Tala jumped away from Gareth before he could plunge the knife into her back, perhaps remembering that you weren't supposed to fear death if you believed in an afterlife and that God might look favourably on him if he killed a witch before dying. Gareth's faith apparently wasn't that strong, though, because he held out the knife to her with trembling, bloodstained fingers. Tala thought for a moment about just running away before the Crone could find her again, but she couldn't leave an injured man. It just wasn't in her to do it. She took the knife, therefore, and began cutting the robe into strips.

     She then helped Gareth to take off his shirt of chain mail. "Lot of good this thing did you," she said, looking at the broken rings where the weapon had punched right through. "I thought these things were supposed to stop knives and swords."

     "The knife was pointed," Gareth replied as Tala then helped him remove his padded undershirt. "Chain mail is designed to stop slashing blows but a thrust from a pointed weapon will get through. All the force is taken by just a couple of rings, you see, and they break. It doesn't help when the treasurer is too stingy to buy good quality armour. I suppose they think witches aren't going to fight back."

     Tala smiled with bitter amusement. "No, I suppose you don't need the best armour for victimising women and girls." She examined the wound. Narrow and deep, but so far as she could tell it had gone in at an angle. If it had missed his vitals he might live if she could stop the bleeding and prevent infection. She rolled one of the makeshift bandages into a ball and told Gareth to hold it in place while she wrapped the other around his body. She tied it as tightly as she could so that the ball was putting pressure on the injury.

     "The women and girls are witches," Gareth pointed out. "They might not fight with swords and daggers but they hurt people in other ways."

     "Because they're evil," said Tala.

     "Right."

     "Is that why I'm doing this? Because I'm evil?"

     "Because you need my protection. One of those men is still alive."

     "You're not much use for protection in your present state."

     "Give me a few minutes to regained my strength..."

     "You idiot," said Tala. "You do anything energetic before I've cauterised that wound and you'll start bleeding again. You'll be dead before he gets the chance to stab you. You got a flint and steel?"

     "The pouch on my belt."

     Tala opened the pouch and found a firestarting kit. She put a small pile of tinder on the ground and began making sparks with the flint and steel. "So what happened in there?" she asked. "Is the witch dead?"

     "She ran off the same time you did. I don't know where she went."

     "But you killed one of the men?"

     "The older one, yes. Unfortunately the son got me the same time I got the father. I'm assuming they were father and son anyway. They looked similar."

     "They were, yes. And now he's going to be coming after you for killing his dad."

     Gareth nodded. "So where is he?" he asked, glancing around into the forest.

     "Probably guarding the Crone while she recovers," Tala replied, still striking sparks. It had been a long time since she'd done this and she was out of practice. "She was exhausted. Probably needs to sleep to get her strength back. I'm guessing she told Bronn to watch over her while she's unable to defend herself."

     "What was she doing to get so exhausted?"

     "She's dying. She wanted to cheat death by transferring her soul into my body. I'm guessing the preparations were pretty strenuous."

     Gareth gave a sardonic chuckle. "No honour among thieves, eh? I wondered why you both had your hands tied. Evil attacks even other evils. That's why good will always win."

     "Call me evil again and I'll just go. You can start your own fire." There was smoke rising from the tinder, though. Tala hurriedly pushed it all into one lump and blew gently on it. A tiny flame appeared. She let it grow for a moment, then began putting twigs and dry leaves on it.

     "You are evil. You're a witch."

     "So what have I done that's evil? Is it evil to try to save your life?" She pulled herself upright onto her knees and looked around at him. "If I'm right, it's going to be a few hours before either the Crone or her underling will be coming after us. I could use that time to get clean away. She'd have to search the whole country to find me again. Instead I'm here, trying to save you life. Why would I do that if I'm evil?"

     "No doubt you have your reasons. The motives of the sinful and wicked can be hard for the pure hearted to understand."

     "Or perhaps I'm not evil. Have you considered that?"

     "You are a witch, are you not?"

     "Maybe not all witches are evil. Maybe some of us are just ordinary people born with abilities we didn't ask for. Witches were revered as advisors and healers for centuries before Roderick tried to use us in his wars."

     "You refused to help defend the Kingdom. That's evil right there."

     "No, that's pacifism, you idiot. We didn't want innocent animals to become tools of war."

     "Animals are already tools of war. Horses, messenger pigeons... Think of the lives you could save if you stopped a battle by killing an enemy General. No other country has witches. Think of the advantage that could give us. We could spread our values across the whole world. Everyone, everywhere united under one benevolent ruler. A new golden age. No wonder you resisted it."

     The fire was burning quite nicely now. Tala took the knife back and held it in the flames. "And when we said no, you benevolently hunted us and stoned us to death."

     "When we examined you more closely we saw what you'd been hiding from us all those years. We saw what you really were."

     "Roderick made up stories about us to justify his pogrom, for revenge. Because he was petty and spiteful and didn't like being told no. And his son is no different."

     "That's treason. Your very words betray you."

     "Oh shut up." The blade would take a while to get hot enough, she knew, so she left it lying on the ground with its blade in the flames while she searched around for more wood to add. Soon they had quite a camp fire going and Tala picked up the knife again before the handle caught fire. The blade was turning an iridescent spectrum of colours, she saw, and she moved it into a hotter part of the fire.

     <I can see her,> she heard an animal saying. <She's with an injured male.>

     There was no reply from the Crone. She must still be sleeping off her exertions, Tala thought. If she'd set an animal to track them before going to sleep, though, it would betray their location the moment she woke up. They had to get rid of it somehow.

     It had sounded like a bird so she looked around at the trees around them and saw a large black crow staring at her with its evil red eyes. <Go away,> she told it.

     <Can't,> the crow replied. <Mistress told me to follow you.>

     <Your mistress will be asleep you hours yet. You'll get hungry. You can't hunt and follow us at the same time.>

     <Course I can. There's food everywhere. Maybe your friend will die and I can have his eyeballs.>

     <He's not going to die. Look, would you like to be my friend?>

     <Have you got any food?>

     <No, but I can get some. Cooked food. You like cooked food, don't you?>

     The crow's eyes glittered with desire. <Fire food! Yes, but you haven't got any.>

     <I can get some. I can stop at the next house we pass and get some. Then we'll give it to you if you stop following us.>

     <Get me the food first. Then I'll think about it.>

     Tala cursed under her breath. They wouldn't be stopping at any houses. Gareth would recruit the householders as deputies and have them hold her prisoner while someone went to the nearest large town for reinforcements. She could drop Gareth off at the house, though, to be looked after while she made her getaway, but that would still leave her having to deal with the crow.

     "What's going on?" asked Gareth. He seemed to be getting some of his colour back as he rested, but that wouldn't last, she knew. He would take a turn for the worse the moment they moved.

     "Nothing," Tala replied. She checked the knife again. It was now glowing a dull red. Soon it would be ready.

     "You were talking to the animals, weren't you? Gathering them to be your army, like the rats."

     "If I could gather animals into an army I don't think you would have caught me so easily."

     "So what were you doing?"

     "The Crone's set a crow to trail us. Lead her right to us when she wakes up."

     "So get rid of it."

     "I'm trying to think of a way."

     Starlings had been known to mob crows, she knew. If a crow tried to steal a starling chick the entire flock would attack with fury, either killing it or driving it away. The starlings wouldn't attack the crow just because she asked them to, though. They would be too afraid of the larger bird's beak and claws. But perhaps... An idea began to creep into her head and she let it ferment there while she checked the knife again. It was ready, she saw. The blade glowing cherry red.

     "Let's see that wound again," she said as she removed the bandages. Gareth was looking pale as he stared af the knife with wide eyes. He knew how much it was going to hurt.

     The wound was crusted with dried blood, which was good, but there was probably still bleeding going on inside and there was almost certainly an infection taking root. Cauterising would, hopefully, cure both problems. She picked up the knife again. "Ready?" she asked.

     "Just do it," the Knight replied. His hands were clenched into fists in anticipation.

     "Try to hold still. Okay?"

     "I'll try."

     "Okay. On three. One..."

     She jabbed the glowing knife into the wound and Gareth screamed. His body convulsed and he gripped her wrist with one brawny hand to pull the knife out again. Tala kept the knife pressed in, though, using muscles grown strong from working her own small plot of land outside her old cottage. His hand was squeezing with all his strength, though, as if he were trying to crush the bones of her wrist. She ignored the pain as she kept the knife in place long enough to do the job.

     Wisps of smoke were rising from Gareth's wound when she withdrew the knife. The air smelled of cooked meat. She dropped it and massaged her wrist before replacing the bandages. "How does it feel?" she asked.

     "How do you think?" he gasped back.

     "Yeah. Sorry."

     He saw her massaging her wrist again. "Sorry I hurt you," he said.

     Tala gave a bitter laugh. "You were taking me to be stoned to death but you're sorry you hurt my wrist?"

     "You know what I mean."

     "No, I don't," said Tala, suddenly angry. "What did you mean?"

     Gareth looked away, though, unable to meet her eyes and Tala swore under her breath. "Time we were getting out of here," she said. "Think you can walk?"

     "Yes."

     Tala wasn't quite as sure but they had no choice. If he was still sitting against the tree when night fell the cold would kill him. Movement would keep him alive, but he didn't have the strength to go far on his own. Tala would have to help him get to a busy road where a traveller would be sure to find him. Then she could leave him with a clear conscience and make her getaway.

     She helped him back into his clothes, therefore, then kicked out the fire, making sure every last spark was extinguished. Then she took hold of his arm and helped him to his feet. "I know you're only doing this for your own reasons," he said as he put an arm around her shoulder. She put her own arm around his waist to support him. "Somehow, in some way, keeping me alive serves your evil schemes."

     "Think what you like," Tala replied. She took a few steps and Gareth hobbled along beside her, wincing with pain with every step.

     "Where are we going?" the Knight asked.

     "The Fessiwell road runs somewhere to the west of us. There's a lot of traffic along it. Someone will find you and take you into town to find a healer."

     "And that'll be the last I see of you?"

     "Unless they catch me and invite you to the stoning. They might think you'll have a special interesting in seeing me dead. They might even make you throw the first stone to make sure you haven't developed any inappropriate affections for me."

     "No danger of that. I know you're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

     "There's no fooling you, is there?"

     Gareth said nothing more after that, except to wince with pain with every step they took as they made their way through the dense, overgrown forest.