“Is he dead?” asked Lord Oktar.

“Very much so,” nodded Marshal Berman. “I wish I could have interrogated him before he died. Barring that, I can make no sense of his attack.”

“Perhaps some people around here will recognize him,” suggested the cortain. “I could have my men start asking around.”

“No,” the marshal replied adamantly. “Get your other two squads fed. You are escorting Lord Oktar away from here within the hour. I will stay and see if I can find any clues as to his identity.”

The cortain nodded and ordered the squad to go outside and relieve one of the other squads. Marshal Berman walked over the wounded soldier.

“I’ll be alright, Marshall,” smiled the soldier as he held a rag to the wound in his side.

“You acted properly,” nodded the marshal. “Your act of bravery will be rewarded. You will stay with me, and I will get you to a healer. Are you well enough to ride?”

“I can ride,” nodded the soldier. “It looks worse than it is. I will be alright.”

The squad of soldiers entering the inn paused and looked around the room. Several soldiers still held the innkeeper and the travelers at sword-point. The squad leader issued crisp instructions to his men and they relieved the soldiers still on duty.

“What are we to do with these men?” the squad leader asked the cortain.

The cortain turned to Marshal Berman for orders.

“Let them go,” sighed the marshal. “I think the assassin was working alone.”

“Assassin?” questioned the squad leader. “What assassin?”

“The one who tried to kill Lord Oktar,” snapped the marshal. “You had to trip over his body to get in here. Concern yourself with your orders and not foolish questions.”

The squad leader felt thoroughly rebuked, but he was still confused. He inhaled deeply to summon his courage and then faced the marshal.