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*****

It is true, what they say: you never remember the details of your dreams when you waken. You do remember, though, sensations. The overwhelming sensation that I had was that I was drowning, and couldn't breathe. I would be bobbing somewhere near the surface, and then would plunge down into the darkness. Sometimes, it would be monsters pulling me up, and other times, monsters pulling me down. Or just brushing up against them in the murky depths. I had absolutely no sensation of space, nor time.

There came a point, though, were it did feel like was starting to float, that the monsters had finally let me alone. It was warmer, softer and brighter. I would have liked to have swum around, but I felt paralyzed.

Finally, the light became bright, with a blue flash nearly blinding me. I came to, with a sensation of being in twilight, and distant heavy thudding and banging sounds in the distance. My arms were clamped somehow, to something, somewhere, that I couldn't see. I also had the ghastly sensation of something large and soft jammed through my muzzle, and deep down into my throat. I couldn't move my head, and I had only a vague sense that I could move my body.

There was another loud banging sound, followed by deep thuds. There was a muddy garble of noises, as if I were still underwater. The bonds tying down my arms were loosened and undone, and I was brought up with something wrapped up around my chest.

Almost immediately, I felt something massive clamp the back of my neck, and something equally massive hold my chest in a firm, but not constricting, grip. Through the swirl and haze, the only thing that I could see was a bright metal cylinder with a point. It was shoved into my muzzle, and I then felt a liquid, stinging sensation, first in my mouth, then my throat, and then following all the way down to my stomachs. Whatever was in my muzzle and down my throat was pulled out, and the force that was restraining me tilted my head sharply down, toward a patch of white.

I'll spare you the details of the next few minutes. Suffice it to say that I was very sick to my stomachs. The only thing that was not unpleasant was a soft noise that was being made into my ear, which sounded like "wisht."

I passed out, and everything was dark again. I didn't have the sensation of drowning, any more. Almost the opposite: it was as if I had been locked into a sauna, one that was going full blast. Someone would, occasionally, take me out into the snow and cool me, but then I would be locked in the sauna again. This went on for I don't know how long, exactly. At least no one was beating me with birch branches.

The sauna treatments seemed to get more infrequent, and then they stopped altogether.

It was hard to open my eyes, since they felt a bit crusted. Eventually, by slowly moving my eyelids, I could get a sensation of where I was.

It appeared to be a room with an open window, one that was letting in a cold, but by no means unpleasant, breeze. I was facing the window, and I could see a mix of reds, golds, purples and browns in the landscape.

I closed my eyes again and willed first my fingers, and then my hooves, to wiggle. They responded, if somewhat slowly. Breathing in and out, I checked my other sensations. I did not feel any clothes on my body. I felt dizzy. My throat felt awful, as it was dry and scratchy. I had some odd feeling on my scalp, which itched. Not that I really could do anything about that.

There was a faint splashing sound, and a moment later, my vision and the light were blocked out by darkness, and something wet and cool rubbing over my face, gently washing out my eyes and nose. It was removed, to be replaced by the sight of a giant's face peering at me with a mixture of hope and concern.

"And can you hear me, then?"

I tried to nod, and failed for the most part. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, so any effort at speech was useless.

A flat object was inserted into my mouth, and from it dripped something cold. I couldn't really taste whatever it was, but it was cold, and it managed to unstick my tongue.

A paw reached behind my head, and gently pushed it forward. The flat object returned, and gave me more of the same. It hurt to swallow, but a massive finger gently pressed against my throat encouraged me.

My head was returned to the pillow, and I could hear a door open. The giant spoke.

"Ah, sure, sorr, he's come to, he has."

Some fingertips were placed very gently against the side of my throat, feeling my pulse. This was followed by a paw placed over my forehead, fingers gently pinching my ears, and then a blue light shining into each one of my eyes.

"Good. Fever's broken, I think. Still running a temperature. Did he take any liquid?"

"That he did, sorr. Farr spoons."

"Hold it down?"

"Indeed it is true."

"Fine, fine. Keep him hydrated. Not too much, mind, I don't want his insides overloaded. No more than..."

I drifted off, missing the rest of the conversation.

The next time I was able to open my eyes, the window was shut and the curtains were drawn. I could hear a crackling sound off to my left, and by turning my head slightly, I could see, outlined by a fire quietly stirring in the fireplace, an enormous elk smoking a pipe and looking up at the ceiling, evidently working something out in his mind.

At the sound of my wheezy rattle, though, he turned quickly, placed his pipe on the mantelpiece, and got up to have a close look at me. After seeing that I was awake, he bent down, and emerged with a bowl of something, into which he was pouring a slow, glutinous liquid.

For the next few minutes, I was fed like a fawn. I'd really forgotten how nice fruit ices were. Especially sweet persimmon fruit ices. I must have finished off the dish, since the elk started putting away the things.

"Th...anks."

"Ah, you're after speaking, is it? That's grand!" And, indeed, he looked pleased. He gave me a drink of water to encourage me, and then gently propped me up in bed.

Since I'd been awake the previous time, someone had dressed me in a silk robe and pants, and the sheets were silk, as well.

"Not...in barracks?"

The elk's face split into a wide grin, and he chuckled. "It is true, that you are not. It is the Royal Palace you're resting in."

That was somewhat confusing information. "Albric?"

"It is that, yes. A guard's van is here, to be sure."

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. "How long out?"

There was a faint murmur of counting. "Arrah, it'll have been seventeen days, counting today. A fierce one you are for a struggle, lad. The arrbalist almost gave you up a few times."

I opened my eyes. The elk was looking at me, his good humour temporarily displaced by a look of concern.

"What. What happened?"

"And are you not remembering anything, then?"

I closed my eyes, swallowed a few times, and then opened them again. "Someone. Tried to kill. The Marshal. And Heir. My officer stopped. Got hurt. Tried to help him. Get the poison. Out."

That took quite a bit of effort, and the elk held a cup to my lips. I had another long pull of water, and he put my head back to recline. He walked away, and the door opened softly and then closed. A few minutes later, it opened again to admit a skunk in robes and thin gloves.

"Good evening. I'm Edwin, Herbalist Extraordinary to His Majesty. You've given us quite a lot of worry, Private."

"Sorry, sir."

He extended a small rod, murmured some Gramerye, and the tip of it began to glow blue. He opened my muzzle, and peered down into my mouth.

"Hmm. Good. Pink colour's returning. No coughing?"

"I'm very thirsty."

"Yes, well, that's to be expected. Fever and all. Nasty stuff, stranglewort."

"Strangle. Wort?"

Using one of his fingers, he pulled open my eyelids and began looking at them closely. "Oh, yes, stranglewort. Put it on the tip of a knife, and stab someone with it, it'll cause the chest muscles to tighten up, so you can't breathe. Ingest it, you'll choke to death. You've had the worst case of stranglewort poison ingestion I've ever seen for a fur that's lived. Good thing you're a young and healthy fur."

He twitched aside my bedclothes, pulled down my pants, opened my robe, and asked me to cough a number of times. He held his ear to my chest, turned me on my stomach, thumped my back, and listened as I breathed in and out.

"Cormac? Note lungs clear, muscle tone in legs and arms responsive."

"Yes, sorr."

He redressed me, and then turned to the elk again. "Give him fruit ice, one bowl every two hours, and wake him up for it. If he needs to go, have a pan ready, and mark down when he goes. He's not to get out of bed until I say so, understand?"

"It is at that."

He was about to leave, when I managed to get his attention.

"My. Officer?"

"Plenty of time to discuss that, later, Private. Let's focus on you, for the moment, shall we?"

I didn't have much enthusiasm for my persimmon ice after that.

The next few days were lashing rain outside, which matched my mood somewhat. I was getting a bit stronger, in that I could sit up by myself. The room I was in was somewhat peculiar. It was tiled in a soft pastel blue. Off in one corner, there was a small stand from which a number of large velveteen ants dangled. A large, painted wooden ant on rockers was nearby, its gay colours dulled a little bit with dust. The room itself did not appear to have been used in quite some time. Indeed, other than occasional sounds of footpads from the hall outside, and Cormac the elk quietly smoking an endless succession of pipes, it was hushed.

The first break in the routine came on the last day of the rain, when a pair of officers came. They introduced themselves (after being warned by the Herbalist not to overtax me) as members of the Board of Enquiry looking into the assassination attempt. They had me go over the events, from the time we marched onto the Parade Ground until I lost consciousness.

They had me go over repeatedly the point at which I had started to suspect the soldier of the 106th wasn't who he was supposed to be. It was on the fourth pass that I sat up with a start, almost causing the Herbalist to terminate the interview.

"His cloak!"

Both of the investigators looked at each other, and then leaned in, closely, their reed quills poised.

"Come again, Private?"

"I'm sorry, I've just realized, thinking now. I must not have...well. His cloak."

"What about his cloak?"

"It wasn't done up according to regulations. I mean. When you carry spears, you're supposed to have your cloak done up this way..." I sat up in bed, and demonstrated with my robe. "But you know, he didn't have his cloak done up that way. You need your cloak done up a different way to shoot arrows, otherwise it gets caught up. He had his cloak done up for arrow shooting, not using spears or his short sword. It was buttoned wrong for that."

Both of the Board members sat back and whispered to each other. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something I said pleased them a great deal, and they didn't try to hide it. They shook paws with me, and indicated that they did not believe the Board would require much more from me. One of them did, though, pause at the end, and looked a bit embarrassed.

"Errr, I am sorry, Private, but I must bring this up. You are familiar with Articles 98, 101(b) and 134 of the King's Regulations, are you not?"

I winced, and ear-drooped. All three Articles dealt with improper behaviour on parade.

"Yes, sir. I can't imagine that there's any way around it, sir. I know the Articles, and I know I broke them. But honest, sir, I really thought I..."

A placating paw was raised. "That's all we need from you, Private. Just an acknowledgment. We'll be in touch if the Board needs anything further."

I was so deep in a funk over that exercise in Army bureaucracy, that I forgot to ask them what happened to Lieutenant Chitterleigh.