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Jim; but he had found out long since that both men and women of the fourteenth
century cried as easily as children. And certainly Herrac had reason to do so,
on hearing that his son still lived.
"Help me!" said Jim to the sons. "Help me get his armor off him gently. I'll
see what I can do."
Hearing that a magician promised to use his efforts toward Alan brought the
other sons, even including Sir Giles, out of the fascinated trance with which
they had been staring at their brother. They clustered around Alan and gently
began to get his armor off.
Jim carefully searched Alan's body with his hands, looking for any sign of a
wound, but found none. He took the other's lax wrist and felt for a pulse. It
wasthere, and regular but slow.
He frowned, but quickly erased the frown at the flash of sudden fear in
Herrac's eyes.
"Alan seems perfectly unhurt," said Jim. "The only danger could possibly be
concussion& "
He lifted his head and looked at the two nearest brothers, those who had been
next to Alan when they charged the men-at-arms.
"Did either of you see what happened to Alan? When was he hit by the
man-at-arms he rode against?"
"The man-at-arms hit him once," said Hector, one of the two spoken to. "It
did not look like a hard blow to me, Sir James, but Alan fell immediately out
of his saddle."
"Hmm& " said Jim.
His fingers explored the skull beneath the unruly hair of Alan's head, now
springing back into shape since the helmet had been removed that had squashed
it flat temporarily.
"It could be a concussion," he said again. The other thought that was in his
mind was that there might be something about Alan himself that had caused him
to go into a faint on being hit. But since this took him into an area of
medicine about which he knew nothing at all, and besides could only frighten
the de Mer family without offering any comfort or reassurance, he said nothing
about it.
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"Bring me some water or wine," Jim said.
It was brought. Jim made a few passes over it with one hand, while muttering
under his breath, for the general purpose of cheering his audience with the
thought that something magical in addition to the ordinary moistening of skin
was at work here. Then he took one of the wadded cloths that he carried in a
very unfourteenth-century pocket Angie had sewn on the inside of his shirt,
dipped it in the wine it would be wine, after all, that they brought, of
course, he thought and carefully bathed Alan's face.
For a moment nothing happened; then as the damp cloth continued to moisten
the wan features, Alan's eyes flickered and opened.
"What what is it?" he muttered confusedly. "Father I mean Sir, where am I?"
"On your back on the ground, laddie," saidLachlan loudly, "after being
knocked out by one of the MacDougall's men.Y'recollect that now?"
"Yes& yes& I remember." Alan's eyes looked around him, and fastened on his
father. Herrac darted forth a hand and caught the nearest hand of his eldest
son.
"Alan!" he said. "You're all right!"
"Why, yes, Father," said Alan. "I never felt better in my life. Forgive me
for lying down like this to talk to you "
He sat up and suddenly clutched at his head with both hands.
"What is it!" cried Herrac.
"A headache, Father& " said Alan between his teeth. "A headache I did not
expect, that is all."
Jim took hold of the young man's shoulders and pushed them gently back to the
ground.
"Lie still for a while longer," he said. "Someone fetch me a jacket or
something from one of those dead men or prisoners of ours." He was a little
surprised even as he spoke to hear the callousness of his own voice. But a
couple of years here had changed him. "Then bring me any other coverings you
can find, so that we can keep Alan warm for a little while while he lies
still. We'll wait and see if that headache doesn't get better."
"It's nothing, Sir James," said Alan on the ground. "I'm ashamed to have
mentioned it. Let me up
"Stay where you are!" said Herrac. "Whatever Sir James says, do!"
"Yes, Father," said Alan, lying back against the roll of unidentifiable cloth
that had been placed under his head by one of his brothers.
These others were now busily undressing both the dead men and the groom, who
was not dead but had one arm hanging limply; and his ax was stuck in a tree
about ten feet from the road, as if it had been thrown there by a practiced
hand undoubtedly Lachlan's.
"Sir Herrac," said Jim, getting to his feet, "perhaps you'd be good enough to
stay with Alan for the moment, while the rest of us look into other things
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that need to be done here?Lachlan , I think we should talk to this
MacDougall."
"Aye.That we should!" saidLachlan , with what Jim could only interpret as a
very evil grin.Lachlan was testing the point of his poignard with his other
hand.
"I said 'talk' only!" said Jim. "Come along with me.You too, Giles."
Leaving Sir Herrac with Alan and his other sons, Jim walked forward to the
MacDougall, who was still sitting his horse and facing forward toward a
motionless, gleaming, iron figure that was young Christopher. The
sixteen-year-old had kept his word. He looked to have not moved a muscle; and
to Jim, now on foot as they moved toward him to reach MacDougall, Herrac's
youngest son did indeed make a dangerous-looking sight, blocking the trail
with leveled lance.
They reached the man in the golden surcoat. He turned his head to look down
at the two of them.
"Well now, Ewen," saidLachlan , in a tone of satisfaction before Jim could
get a word in edgewise. "It looks like you'll be paying us a visit!"
"Sir," said Jim, "whatever your rank "
"He's called one of these new-fangled Viscounts,"Lachlan put in.
"M'Lord MacDougall," said Jim, "I am Sir James Eckert, Baron de Bois de
Malencontri. You are my prisoner. Step down from that horse."
"And most quickly, Ewen," saidLachlan , testing the point of his poignard
again. "Ah, but I'd much recommend that you do so with speed."
MacDougall swung down from his horse, however, in leisurely fashion.
Standing, he made less of an impressive figure, since he was a good four
inches shorter than Jim, and at least two inches shorter thanLachlan . But his
thin face with the high cheek bones was heavily marked with contempt.
"There are footpads on every road these days, it seems," he murmured and his
hand slid in under his surcoat. The point of Lachlan's poignard was
immediately at his throat; and his hand stopped.
"It was a kerchief only I was reaching for," said MacDougall softly, slowly
pulling out a wispy piece of cloth that would seem more likely to be carried
by a woman. A faint scent of perfume wafted from it. "There seems a damned
smell around here, for some reason."
"Go on like that," saidLachlan dangerously, "and you'll have no nose to smell
with. Did you pay no attention to the name of the man who holds you prisoner?
It's Sir James Eckert the Dragon Knight."
Jim was completely unprepared for the result these words produced.
MacDougall's composure fell apart.
"The Dragon Knight?" stammered MacDougall."The& the sorcerer?"
"MAGICIAN!" exploded Jim, suddenly unreasonably angry. "The next man that
uses the word 'sorcerer' to me is going to wish he hadn't!"
"Yes, yes, Sir James!" said MacDougall in a trembling voice. His face had
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gone as white as Alan's had been when his helmet had been taken off."Of
course, m'Lord Magician. I am your prisoner, of course. What is your will?"
Jim thought quickly. He glanced back at the knot of de Mers still clustered
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