that had kept his long hair out of his eyes and tie it tightly about his upper arm, slowing the bleeding. As Martis reached for the wounded arm, Lyran tried feebly to push her away.
“There is—no need—Mage-lady,” he gasped, his eyes pouring tears of pain.
Martis muttered an obscenity and cast the spell. “No guard in my service stays wounded,” she growled, “I don’t care what or who you’ve served before; I take care of my own.”
Having said her say and worked her magics, she went to look at the bodies while the spell did its work.
What she found was very interesting indeed, so interesting that at first she didn’t notice that Lyran had come to stand beside her where she knelt. When she did notice, it was with some surprise that she saw the slightly greenish cast to the guard’s face, and realized that Lyran was striving valiantly not to be sick. Lyran must have seen her surprise written clear in her expression, for he said almost defensively, “This one makes his living by the sword, Mage-lady, but it does not follow that he enjoys viewing the consequences of his labor.”
Martis made a noncommittal sound and rose. “Well, you needn’t think your scoutcraft’s at fault, young man. These men—the archer, too, I’d judge—were brought here by magic just a few moments before they attacked us. I wish you could have taken one alive. He could have told us a lot.”
“It is this one’s humble opinion that one need not look far for the author of the attack,” Lyran said, looking askance at Martis.
“Oh, no doubt it’s Kelven’s work, all right. He knows what my aura looks like well enough to track me from a distance and pinpoint my location with very little trouble, and I’m sure he knows that it’s me the Guild would send after him. And he knows the nearest Gate-point, and that I’d be heading there. No, what I wish I knew were the orders he gave this bunch. Were they to kill—or to disable and capture?” She dusted her hands, aware that the sun was almost gone and the air was cooling. “Well, I’m no necromancer, so the knowledge is gone beyond my retrieval.”
“Shall this one remove them?” Lyran still looked a little sick.
“No, the healing-spell I set on you isn’t done yet, and I don’t want you tearing