She tugged on her bonds, testing their strength. Her captors had trussed her more thoroughly than a pig set for slaughter, and if her blurring vision and pounding head were clues, they'd drugged her for good measure.
A pair of muddy boots suddenly planted themselves in front of her. Anhuset arched her neck for a better view of their wearer. He crouched in front of her, revealing a boyish visage with a sweet smile and the empty-eyed stare of a murderer. She didn't have to be human to discern the trappings of madness lurking behind his eyes. Whatever stared at her from black pupils and hazel irises, it made her think of the galla in Haradis. Every hair on her nape stood on end.
“Finally awake,” he said in Common tongue. “I'm surprised you aren't dead with as many darts as we shot into you once you fainted. There was enough sleep elixir on those points to drop a warhorse. It really is true what they about the Kai—as strong as you are hideous.”
He was less than subtle with his baiting, and Anhuset didn't rise to the insult. She met his stare with an unwavering one of her own until he stood up and put some distance between them. He motioned to someone standing nearby. “Remove her gag.”
“What if she tries to bite?”
Count on it, she thought.
The chill in the killer's tone would have frozen a lit brazier. “Then I suggest you don't get your fingers too close to her mouth.”
Coward. For all his posturing and the dead gaze, this man was craven. Was he the group's leader? And if so, what idiot followed a commander who ordered his men to do what he wouldn't do himself?
Another man skirted a wide circle around her until he stood behind her. A painful jerk on her hair, and the gag fell from her mouth. This time when the first man squatted in front of her, he wasn't nearly as close. “Sha-Anhuset of the Kai.” Her eyebrows arched, and his satisfied smirk made her want to slap it off his face. “Yes, I know your name. You're the first Kai I've ever seen this close. Eyes that glow like a wolf's in the dark. If the rest look like you, then you're an ill-favored bunch. I pity the Gauri woman who married your regent. Poor bitch. Terrible fate being fucked every night by ugly Kai cock.”
Anhuset had heard worse remarks from better adversaries. “Where's my horse?”
“That's what concerns you? No worries for the great man himself or the rest of your party?” He shook his head, clucking his disappointment. A crowd had gathered behind him. He addressed them this time. “Aren't you lads glad you don't have this unfeeling cunt to lead you? More interested in her nag's fate than her comrades'.” A chorus of jeers met his remark. He turned back to her, his sneer aging his youthful features. “Your nag is unharmed, tethered not far from the margrave's stallion. You'll not be needing it.”
She had no intention of letting him see her worry for the others so he could use it against her. “You know who I am.” This time she allowed a matching sneer to creep into her voice. “I can't say the same about you. Why did you attack us?”
He waved another man over to stand with the one currently hovering behind her. “Sit her up. I'm tired of bending down to have this conversation.”
The pair did as he ordered, yanking her roughly from her recumbent position so that she sat, still hunched over, her back aching from the strain, her hands still numb. The bright sun making her squint hung in the sky, arcing toward the west. Early afternoon. She'd been insensate almost a day, brought down first by strangulation and kept that way by a sleep elixir administered via darts.
Her captor loomed over her, arrogant and bloated with triumph. She'd hand over a decade of her lifespan to a god for the chance to split him from throat to gullet with her sword, her knives, or her claws. She wasn't picky.
“I was paid a hefty sum to capture you and the margrave,” he said. “And expect an equally nice ransom for the enchanted monk.” His shoulders went back and his chest out. “I'm Chamtivos Havonas, lord of these lands.” He scowled. “Or so I was before the Nazim monks stole them from me.”
So this was the infamous warlord who wrought havoc in the Lobak valley and surrounding areas. A boil on the arse of many, if the gossip she'd overheard among the ferry crew was anything to go by. His revelations answered some of her unspoken questions. Serovek was still alive, though in what condition she could only guess. Megiddo was likewise somewhere in the camp, though from her limited vantage point, she couldn't tell if his body still lay in the wagon or had been removed. No mention of Erostis or Klanek, and she feared the worst.
“If we're still alive, then you want something,” she said. Captives were troublesome to hold, expensive to keep alive. Even paid handsomely to take them captive, Chamtivos said nothing about ransom for her or Serovek. She wondered who'd paid the warlord and why. Her first guess was Ogran, but a lowly tracker in the service of his lord didn't possess the funds needed to entice someone like Chamtivos to attack a margrave and hold him prisoner.
Chamtivos beamed his approval. “I like the way you think, Kai woman. Those bastard monks will pay a fortune to have their brother returned to them. You and the margrave? Well, he's someone's inconvenience, and you're a challenge. The two of you will offer me and my men a good bit of entertainment before we get rid of you.”
His foreboding explanation didn't surprise Anhuset. She was astonished he'd allowed her and Serovek to live this long, but their time ran short. If she didn't find
