Dutiful was silent as we rode. I kept my knife at his ribs. I do believe that if I had felt the woman take over his body, I would have pushed the blade home. His mind seemed far away. I used the time to assess our captors. There were an even dozen, including Laudwine.

We came at last to a cave cut into the side of a hill. Long ago, someone had added stone walls to extend the space. The remnants of a wooden gate hung drunkenly to one side. Sheep, I thought. It would be a good place to hold sheep at night, with the cave for shelter if rain or snow came too strong. Myblack lifted her head and gave a whinny of greeting to Malta and the three other horses tethered there. I made it fifteen of them, a respectable force to take on, even if there had been more than one of me.

I dismounted with the others and pulled the Prince down after me. He staggered as he landed on his feet and I caught him. His lips were moving as if he whispered to himself, but I heard nothing. His eyes seemed glassy and distant. I set the knife firmly to his throat. “If she tries to take him before the others are freed, I'll still kill him,” I warned them. Laudwine looked surprised by my threat. Then, “Peladine!” he bellowed. In reply, a hunting cat came bounding out of the cave. She fixed me with a hateful stare. Her slow advance toward me was the angry step of a thwarted woman, not a cat's stalk.

The Prince had dropped his gaze to the cat. He said nothing, but I felt the ragged sigh of his breath as it escaped him. Laudwine advanced to the cat and then went down on one knee to speak quietly to her. “I've struck a bargain,” he told her quietly. “If we let his friends go free, he gives us the Prince unscathed. More, he escorts you back to Buckkeep and helps you become accepted there.”

I don't know if some sign of affirmation passed between them, or if Laudwine simply assumed her consent. When he stood, he spoke more loudly. “Inside. Your companions are there.”

I was horribly reluctant to follow him into that cave. Out in the open, we had some small chance of escape. Inside, we would be cornered. The only thing I could promise myself was that they would not get Dutiful. To cut his throat would be the work of an instant. I was not so certain I could give myself a quick death, let alone Nighteyes or the Fool. sv, Within the cave, a small fire burned, and my stomach complained at the smell of roasting meat. A camp of sorts had been pitched there, but to my eyes it had the look of a brigands' den rather than a military encampment. The thought warned me that I should not be entirely confident that Laudwine had control of his people. Because they fol' lowed him did not mean they were subject to him. That cheery thought was entertaining me as I searched the shad' owy interior of the cave while Laudwine was quietly conferring with the folk he had left on guard there. He had not placed anyone in charge of us. All eyes were on him, and I eased away from the crowd. A few noticed my movement, but no one protested it. Jinna's charm still rode outside my shirt and I smiled disarmingly. Obviously, I was going deeper into the cave, not trying to escape to the outdoors. It was another indication of how informal Laudwine's command was. My fear that the Piebalds were some sort of Witted army dissolved into a sickening suspicion that they were actually a Witted mob.

My heart found my friends before my eyes. I saw two huddled shapes on the floor in the back of the cave. I did not ask permission. With my knife at Dutiful's throat, I walked us to them.

Toward the back of the cave, the ceiling dropped and the rock walls narrowed. In that little space, they slept. Their bed was the Fool's cloak, or what remained of that fine garment. Nighteyes sprawled on his side, caught in the sleep of exhaustion. The Fool lay beside him, his body curled protectively around the wolf's. They were both filthy. The Fool had a strip of bandaging tied around his brow. The gold of his skin had gone sallow and one side of his face was marred with bruises. Someone had taken his boots, and his narrow, pale feet looked bruised and vulnerable. The wolf's throat was matted with blood and saliva, and his breathing had a whistle in it.

I wanted to drop to my knees beside them, but I feared to take my knife from Dutiful's throat.

“Wakeup,” I bade them, quietly. “Wake up, you two. I've come back for you.”

The wolf's ears flicked, and then he opened an eye to me. He shifted, trying to lift his head and the stirring woke the Fool, as well. He opened his eyes and stared at me, unbelieving. Despair dragged at his face.

“You have to get up,” I warned him quietly. “I've struck a bargain with the Piebalds, but you'll have to get up and be ready to move. Can you walk? Both of you?”

The Fool had the owlish look of a child awakened in deep night. He sat up stiffly. “I ... what sort of a bargain?” He looked at the charm at my throat, made a small sound, and deliberately pulled his eyes away. Hastily I tugged my collar closed. Let no charm cloud his mind now, no artificial affection make him reluctant to leave when he could.