However, the Prince did not return at once to the wain and his men.  First he went to his destrier - his fallen favorite - and searched the tall grasses until he recovered his saber.  Only then did he mount behind the Captain and ride to see what price his company had paid.

He had left Belleger's Fist with ten guardsmen.  He now had five, although only Swalish, Vinsid, and Elgart were uninjured.  The arrow in Flisk's shoulder prevented him from performing even such tasks as saddling his horse.  Fortunately, the fifth, Klamath, had suffered nothing worse than grazed ribs.  The cut bled heavily, and the pain made him wince, but he assured the Prince that he would be able to fight once his wound was bandaged.

Camwish was among the dead, as was Nowel.  The explosion of Bartin's rifle had killed him instantly.  Ardval had taken an arrow in his face and lay close to death.  He still drew shuddering breaths, but the interval between them stretched as Prince Bifalt watched.

The last loss was Stolle, who had been crushed by his horse.  Even Nowel at his best could not have treated the man's internal bleeding.  He would not whisper secrets to his wife again.  But while his life and pain lasted, he wept.  "She will not understand," he moaned between gasps of blood.  "She will not.  Dead? she will cry.  For what?  For what?  I cannot get her to understand."

Captain Swalish ignored them all.  Like a man who could not bear the sight of his dead and dying, he watched the north, studying the hills for some sign of Vinsid.

Despite his hurt ribs, Klamath tried to make Stolle more comfortable.  But there was nothing that could save him.

Weighted with grief - a burden he carried as smoldering fury - the Prince went to join Captain Swalish.

For their part, none of the teamsters had been harmed.  The wain had covered them.  But the beasts had not fared so well.  Two more horses were dead, one urgently needed to be released from its agony, and one ox would have to be put down.  Slack's mount was gone; the Prince's, slain.  The company was left with four horses for six men, three oxen for the wain.  By Elgart's efforts, the wain itself and its burden of supplies had taken no significant damage.

Prince Bifalt neither knew nor cared how many Amikans had been killed, or would die soon.  Only those that remained concerned him.

They were enough to strike again.

"I do not understand," protested Klamath in a cracking voice.  "How was this done to us?  How can Amika know what we do?"