"No, Raieve. You are under my command, so this is my business."
"Thank you. Oh, thank you," said the highwayman, crossing his legs.
"Under my command, you kill who you must kill, and the rest you only disarm."
"That's exactly what I was about to do," said Raieve, her bitter smile showing bloody teeth.
"If you require vengeance for the girl, then kill him," said Mauritane. "Otherwise, leave him and let's be on our way."
Raieve stood and looked back at the wagon. "This is the man?" she said to the girl who sat rocking on the bench, tears streaming down her face. The girl nodded slowly.
"Shall I kill him?"
The girl thought, and then shook her head just as slowly.
Raieve nodded. "Let's go."
She and Mauritane rolled both of the men into a ditch at the side of the road.
"We'll send the Estacana Guard after you," said Mauritane to the blond man, who crouched in a fetal position in the ditch. "If you eat snow and keep your cloak dry you should survive until then."
Mauritane turned and faced Nafaeel, who drove the lead cart. "I've upheld my end of the bargain," he said. "I trust you'll uphold yours."
Nafaeel bowed low. "I am in your debt, sir."
Mauritane frowned. "You should take those horses," he said. "They look healthy enough."
Later, when they stopped to rest the horses and eat, Mauritane took Raieve aside. They stood on a low ridge overlooking a stand of snow-clad spruce. Below them, the Estacana road stretched to the south, a brown line in a field of white. The walls of the city were barely visible in the distance.
"Would you care to explain your outburst?" said Mauritane. "I thought you were more professional than that."
"Oh, come on, Mauritane!" she shouted. "Are you really that stupid? Do I have to spell it out for you?"
Mauritane hung his head. "You were raped yourself, I suppose."
She spun on him. "A brilliant deduction, Captain. Of course I was raped! Of course I was." She clenched her lips, tears beginning to form in her eyelids. She fought them.
"During the war, half the women in my village were raped at some time or another, and some of the boys as well. And now that the Unseelie have left, some of the less honorable clans have begun to follow their example."
Mauritane's eyes softened. "And that was why you became so upset. You were just reacting to…
Raieve turned away, her hands on her ears. "Don't try to interpret me! Don't try to interpret me like a dream or a bad omen! I'm not a product of my environment like a beaten dog that bites. Everything I do is a conscious choice."
Mauritane watched her silently. He gazed out over the trees, pretending not to hear her crying. "I apologize," he said. "Let's just forget it."
"Yes," she said. "Let's."
To Silverdun, traveling with the mestina was a fair bargain; they had extra tents, which meant they were, for the time being, no longer forced to sleep on the cold ground. When he came to his tent after taking the first watch, he found Faella there, naked, lying beneath his blanket and skins.
"I thought you'd never get here," she said, lifting the covers for him.
Silverdun overcame his shock gracefully. "If I'd known you were coming," he said, "I'd have had the maid clean up a little."
"Come to me," said Faella, "Come to me, Lord Silverdun."
Silverdun was taken aback. "How do you know that name?" he said.
She held out a paper. "I'm an avid reader," she said.
Silverdun took the sheet. It was a copy of the Annals of the Court, a cheap publication distributed to the merchant class in bulk by the City Emerald's Copyist Guild. This edition was from several years previous; on the front of the page was a spelled engraving of nobles dancing at a court function. Silverdun was there, in his best black suit, dancing with the Lady Lelnest. A caption underneath bore his name.
"I was right about you," she said. "I knew it."
Silverdun smiled weakly. "Let's keep this just between the two of us," he said. "No one can know. It's very important."
She nodded. "It'll be our little secret," she said, smiling innocently. "Now come here."
He lay next to her and her skin was hot. He found her mouth with his own and they kissed, her arms around his neck as he removed his clothing.
She proved to be as able a lover as she was a mestine; Silverdun wondered briefly if they amounted to the same thing. Her body was lithe and supple, her breasts small and firm. She made love willingly, forcefully, matching each of his thrusts with one of her own. When she climaxed, she bit down on his shoulder to stifle a scream.
They lay together, a tangle of arms and legs, and finally slept.
Silverdun awoke with an icy hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up into the face of Nafaeel. "Perrin Alt," said Nafaeel coldly. "Would you mind explaining what you're doing with my daughter?"
