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By Root 2135 0

one of his pistols had climbed into his hand, and he knew the others most certainly were aware of it, though none of them looked at it directly, and no one spoke. The sound of thunder shuddered over the mountain east of the grand’case. Now the doctor knew why Maillart had been so reluctant for him to come here; he saw it as clearly as the place behind the shoulder of the goat where he had known his rifle would surely send its bullet. But there was no action he would take. He could not choose between Maillart or Riau or any of the other men who stood before him. The pistol dropped from his slackening hand and discharged as it hit the ground, the bullet digging a furrow in the turf.

Guizot barked his surprise and skipped aside, though the shot had not come near him. The doctor turned away from the group before anyone else could react or speak to him. He walked in a hasty, stumbling stride, passing the mule and turning toward the low ground where brush and small trees sprouted from a branching ditch. A little stream ran through it, and the doctor crouched on the bank, pulling his knees to his chin and wrapping his hands around his head, thinking: It could have all been different. It should have all been different, but it wasn’t going to be.

Toussaint turned his head toward the open window through which they’d heard the shot.

“What was that?” he said, though his tone barely made it a question.

“The thunder,” Brunet said with an uneasy smile. The two of them were alone in a pleasant rectangular room with generous windows on three sides, though now the glass had darkened as the rain settled in with the night. The table between them was spread with maps and lists of the disposition of French troops in the region, but little progress had been made on the matter at hand. Since Toussaint’s arrival, Brunet had filled most of the time by pressing him to stay the night and wondering why he had not brought his wife and sons with him and professing to be awaiting another officer who would come with more current information about the quartering of the troops.

“A gunshot.” Toussaint turned his head and touched the knot of his yellow headcloth with a fingertip. “A pistol, I would say.”

“Surely not. Look, there is the rain.” Brunet raised his chin. Beyond the window the first raindrops were splattering onto the hedge that enclosed the house.

“But pardon me,” Brunet said. “I will investigate.”

Toussaint could discern the faintest tremor in the blanc general’s fingers as he rose. Brunet bowed out of the room and drew the door carefully shut behind him. The door latch clicked. Beyond was the sound of whispering. Toussaint got up and walked slowly along the three walls of windows, cocking up the hilt of his sword so that the scabbard would not drag the floor. The windows were slick with rain, and several of them were ajar, so that rain blew in on the east side of the room to dampen the carpet, but Toussaint did not trouble to close them. The lamp on the table behind him returned his reflection, his face fractured and multiplied across the glossy black panes. The rainfall muffled the quiet movements of men outside, shuffling invisibly beyond the hedge. Toussaint returned to his seat, his long sword twitching behind him like the tail of a stalking cat.

When he had settled in his chair, General Brunet entered and stood with one hand on the doorknob behind him.

“It is nothing,” he said. “A misfire—the soldier has been reprimanded. But pardon me only a moment more. The man is just now coming with our information.”

Again the door latch clicked, and Toussaint relaxed, flattening his hands on the tabletop. He let his eyes sink almost shut and listened to the sound of scuffling feet outside, half covered by the growing roar of rain.

Though he had been warned and in any case knew what was likely to happen, Daspir was quite unprepared when, just as the first raindrops scattered over them, Maillart flung himself on Riau and carried him bodily to the ground. Maillart was much the larger of the two, and he covered Riau so entirely that it was not