At the Queen_s command

Pain exploded but didn't slow Owen down. He snapped his head forward, smashing his forehead into the man's face. Bones cracked. Blood gushed over Owen's face. The man staggered back, hands rising to his ruined nose. Owen kicked out, catching him squarely in the groin. The blow lifted the man a foot or so in the air and dumped him, writhing, into the alley.

Rufus roared and Owen spun. The giant had tossed one man off him and rose to his feet. A head taller than Owen, and with shoulders broad enough to fill the alley, Rufus Branch curled his hands into bucket-sized fists.

"You should've stayed in Norisle."

Owen swallowed hard and set himself. He had one chance. A quick kick to a knee, crippling Rufus; then finding something big enough with which to brain him.

All of a sudden Rufus' head snapped forward, accompanied by the sound of a musket-butt being applied as a club. The man staggered and half turned. "Why'd you have to do that, Woods?"

"You're not worth the price of powder to reload." Woods hit him again, catching him in the forehead.

Rufus Branch collapsed.

Woods lowered his gun. "The last of them went running off. He'll bring friends. I'm thinking a retreat's the smart play."

"Agreed." Owen straightened up and felt around his right ear. His fingers came away wet. He stepped over Rufus and followed the Mystrian out of the alley. "You didn't need to intervene."

"I reckon you coulda took Rufus, but he'd agone and busted you up some. The Prince hired me to guide you. Ain't no good if you is crippled."

Owen stopped by a public wellhead and worked the pump, splashing cold water over his head and washing off his face. The shock brought a little clarity, but the aftermath left room for his body to report the aches and pains. Another wave of nausea washed over him, but he choked vomit back.

Nathaniel Woods came around and looked at his ear. "Nasty gash. You'll be needing some sewing to fix half your ear back on. Good thing Mistress Frost is handy with a needle and thread."

Owen straightened up again, sweeping dripping black hair out of his face. "They will be rethinking their offer of hospitality."

"It won't surprise 'em none." Nathaniel shrugged. "Caleb likely told them what to expect after he told me."

Owen looked back toward the alley. "He wasn't…"

"He don't have much truck with the Branches."

The two men moved on through the dark city streets, heading uphill toward the Frost estate. "No love lost between you and Rufus."

"'bout right."

"You said you'd shot him before?"

Nathaniel nodded. "He was needing it. Wanted to shoot him in the head, but it was so far up his hind parts, alls I got was his sitting-down meat."

Owen couldn't tell if Nathaniel was joking or not. He got the very distinct sense that both in the alley and even now, Woods was measuring him. "So, tell me, Mr. Woods. Would you have intervened if it wasn't part of your job?"

Nathaniel Woods stopped in the middle of the street and ran a hand over his angular chin. "I'm thinking I might have. Spoiling Rufus' fun's one of the pleasures of my life."

"You're not afraid of reprisals?"

"Not particularly." Nathaniel started moving again. "I'm thinking he's a lot less favorable on being shot than I am on shooting him."

Owen pressed his handkerchief to the side of his head. "You're not afraid of him shooting you first?"

"He gets close enough to take that shot, I ain't deserving of much more life."

They came to the Frost house. Owen opened the gate and waited for Woods to come in.

Nathaniel shook his head. "Your arrival will cause enough commotion. I'll give you a day to rest, then will meet you at your supply depot."

Owen nodded. "I've already requisitioned supplies."

"So I've heard. We'll get them right when I see you." Nathaniel threw him a brief salute, then backed into the shadows.

The Frosts' front door opened. Caleb held up a lantern and Bethany came running out, skirts gathered in her hands. Though the light only illuminated part of her face, her widening eyes and opening mouth made his head hurt worse.

"Caleb, quickly, help me." Bethany tucked herself beneath Owen's left arm and slipped a hand around his waist. "He's bleeding."

"I can see that." Caleb joined his sister on the other side, and the three of them managed to negotiate the doorway with surprising ease. Without another word between them, they took Owen to the kitchen and sat him in a chair.

The mistress of the house fixed him with an iron stare. "I have seen worse. Bethany, take his jacket, brush it off, and start working on those stains. Caleb…"

Her son held his hands up. "A tot of rum, I know."

"But none for yourself. You're the reason he's in this condition."

Owen shrugged his coat off. "Mrs. Frost, there is nothing Caleb could have done…"

"Captain Strake, I would appreciate it if you do not presume to know Temperance or my son that well. When we learned you were dining with the Prince, we sent Caleb to wait for you. He did not do that."

"He told Nathaniel Woods…"