The Deed of Paksenarrion by Elizabeth Moon Read Free Book Online

she’d drunk into the bucket. She hurt all over, and tomorrow could only be worse. A sob shook her body, then another one. She tried to choke them back.
    “Wishing you were back on the farm, Paks?” Stammel’s voice was almost gentle.
    Her head came up in surprise. “No, sir. I just wish—I wish it hadn’t happened, or that you’d been there to see it all.”
    “Still want to be a soldier, even after this?”
    “Of course! It’s what I’ve always wanted, but—but if everyone thinks I’m lying—I’ll never have the chance.” She retched again.
    “Paks, is all this heaving from being in trouble, or what?”
    “I—I think it’s from being hit, here—” She gestured at her midriff. “It hurts there.”
    “I thought you just had a black eye and a bloody nose—let’s see, can you sit up straighter?” Stammel moved away from the light to her side. “No, keep looking toward the light. Hmm—that whole side of your face is swollen. I can’t even see your eyelashes. Your nose is broken, certainly.” He touched the swelling very gently. Paks winced. “That could be from more than one blow. Do your ears ring?”
    “Yes, sir—but it comes and goes.”
    “What’s this gash on your shoulder? He didn’t have a blade, did he?”
    “No. I think that was the belt buckle. My father’s used to do that.”
    “I wish this torchlight was brighter and steadier,” grumbled Stammel. “Lift your chin. Looks like your throat is bruised, too. Does it hurt to breathe?”
    “Just a little.”
    “Well, where else are you hurt?”
    “In—in front. It all hurts. And my legs.”
    “Stand up, then. I’ll want a look at the damage.”
    Paksenarrion tried to stand, but her legs had stiffened after hours of sitting on the cold stone. At first she could not move at all, but when Stammel gave her an arm to pull up on, she staggered up, still unable to straighten. She could not repress a short cry of pain.
    “Here—lean against the wall if you aren’t steady.” Stammel swung her around and braced her against the wall opposite the torch. “Tir’s bones, I don’t see how you could have half-killed him in the shape you’re in.” Then he paused, glancing down at his arm and then at the stone bench. “It is blood. What did they—”
    Paks felt herself slipping down the wall; she could not seem to hold herself up.
    “Here, now—don’t fall,” said Stammel. The warning came too late. Paks lay curled on her side, heaving helplessly.
    “I’m—I’m sorry—” she gasped finally.
    “Lie still then. Let me look—” Stammel raised her tunic. Even in the flickering torchlight he could see the welts and dried blood on her thighs. Her tunic was ripped in several places. Stammel swore suddenly, words Paks had heard from her cousin. Then his voice softened. “Paks, I’m going to talk to the captain. We’ll get this straightened out somehow. You can’t be faking these injuries, and their story doesn’t hold up when you’re too weak to stand.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, let’s get you back on the bench. I’ll try to get the captain to let me have Maia see you, but don’t count on it.” He half-lifted her. “Come on—help me. You’re too big for me to lift alone.”
    Paks struggled up and finally made it onto the bench with Stammel’s help.
    “I’ll be back to check again tonight, and of course in the morning. You’ll be all right, though miserable. Try not to move around—that may help the heaves—and don’t panic. We won’t forget you.” With that Stammel took down the torch, opened the door, and left, taking the light with him. Paks lay in the darkness, not quite sure whether she felt better or worse about her prospects.
    * * *
    Stammel came up from the cells looking, had he known it, as angry as he felt. Bosk waited near the head of the stairs. When he caught sight of Stammel’s face, his own seemed to freeze for an instant. Stammel, his mind whirling with what he must do, and