_Not

cold; she shivered as she drank. The Marshal rose and brought another blanket from the pile. "Rest now," he said. "I would like to speak to you again, if you don't mind—" She shook her head. "Good. May Gird's care be with you." He moved away; Paks stared, still confused.

Chapter Twenty-six
When the sentry ushered the High Marshal into the tent, Duke Phelan and his senior captains were seated around his map table in conference. They looked up. Dorrin smiled, but the rest looked wary.
"I wanted to thank you, my lord, for permission to talk with Paksenarrion."
"Have a seat," offered the Duke. "Did you find out what you wanted?"
The High Marshal gathered his robes and sat down. "Not precisely, my lord. She is still dazed, and does not remember anything of the fighting. I did not wish to tire her. But what I learned confirmed my opinion that something is happening to her—and now I am reassured that it is more likely good than evil."
"Evil!" Arcolin straightened and looked angry. "Were you thinking that Paks was evil? Why, she's the best—"
"Enough." The Duke's voice was calm, but his eyes were flinty. "The High Marshal will no doubt explain himself."
"Gladly. I had no wish to anger you, Captain, or to insult your soldier. All I had heard of Paksenarrion before I saw her was good. But one reason why a blow from such a weapon of evil might not kill is that the person hit is a servant of that same deity. If—"
"Not Paksenarrion!" interrupted Arcolin.
"No. I agree. But I had to be sure; I had to see her myself. Even with what you and others had said of her service last year. There have been a few cases of Gird's symbol being worn as a mockery by those who hate him. And there are more cases of evil pretending to be good, for a long purpose."
"I'd have thought," said the Duke, pouring another mug of wine, and passing it to the High Marshal, "that you could have told i