blanket slung between poles, for a long distance: or long it seemed, when every footfall waked another twinge in his battered body.
For the most part he kept his eyes closed, but once when he opened them he noticed the sky above was paling. It must be nearly dawn. The soldiers carrying him were no longer dark blurs against the sky; he could see the shape of their helmets, and the faces beneath. The light grew. He could not distinguish color yet; their tunics were dark, and could have been any dark color. But the helmet shape—the cut—he thought it must be—One of them looked at him.
"Nearly there, Captain. You're safe now."
"You're—"
"The Duke's men, sir. We're nearly back to camp. Sorry it's taken so long."
Cal felt a ridiculous desire to laugh. He was hardly likely to complain about r