head, it was clear by the wariness in his eyes; then
different thoughts entirely, and fear, the man being evidently no fool.
But Vanye walked away from him, going back after his kit by the fire.

    "Be careful with him!" Morgaine said sharply, as he bent down near her. Her eyes were on the prisoner. But he had been sure of that when he had turned his back.

    Vanye shrugged and sank down a moment to meet her eyes. "Do as I see fit, you said."

    "Do not make gestures."

    He drew a long breath. So
she set him free and then wanted to pull the jesses. It was not her
wont, and it vexed him. But clearly she was worried by something. "Liyo, I
am not in danger of a man lame in one foot, smaller than I am and
starved into the bargain. Not in plain daylight. And I trust your eye
is still on him—"

    "And we do not know this land," she hissed. "We do not know what resources he may have."

    "None of them came to him on that hilltop."

    "Thee is leaving things to
chance! There are possibilities neither of us can foresee in a foreign
place. We do not know what he is."

    Her vehemence put doubt
into him. He bit his lip and got up again. He had never quite let his
own eye leave the man in his walk downhill, save the moment it took to
reach her; but it seemed quibbling to protest that point, the more so
that she had already questioned his judgment, and justly so, last
night. Beyond this it came to opinion; and there were times to argue
with Morgaine. The time that they had a prisoner loose was not that
moment.

    "Aye," he said quietly. "But I will attend him. I will stay in your sight. As long as you see me, everything is well enough."

    He gathered up one of their
blankets for drying in, along with his personal kit. He walked down the
hill, pausing on the way to lay a hand on Siptah's shoulder, where the
big gray and white Arrhan grazed at picket on the grassy slope. He
reckoned that Morgaine would have that small black weapon in hand and
one eye on him constantly.

    It was not