Narrator:
Schol is busy in a side conversation and doesn't hear Brennan's direct question. Brennan waits patiently for a while, then begins to wonder where Maia is.
Brennan: [to himself]
She should be finished talking to the cooks by now... there isn't *that* much you can say about seasoning venison!
Narrator:
Brennan gets up and walks over to the cooking area. Not finding Maia, he heads back into the woods surrounding the encampment.
Brennan: [to himself again]
She's probably gone back to check on Beauty.
Narrator:
Back at the table, Hesketh spies Elisabeth looking around. He smiles and then so does she as she spots him and starts over his way. With his usual fluid grace he gets up from the table and then does something rude and shocking. He kicks the table, hard, very hard, as he turns around. The table goes up and over, sweeping Blackbird, Schol, and Luther to the ground. All three react defensively, but it's hard to defend against a table. Impossible against one kicked as hard as a man Hesketh's size and strength can kick. Luther, however, manages not to defend at all. As the table approaches, he's up and simply walks over it, rather like a working an oversized treadmill.
Hesketh: [rising]
Excuse-DUCK!OWF!
[Whack!]
Elisabeth: [screaming at the top of her lungs]
AAAAAGGGGH!
Schol: (hitting the ground indelicately)
Oof.
Bowman: [loudly]
HE'S A DROW - AW SHIT!
Narrator:
The bolt hits Hesketh in the shoulder and pitches him backwards into the table. The impact bounces Schol slightly, the table takes most of the brunt of it. Luther grabs his hip, and in a reflexive motion draws his hand to ready position. Only when he is almost at ready does he realize there is nothing there.
Luther: [unspoken]
Damn!
[does rapid scan of the environs]
Narrator:
Soldiers are already reacting to the bowman. Yasgar gets the first blow in. Its from behind, with the pommel of his sword, straight to the man's head. Yasgar puts everything he has into the blow and the man crumples as if boneless.
Yasgar: [booming]
ROYALS! ALERT!
Jhereg: [noting that Yasgar is standing over the crumpled body, ready to defend it from further harm]
Keep him alive!
[unspoken]
For now.
Narrator:
A great deal of steel clears leather all over the camp. None of it gets put to use.
Blackbird rolls from behind the overturned table and looks around her with paranoid intensity for a few moments. When it registers on her that the only attacker is safely unconscious, she almost visibly loosens. She goes to brush a strand of hair away from her face and realizes with surprise that at some point both of her sai managed to find their way into her hands. She sheathes them distractedly.
Hesketh is looking very surprised, and about as green around the gills as a man his size can look. Sure, he has a nearly inhuman constitution, but the best armourers in McKitrick and Tudor make sure it is seldom put to the test. But he wasn't wearing his plate, just the full suit of chain he normally wears under it.
He's not used to taking damage.
Certainly not like this.
Luther notes that Hesketh is slipping a dagger back into a hidden sheathe. It's not until later that Luther realizes that it's a throwing dagger, it has something sticky painted on the blade, and a drop of something was clinging to the tip. It is certain that no one else noticed, with all attention on the bowman and the table.
Schol:
Perhaps I should return to my bed now.
Luther: [turning to Hesketh]
Or, better yet,
[voice powered for half the camp]
GET A HEALER OVER HERE!
Blackbird: [realizing Schol cannot see. takes his hand]
Come tend to Sir Hesketh first -- there is an arrow in his shoulder.
[angry look]
I'd like to castrate that bowman with a green twig. But first I want to hear his story.
Luther: [to Blackbird]
He can tend the wound until we get a priest? Good.
Hesketh: [matter of fact tones, to Luther]
Chain alone is insufficient to stop bolts. Don't buy good armour if you're not going to wear it.
I trust no one was injured by the table? It seemed the only expedient way to provide cover for the others.
Narrator:
Luther stands and looks around for just a moment, trying to decide which direction is likely to take him to a good healer the quickest.
Elisabeth makes it to Hesketh and drops to her knees. She fishes under her dress and exerts her shoulders. She is a Stanley, a family noted for size and strength, even if she looks like a doll when she stands next to Hesketh. Something goes "rip." Her hand comes up with a length of white cloth which she carefully applies to Hesketh's wound. She takes care not to disturb the bolt. He smiles at her, but her expression never changes from one of grave concern.
Elisabeth:
Hang on, Piotr, Sister Anne is not far, surely she heard the call.
Luther: [unspoken, tries desperately not to laugh]
Piotr is it? Half of McKitrick think his first name is "Sir" and his father's first name is "Lord."
Hesketh: [quits smiling suddenly]
I wish her GodSpeed, I fear the bolt was poisoned.
[all notions of humor disappear from Luther. He mouths the words "Oh, shit."]
Narrator:
About this moment, Richard bursts into the open area where the breakfast tables are set. Apparently interrupted in the midst of a bath, he is clad only in loose shorts and boots, dripping water, but carrying his drawn sword. The Royals are *everywhere*, deployed in sets that has one man looking towards the action and the other looking the other way for any incoming threat. One spies Richard's drawn sword and starts to drop into a fencing crouch, but then he 'makes' Richard. It's the same soldier he'd picked up by the lapels earlier. He comes up out of the crouch and nudges his mate. And turns to match strides with Richard.
Soldier:
I'll escort the Baron. MAKE WAY! ROYALS COMING THROUGH!
Narrator:
These words, repeated more than once, gets them through the crowd to the overturned table.
Sir Richard:
Hesketh!! An arrow..? What... Schol! When...!!? What is happening here?
Schol:
A little quiet would be helpful so I can get this arrowhead out. He's apparently tough enough to be one of your relatives, Richard.
Sir Richard:
Damn, Schol, be careful, you'll get yourself into trouble again. Here, why don't you get the arrow and I'll get the wound, alright? Where's Sister Anne? Another pair of hands would be useful. You!
[addressing a soldier standing near the table]
Go find Sister Anne--- tall priestess, right? Tell her we have need of her skills. Go!
Narrator:
The man glances at Yasgar who nods quickly
["Oh course, you idiot!"]
and he turns to move but goes nowhere.
Anne came from here.
Anne: [finally getting through the crowd with an escort of her own]
Then quit shouting and let me get to work.
Narrator:
Luther and Blackbird are helping keep a clear zone around Hesketh, giving the healers space to work.
Richard:
OK, Schol, whenever you're ready.
Schol:
Okay, This is Going to feel a bit better and then it's going to hurt.
[Almost as an after thought]
A lot.
Narrator:
Schol. motions and says something quietly then (4 point lend health) using a small, sharp knife which materializes from somewhere, Schol enlarges the entry wound slightly to avoid tearing. He probes gently with a finger to see where exactly the arrow has lodged. He nods to Richard and slowly withdraws the arrow.
Hesketh's teeth make some noise, and his expression tightens, but he makes no other sign as Schol works.