Sallara huffed. “No one said anything about trust.” She turned her nose up at Wellion despite being a head shorter than him. “But putting his head on the chopping block seems like such awaste.”
She pressed a hand against Riann’s chest, and her lips pursed in disapproval. “They’ve banged you up, haven’t they?” she crooned. “Here, let me fixthat.”
Her eyes flared, and Riann gasped as energy flowed through him, banishing his lingering aches and pains. The throbbing in the back of his head completely dissipated, the burning in his ribs vanished, and a pain in his leg he hadn’t even been aware ofdisappeared.
“You’re a witch!” he gasped, stumblingback.
Sallara gave him a cool look. “Is that aproblem?”
“Of course it’s a problem,” Wellion snapped, grabbing Riann’s upper arm. “Fjordlanders burn witches at thestake.”
He dragged Riann up the steps of the keep, anger rolling off him in waves. Riann held his tongue as he was forcibly escorted through dusty halls, past moldy tapestries, cracked vases, and fading carpets. He imagined this place had once been quite grand, and wondered if it truly belonged to Lord Traize, or some long-dead noble he had wrested it from longago.
“Don’t mind my brother,” Sallara said as she walked alongside them, completely unperturbed by the stormy look on Wellion’s face. “He doesn’t take kindly to strangers. You aren’t really a witch killer, are you?” she asked, running a hand up Riann’s arm again. “If I took you to bed, you wouldn’t try to kill me afterward, wouldyou?”
The other bandits followed behind, and soon enough, they were in the great hall. Riann swallowed as he counted another forty men sitting at the long, warped wooden tables, eating from trenchers. A few women sat amongst them, wearing shabby, low-cut dresses that exposed their bosoms, and brightly colored scarves that pulled their long hair, which was otherwise unbound, back from theirfaces.
Most of the bandits joined these men at the tables, but Wellion marched up to the head table, where a man with salt-and-pepper hair sat eating. A scantily clad woman perched on his lap, hand-feeding him pieces of juicy chicken from a trencher. She did not look thrilled to be there, and was clearly several decades younger than the bandit leader, who was nevertheless younger than Riann had expected. He had anticipated a man in his early sixties, like Lord Tyrook, but Lord Traize seemed to be in his mid-forties, and quitehealthy.
“Father.” Wellion dropped to one knee, and the bandit standing behind Riann forced him to do the same. “I havereturned.”
“So I see,” the bandit leader said. Unlike the rest of his ilk, he wore the clothes of a nobleman, though they were several decades out of fashion. “Who have you broughtme?”
“A foreigner, caught trespassing on our lands,” Wellion said. “And the spoils from our recent raid.” He handed over several purses, one of them beingRiann’s.
The bandit leader accepted them, looking less than impressed—the purses were not very fat, and Riann thankfully only had a small bit of their money on him when he had beenattacked.
“What is your name, foreigner?” he asked Riann in a tone that said he found Riann to be even less interesting than the gold Wellion hadbrought.
“Riann of Trellebor,” he said, referencing the name of his family’s manor. “I am a knight who has left the service of my master, hoping to seek my fortunehere.”
“Try former knight,” Wellion sneered. “His master has put a price on his head for seeking the affections of a woman who was not his toclaim.”
“If that is his only crime,” Sallara said silkily, “then he should fit in quite well aroundhere.”
Her comment got quite a few chuckles from the men in the room, and Lord Traize raised an eyebrow. “You are interested in this one, Sallara?” he asked, even as his hand crept up the side of the woman on hislap.
“I am,” Sallara said, seemingly unaware as her father groped the woman’s breast; she had to be the same age as his daughter. Riann’s stomach pitched at the wrongness of it, but he held his tongue. “He is strong and healthy, unlike most of the other wretches we find trespassing on our territory. I feel he could be quiteuseful.”
Lord Traize snorted. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I’d sooner use him for sport, perhaps as part of a hunting exercise. Though I don’t see why you couldn’tusehim in the meantime, providing that you check him for diseases first.” His lipcurled.
Sallara’s eyes flashed, and Riann felt his cheeks flush with rage at Lord Traize’s insinuation. He had no intention of sleeping with Sallara, and yet he was not content to stand here and be insulted either. But before either of them could open their mouths, Wellion steppedin.
“I do agree that the foreigner would provide us some amusement if we used him for a hunting exercise,” Wellion said smoothly. “But I have seen him fight, and he is quite handy with a sword. In fact, we would have been evenly matched if not for my men outnumbering him. We have suffered some losses recently, and could use some new recruits. I would be responsible for him, ofcourse.”
Riann stared at Wellion. What was the bandit captain up to? Riann had been certain Wellion wanted to offload him, and yet now he was assuming responsibility for his life. Was it merely on behalf of Wellion’s sister, who so clearly wanted him? Or was there anothermotive?
“I suppose,” the bandit leader said reluctantly. He opened his mouth, and the woman on his lap popped a grape inside. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he caught her wrist and briefly sucked on the tip of her finger. Her face flushed in a combination of mortification and anger, and Riann imagined that if she was not afraid for her life, she would have slappedhim.
“I take it this means we are dismissed, Father?” Sallara said sweetly. There was a hard glint in her eyes that told Riann she was not as oblivious to her father’s behavior as shepretended.
“Yes, yes,” her father said, but he tore his attention away from his plaything long enough to pin Riann with a stare. “So long as youagree.”
Riann swallowed. He was tempted to spit in the man’s face, but doing so would result in a quick severance of his head from his body, and he needed to live long enough to escape and get back toTariel.
“I agree,” he saidreluctantly.
“Good. Now get him out of mysight.”
