"Put him down," I snapped. "Then cover us while I take care of him." Who knew what might be watching? Taglian nights conceal countless curious eyes. Everyone wants to know what the Black Company is doing. We take it as a given that some of those are people we do not even know yet.

Paranoia is a way of life.

I knelt beside the litter, tipped it a little and turned Smoke's head. It flopped like he had no bones in his neck. Smoke gurgled and hacked some more.

"Hush," One-Eye said.

I looked up. A tall Shadar watchman was headed our way, carrying a lantern. One of the Old Man's innovations, the night-time foot patrols have crippled enemy espionage efforts. Now our creativity was about to turn around on us.

The turbaned soldier walked past so close his grey pants actually brushed me. But he sensed nothing.

One-Eye is no master sorcerer but he does a hell of a job when he concentrates.

Smoke made that noise again.

The Shadar stopped, looked back. His eyes widened. They were about all that could be seen between his turban and his massive beard. I do not know what he saw but he touched his forehead and swept his fingers in a quick half circle ending over his heart. That was a ward against evil common to all the peoples of Taglios.

He moved on hurriedly.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Never mind," One-Eye said. "Let's get him loaded." The wagon was waiting right where Sleepy was supposed to leave it. "He's going to report something. He'll have his whole family here in a few minutes."

The watchmen were equipped with whistles. Our man remembered his and started tooting as One-Eye lifted his end of the litter. In seconds another whistle answered. "He going to keep that shit up?" One-Eye asked.

"I'll lay him on his side. The phlegm should drain off. But you're the guy who knows the medical stuff. If he's coming down with pneumonia you better start working on him now."