She let a small droll smile tighten a corner of her mouth. "And how do they compare?"

"Oh, you are decidedly the more rewarding weakness."

"Most kind."

They ate off the plate together, without utensils, sitting with their legs folded beneath them, their knees touching. Radstac didn't bother telling Deo about the incident with the sergeant. This tent was not being used at the moment and so was their temporary hiding hole. But even its dubious safety wasn't something they could allow themselves to enjoy for long. Over the past days they had ranged furtively across the massive encampment, alighting here and there, stealing water, stealing food, snatching a watch or two of sleep. It was relatively easy to go unnoticed amidst all these units. As with any undertaking of such scope, some disorder must result. For her and Deo it was a matter of stealth, of diligence. It wasn't a difficult thing to be just two more soldiers among so many others, among this grand Felk host.

But, of course, they were not Felk, nor captured soldiers inducted into the ranks. They were the two who had attempted to assassinate this army's topmost commander, General Weisel.

Actually, Radstac conceded, credit where credit was due. It was Deo who had fired that crossbow bolt that—so the avid scuttlebutt went—had so nearly found its target. Truly it had been a magnificent shot. Miraculous. Or... almost so.

"It looks like time to take that thread out. You haven't been scratching at it?"

"In the noble family of the premier of Petgrad," Deo said, fastidiously licking his fingers clean, "we learn not to scratch our wounds from a very young age."

"How very wise. Unbutton that tunic the rest of the way. I'll barely be able to see what I'm doing as is."

It wouldn't do to light a lamp in here.