but left a clear head and renewed energy behind it.
'Goddess -- oh, Goddess, I have to -- ' she started to rise, but Justin's hands on her shoulders prevented her.
'You have to stay right where you are. You want to get yourself killed?' Ikan asked soberly. 'You're a professional, Shin'a'in -- act like one.'
'All right;' Justin said calmly, as she sank back to the stone. 'Something's happened to your oathsister. Any clue as to what -- '
' -- or who?' Ikan finished. 'Or why? You're not rich enough to ransom, and too new in Mornedealth to have acquired enemies.'
'Why and who -- I've got a damn good idea,' Tarma replied grimly, and told them, in brief, Kethry's history.
'Gods, how am I to get her away from them? I don't know where to look, and even if I did, what's one sword against what Wethes can hire?' she finished in despair. 'Why, oh why didn't I listen to her?'
'Kavin -- Kavinestral -- hmm,' Justin mused. 'Now that sounds familiar.'
'It bloody well should,' Ikan replied, stoppering his precious bottle tightly and tucking it inside his tunic. 'He heads the Blue faction.'
'The -- what?' Tarma blinked at him in bewilderment.
'There are five factions among the wilder offspring of the Fifty; Blue, Green, Red, Yellow, and Black. They started out as racing clubs, but it's gotten down to a nastier level than that within the last few years,' Ikan told her. 'Duels in plenty, one or two deaths. Right now only two factions are strong enough to matter; Blue and Green. Kavin heads the Blues; a fellow called Helansevrith heads Green. They've been eyeblinks away from each other's throats for years, and the only thing that has kept them from taking each other on, is that Kavin is essentially a coward. He'd rather get his followers to do his dirty work for him. He makes a big pose of being a tough, but he's never personally taken anyone out. Mostly that doesn't matter, since he's got his followers convinced.'
He stood up, offering his hand to Tarma. 'I can give you a quick guess who could find out where Kethry is, because I know where Wethes won't take her. He won't dare take her to his home, his servants would see and gossip. He won't risk that, because the tale he's given out all these years is that Kethry is very shy and has been staying in seclusion on his country estate. No, he'll take her to his private brothel; I know he has one, I just don't know where. But Justin's got a friend who could tell us.'
'That she could -- and be happy to. Any harm she could bring that man would make her right glad.' Even in the dim light from the torch over the door Tarma could see that Justin looked grim.
'How do you know all this about Wethes and Kavin?' Tarma looked from one to the other of them.
'Because, Swordlady,' Ikan's mouth stretched in something that bore very little resemblance to a smile, 'my name wasn't always Dryvale.'
* * * Kethry had wedged herself back into a corner of her barren, stone-floored cell. Wethes stood over her, candle-lantern in one hand, gloating. It was the very worst of her nightmares come true.
'What's mine remains mine, dear wife,' he crowed. 'You won't be given a second chance to escape me. I bought you, and I intend to keep you.' He was enjoying every moment, was taking pleasure in her fright, just as he had taken pleasure in her pain when he'd raped her.
Kethry was paralyzed with fear, her skin crawling at the bare presence of him in the same room with her. What would she do if he touched her? Her heart was pounding as if she'd been running for miles. And she thought wildly that if he did touch her, perhaps her heart would give out.
He bent and darted his hand forward suddenly, as if intending to catch one of her arms, and she gave a little mew of terror and involuntarily kicked out at him with her bound feet.
His startled reaction took her completely by surprise.
He jumped backward, eyes widening, hands shaking so that the candle flame wavered. Fear was a mask over his features -- absolute and utter fear of her. For one long moment he stared at her, and she at him, hardly able to believe what her own eyes were telling her.
He was afraid of her. For all his puffing and threatening, he was afraid of her!
And in that moment she saw him for what he was -- an aging, paunchy, greedy coward. Any sign of resistance in an adult woman obviously terrified him.
She kicked out again, experimentally, and he jumped back another pace.
