Garroty stared at Karigan during the whole meal, stew dribbling out the corner of his mouth, which he roughly wiped away with the back of his hand. Repulsed, Karigan looked elsewhere, trying to focus on more pleasant thoughts. Maybe her father was looking for her by now. Surely Dean Geyer had sent him a message about her running away. Well, that wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought either. Her father was going to be irate when he found her. After all, it was the beginning of the spring trading season; any delay in sending out the caravans or barges could prove costly.

Torne stood up and stretched. “I’m going to scout for Immerez,” he announced. “That fool should have caught up with us days ago.” He buckled on his sword belt, wrapped his worn cloak about his shoulders, and strode out of camp.

“Watch out for ghosties!” Garroty taunted, chuckling heartily. Torne’s step faltered as he disappeared into the night.

Silence filled the clearing. Garroty pinched a wad of tobacco from his belt pouch and stuffed it into his cheek. His gaze drifted from Karigan to Jendara, and back again. He leaned back onto his elbows, chewing at his ease. Jendara’s expression was stony as she drew her sword from its sheath. From a pouch she removed a soft cloth, oil, and two whetting stones. The hiss of blade against stone filled the clearing.

“I love women who carry weapons,” Garroty said. “The danger of it excites me.”

The hissing ceased. “You’re a foul man, Garroty. Be silent before you lose something very precious to you.”

Garroty laughed. “It sounds like a challenge to me.”

“I’ve been wanting to unman you since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Then go at it, woman. I’ll have fun stopping you.”

Karigan tensed as Jendara gripped the hilt of her sword and leaped lightly to her feet. Garroty did nothing, and Jendara hesitated.

“Well, woman, come on. I’m waiting.”

Jendara snarled. “Stand up. If you’re a warrior, you will fight like one.”

Garroty chuckled and slowly pushed himself up from the ground. He stood with his arms spread out wide. “I’m standing, woman. Come for me, and I’ll show you my blade.”

A howling pierced the forest, almost human in its cry, followed by the trampling of foliage. The horses whickered nervously.

“What was that?” Jendara asked.

Garroty shrugged, unconcerned. “Probably some wolf looking for dinner.” Then with a wicked grin he added, “Maybe it’s found Torne.”

Jendara muttered under her breath, looking from the mercenary to Karigan. “I’m going to check it out,” she said. Glaring at Garroty, she added, “Leave the prisoner alone.” She held her sword before her, and stepped uncertainly into the darkness in the direction of the disturbance. Karigan looked pleadingly after her retreating back.

When Jendara was out of sight, Garroty shook his head. “Foolish woman. Just a coyote chasing a hare, I’ll reckon. The horses are quiet now, like nothing happened. No matter.” He turned his eyes back on Karigan. “It will give us a little time alone.”

“Don’t come near me.” Karigan’s voice quavered as she spoke.

Garroty was across the clearing in three strides. He seized her arm, and lest she cry out loud enough for Jendara to hear, he clamped a sweaty hand over her mouth. He yanked her to her feet, and before she could squirm away, he wrapped his arm around her chest and held her securely. If only her hands weren’t tied!

“I’ve been waiting for this.” His hot breath filled her ear damply as he spoke, and smelled of stale tobacco. Garroty dragged her beyond the clearing into the dark of the forest. She kicked and writhed, but the man must have a hide like boiled leather. She raked his shin with the sole of her boot—a trick taught her by the cargo master—but it didn’t faze him one iota. Most people would have screamed with pain.

Minutes passed like hours as Garroty dragged her, and then threw her to the ground. The barest shred of moonlight fell across his face, revealing a sickening grin. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he repeated. With a childlike giggle, he unbuckled his sword belt and dropped it to the ground. Karigan rolled over and started to crawl away, but Garroty caught her in the small of her back with his foot, and ground her into the dirt. She gasped for air.

“If you fight,” he warned her, “I can easily break your spine.” He let his foot rest there for a moment, pressing down when she moved the slightest bit. Then he pulled it away, caught her under the ribs with his toe, and rolled her onto her back again. Karigan gasped for breath, her side throbbing with pain.

Garroty fell to his knees and straddled her. The stench of his unclean body was overpowering, his very sweat reeked of tobacco. Tobacco drooled from his mouth and stained her shirt. Karigan shook uncontrollably.

Fight, fool!

It was a voice Karigan remembered. The voice she had heard that night in the settlement. Garroty’s hands now pinned her shoulders to the ground. His expression was rabid.

Fight! the voice commanded.

Yes, fight. The cargo master had taught her several tricks should she ever be in a situation such as this. She lunged and sank her teeth into Garroty’s wrist. He screamed and yanked his hand away, almost snapping her head off her neck with the force.

He growled and struck her across the face.

The blow sent reverberations ringing through her body, and she blinked dazedly. Garroty examined his wrist. This distraction might be her only chance—he was vulnerable with his legs spread above her as they were. She locked both hands into a single fist and punched upward. Garroty’s jaw fell slack as if uttering a silent cry. His eyes bulged like a fish’s, and he clutched his crotch.