6
Riann half-expected Sallara to come visit him the next morning, but there was no sign of the bandit witch. Instead, he spent most of the day languishing in his cell, eating hard crusts of bread and cheese that had been brought to him, and mulling over hispredicament.
By the time one of the bandits came to release Riann from his cell, he could have cried with joy. The man who opened the door was one of the ones from Wellion’s raiding party, but he was on the smaller side, and of few words. He also carried a large, wicked-looking curved blade, which made Riann think he preferred talking with hissword.
“Wellion’s ordered you to be outfitted,” he grunted as he motioned Riann out of the cell. “You’re to go on a raid with ustonight.”
“Lovely,” Riann muttered. He followed the bandit down the hall and into a washroom with a small tub filled with icy water and a bar of soap. He gave Riann a few minutes to scrub the dirt from his body, then thrust a pair of thread-bare but clean clothing into hishands.
Once Riann was dressed, the bandit took him to the armory, where a bulky man with a shaved head and thick mustache waited. Riann cringed inwardly as he was fitted with the same leather armor and colors that the bandits wore, but he knew he had no choice but to masquerade as one of them fornow.
“Ooh, look at you,” Sallara gushed as Riann stepped into the hallway. She raked him up and down with those green eyes. His skin prickled uncomfortably. “The Traize colors suit youwell.”
Riann glanced down at the cloth tied to his arm. He hadn’t noticed it when he’d first met the bandits, but the cloth sported the emblem of a snake twined with a sword, and he imagined that was the herald Lord Traize had chosen for hishouse.
“Is your father a titled lord?” he asked. “He is master of this keep, and he makes his men wear the emblem of his house, just like any noble would. And yet I have never heard of a bandit lord.” Such a thing was absolutely unheard of in Fjordland—King Hamlin would never have allowedit.
“Enough questions,” Wellion said, stepping between Riann and his sister. He glowered down at Riann, who found the experience to be quite unusual—there weren’t very many people taller than him, even if Wellion only had him by an inch or two. “You can cuddle with my sister later. It is time toride.”
“Come back safe to me!” Sallara called in a sing-song voice as Wellion herded him away. A shudder crawled down his spine as he felt her eyes on his back, and he kept his own gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to encourageher.
“My sister may act like a common whore, throwing herself at any man who walks by,” Wellion said in a low voice when they were out of earshot, “but I expect you to respect her just as you would anywoman.”
Riann raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t sound like you respect her very much yourself. I would never refer to my sister as a whore, even if that was herprofession.”
Wellion snorted. “I believe in calling a spade a spade. Perhaps my sister does not trade her favors for coin, but she wields her sex the way you and I might wield a sword. And when she gets tired of you, she will cast you aside and pick up something new. When that day comes, know that I will kill you if you so much asthinkabout harming a hair on herhead.”
Riann’s blood went cold at the icy conviction in Wellion’s voice. “I have no intention of laying a hand on your sister in any capacity. My heart belongs toanother.”
Wellion rolled his eyes. “I was talking about your loins, man, not your heart. The two are not at allrelated.”
“They are forme.”
Wellion laughed mockingly. “You must have it bad for this woman, then, whoever sheis.”
I do,Riann agreed silently. He could never give himself to another woman, not with the bond they shared. Just the thought of sleeping with Sallara, beautiful as she was, made his skincrawl.
They met the other bandits by the stables, then saddled up their horses and rode out. Riann was given the same horse as last time, but this time he was allowed to ride it, for which he was grateful. The bandits had even given him his sword back, although he imagined they would take it away the moment they returned to thekeep.
The group Riann rode out with today was smaller, perhaps ten bandits total. Riann briefly entertained the idea of trying to kill them all, but even though he was several times stronger than any one of them, the odds that he would be killed were still too high. He scanned his surroundings as they traveled through the valley, memorizing the path, and simultaneously staying alert for any possible escapeopportunity.
Unfortunately, Wellion’s troop kept Riann completely surrounded, and there was no way to make a run for it without going through at least one of them. They also blindfolded him before they reached the pass, and did not take it off again until they were far away from the entrance. He was relieved at finally being able to see again, but his mood quickly soured when they approached a farm on the outskirts of the valley, especially when he spotted two young women working in thefield.
“Why are we raiding this farm?” he asked one of the bandits in a low voice. “They don’t look like they have much.” Indeed, the farmhouse looked as though it was in bad need of repair, and though there were some chickens pecking about in the yard, they lookedunderfed.
“They are supposed to send us a portion of their harvest every year,” the bandit said. “But when harvest time came around, they only delivered a single bushel of potatoes. Just look at all this land.” The bandit swept his hand to indicate the fields. “Does it look to you like they only had one bushel togive?”
Riann shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how much land there is if the soil isn’t fertile. And their crops could have been hit by a blight. I doubt these people held out onpurpose.”
One of the men working in the field spotted them, and he sprang into action, rushing the two women and a young boy of around ten into the house. There were three men in total, and they all gathered in front of the house to meet the bandits, looking both fearful and resolved. Riann felt a swell of pity in his heart as he watched one of them hold the rake in his hand tight enough to whiten his knuckles—he knew these men would likely put up a fight if they had to, but they were no match for the bandits and theirsteel.
“Sir Wellion,” the oldest man said as Wellion pulled his horse to a stop right in front of them. His voice wavered a little as he looked up at the bandit, but he met him square in the eye. “I know why you’rehere.”
Sir Wellion?Riann thought, indignant that the bandit was being addressed as though he were a knight. But perhaps things were done differently in thiscountry.
“Does that mean you have the additional nine bushels of potatoes?” Wellion asked, sounding almost bored. “If you do, we shall take them and be on ourway.”
“W-we have a few bushels,” the man admitted, glancing to the storehouse just a little distance away. “But I need them to feed my sons anddaughters.”
