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study her face as if he were checking a dnu's
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Tara K. Harper
teeth for age. She yanked her head back, her face burning with instant fury, but he merely
smiled and forced her forward again.
"Feisty, huh? The ones with spirit always bring a better price." His other hand pulled off
the healer's headband and warcap, and her tangled hair tumbled free. "Definitely pretty. In
fact, I'd say unusually so. With the healer status, we might be able to get forty, maybe
forty-two pieces of gold in spite of this " He gestured at her leg and head gash, " and
this. Maybe more from the right buyer." He laughed harshly and let her pull her burning
face from his grasp. '' Healer, I respect your trade, so I'll give you the choice of telling me
where you keep your money or letting me dig through your herb pouches. What'll it be?"
Dion was shocked. No one ever touched a healer's herbs. But then, no one was supposed to
harm a healer, either, she reminded herself warily. So she tempered her anger, though her
eyes flashed. "Third pouch on the right," she answered mutinously.
He gave her a lazy smile. "Stay cooperative," he commented, untying the pouch and
hefting it in his hands, "and you'll stay alive." The pouch contained only silver and copper,
but it would be enough to appease the raider. The moons knew she was not dressed as if
she had money. As he peered hi the small bag and counted the coins roughly, Dion's left
leg itched where the jewels and her few pieces of gold were small bumps in her boots
against her skin, but, satisfied, Grost relied the pouch and tucked it in his jerkin. "Now,
what happened to the rest of your party?" he asked, appraising the bloodstains and cuts on
her leather mail.
"Worlags," she said shortly.
Grost gave her a speculative look. "And you alone escaped their claws? That wolf must be
pretty handy in a scrape. We'll just have to set you out as bait till it comes back for you." In
spite of herself, Dion's eyes flickered, and Grost smiled, knowing he had guessed right. His
smile had humor like that of a hungry worlag.
As she glared at him and tried to read his face, the wolfwalker told herself that she had no
reason to be shocked by the raider's tactics: She had listened to her father and her twin
talk about their experiences, she had seen the wounds and tortured bodies the raiders left
behind, she had studied under the best teachers
WOLFWALKER
37
in the martial art called Abis if she let this raider scare her so that she forgot everything
she had learned, then she had wasted more than half her life training in something she
could not bring herself to use. He was a raider, yes, and a slaver as well, but he was only a
man, after all.
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And men can be killed as easily as hares, the Gray One whispered savagely from a shadow
behind one of the raiders.
Hishn, get back get away from the light. Leave me. Find Shorn. He's got to be close.
Desperately, Dion forced herself not to look at the wolf.
But the raider's voice sharpened suddenly and went cold, breaking into her thoughts.
"Who is Rhom?" he barked, as if reading her mind and trying to catch her off guard. "What
is he to you and how far away?"
Next to her, Gamon stirred but stayed quiet, and in the sudden tension- Dion felt her heart
beat hard against her ribs. The fear is real enough, she told herself, but use it, don't let it
consume you.
"No one you'd know," she returned steadily. "Rhom has better taste than that.''
Grost did not even change expressions. "Try again, Healer."
She gave him a resigned sigh. ' 'All right, the truth is that he's a pet worlag I picked up on
the way. Looks kind of like you, in fact. Same beady eyes, same black and blue face "
The raider's smile did not reach his eyes. "I can make things very unpleasant for you, you
know." He reached over and fingered her chin again, chuckling when she shrank away
from him. "Brave Jittle girl," he mocked. "What would you do if I decided to buy you for
myself?" His smile died suddenly, the fire's shadows darkening his face. "Who is Rhom?"
he demanded.
Dion looked down, not answering, and the raider's slap almost caught her by surprise,
rocking her head back. Stay! she shouted at Hishn, stopping the instinctive leap with her
command as she licked blood from her lip. The blow had been emotionless and brutal,
Grost merely using his hands to get the information he wanted, and she was shocked more
by that than the act itself. She stifled her gasp and caught her breath, answering in a low,
trembling voice. "My grandfather."
Grost leaned back and eyed her thoughtfully. "Grandfather, huh? How far from here is the
old man?''
38
Tara K. Harper
She hesitated, waited for him to raise his hand to threaten her again, and kept her voice
high and hurried as if she were trying to get the words out before his hand fell. It was not
difficult. "Two days, maybe less," she said as the words tumbled over each other, "if he
goes quickly. He went to get help for the wagons before we were attacked.'' Her eyes
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flickered to the dark shadow behind Bolan, and she licked her torn lip again. Wait, Gray
One. Soon, soon we'll both fight.
Grost thought for a minute, nodded to himself as if figuring distances, and asked, "Can you
cook?"
Dion said nothing, hoping she had gained some leeway by letting him think her rebellion
would be verbal and not physical but feeling honestly mutinous and insulted at the same
time. By the moons, all healers could cook. Why learn only the bitter ways to use herbs?
The raider slapped her again, and the blood from her cut lip fed her fury. "Can you cook?"
he repeated pleasantly. She could feel the heat in her face and the flash in her eyes, but she
held her temper. Movement means opportunities, she told herself, tasting blood on her
tongue. Hishn's own image of blood was as much a goad as the rage that smoldered deep
inside. Not yet, she told herself as much as the wolf. Just a little longer. . .
Grost retied her hands a foot apart again, pulled her to her feet, and pointed at the fire and
the pot hanging over it. "Do something with that,'' he said. She remained silent but [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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