Despite my words, he scrabbled faintly at the ground, as if he would get up. “Bushwhacked me. Four of them. My papers?”

I looked around. A few feet away, I saw a dark shape on the ground. It proved to be a satchel. Near it I found a muddied book and a handful of trampled papers. I gathered them up by touch and brought them back to him. “I have your papers,” I told him.

He made no response.

“Lieutenant Tiber?”

“He’s passed out,” a voice said. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Sergeant Duril would have done more than hit me with a rock if he’d been there. I’d been completely oblivious to the three figures who had walked up on me in the pouring rain.

“Drunk as a beggar,” said the man behind me and to my left. I turned my head to see him but he took a couple of steps back. I couldn’t make out his face, but his voice was almost familiar. I’d caught a glimpse of his jacket under his coat. He was a cadet. “We saw him arrive here. Carriage brought him from town. He staggered this far and passed out.”

If I hadn’t been kneeling by Tiber, I don’t think I would have made the connection. I was coldly certain of it now. The cadet talking to me was the third-year, Jaris, the one who had ordered me to strip during initiation.

I said a foolhardy thing. I only realized it when the words were out of my mouth. “He said he was ambushed by four men.”

“He talked to you?” Dismay was clear in the voice of the third man. I didn’t recognize his voice at all. It was shrill with alarm.

“What did he say?” demanded Cadet Ordo. The pieces of the puzzle were fitting in all around me, and I didn’t like the picture they made. “What did he tell you?” Ordo demanded, coming closer. I realized he didn’t care if I recognized him or not.

“Just that. That four men had jumped him.” My voice shook. I was shivering with cold, but icy fear was also creeping up my spine.

“Well, but he’s drunk! Who could believe a thing he said? Why don’t you run along, Cadet? We’ll get help for him.”

“Caulder’s already gone for help,” I pointed out. I was almost certain they knew that. “He’s the one who sent me here,” I added more boldly, and then could not decide if that was a wise thing to say or not. I doubted Caulder would give witness against them if they dragged me off, killed me, and threw me in the river. In the pouring rain and cold wind, with Tiber dead or unconscious before me, it did not seem such an impossible thing that they might kill me. I wanted so badly to stand up, brush the mud from my knees, and tell them I was going back to my dormitory. Yet if I was not coward enough to leave Tiber there, I was also not brave enough to voice what I suspected. They’d seen him get out of the carriage, noticed he was drunk, and known that in that condition, he was no match for them.

“Go home, Cadet Burvelle,” Ordo quietly commanded me. “We have things under control here.”

Coincidence saved me from having to decide if I was a man or a coward that night. I heard the rasp of hurrying feet on the walkway. Through the rain and dark I made out the figure of Dr. Amicas. He was carrying a lantern and it made a small circle of light around him as he came. Two brawnier men followed him, carrying a stretcher between them. The relief that surged though me weakened my knees, and I felt lucky I wasn’t standing. I waved my arm over my head and called out loudly, “Over here! Cadet Lieutenant Tiber is hurt.”

“We think he got beat up in town and then came home here in a carriage and passed out. He’s drunk.” All of this was volunteered by Cadet Ordo. I expected to hear the others confirm it, but when I looked around, they were gone.

“Out of the way, boy!” Dr. Amicas commanded me. I moved to one side, and he set his lantern on the ground beside Tiber. “This is bad,” he said at first sight of Tiber’s face. The doctor was still puffing from his trot here. I turned aside, thinking I might be sick. A blow from something had split Tiber’s scalp and it was sagging open over his ear. “Did he speak to you?”

“He was unconscious when we found him,” Ordo volunteered quickly.

The doctor was not a dull-witted man. “I thought you said he came here in a carriage. Surely the driver didn’t carry an unconscious cadet over here and dump him before he left?” Hard, cold skepticism was in the doctor’s voice. It made me brave enough to speak.

“He talked to me a little bit, when I first got here. When we were taking Gord back to Carneston House, Caulder ran past us. He said someone was hurt. So I came here, thinking I might be able to help. He was conscious when I got here. He said he wasn’t drunk. And that four men had attacked him. And he asked me to be sure his papers were safe.”