unit.
Archeth looked back at the men. They were all clutching at charms or making signs. A number of them wore dueling scars, it was impossible to be sure which man the voice had singled out, but mistrustful glances went back and forth. Someone needed to lock this down, fast. She cleared her throat, lifted her chin a little for want of a more specific direction to address herself in.
You are the messenger Manathan promised?
No, I m a random demonic voice in the wilderness. From down in the crater, there was a loud crack.
Of course I m the messenger, daughter of Flaradnam. Don t you see the smoke? Now would you be kind enough to get down here and arrange some transport back to Yhelteth for me? It really is a matter of some urgency.
And, in the heat haze at the center of the crater, sudden movement.
CHAPTER 9
They were still raping Poppy Snarl when the red edge of the sun cleared the scrubland horizon to the east.
Ringil sat on a rise near the overseers tents and listened, staring into the early sunlight as if it were the wind. He was out of meaningful distractions; he d cleaned the Ravensfriend with lengthy care, put it to rest in the scabbard on his back; he d watched Eril s ragtag mercenary crew check on the bodies of the march-masters and the imperials, slitting the odd throat where necessary but mostly just looting pockets; he d searched Snarl s tents for anything remotely useful, upending boxes and ripping the seals off parchment rolls, perusing ornately written documents that were either numbingly banal or in impenetrable cipher.
Pointless, all of it the sounds of the rape stalked him whatever he did, Snarl s screams winding down to sobbing and finally a low, infrequent moaning; the men s grunting hilarity chasing an oddly similar decline, as if the less resistance there was, the less they were comfortable with what they were doing.
It was the sound of the war, all over again.
Eril came and joined him, squatted at his side. Ringil nodded his acknowledgment, didn t really look at him.
How d we do?
Pretty good all around. We lost seven men in the fight here, plus another four still unaccounted for, might have gotten lost in the forest. Couple of wounded. Pargil, the big fat guy? He got his arm hacked up pretty bad, probably going to lose it when we get him to a surgeon. But he can walk for now. The other s gutted, we ll have to carry him. No one else got worse than gashes.
Ringil ran the count in his head.
That leaves eighteen.
Nineteen. There s that old guy we took on at Hreshim s Landing last week.
Right. Forgot all about him.
Quiet and seeping into it the small, muffled noises that Poppy Snarl still made. The grunting of the men. Eril seemed to read something in Ringil s face as they listened. He cleared his throat.
You want me to stop that?
Ringil switched a glance at him, saw how the Marsh Brotherhood man flinched from it. He looked away again, into the sun.
I mean. Eril hesitated. You said, you didn t want her to
Die? The word ghosted out of him. He made an effort, pulled himself back in from the gray margins of his own thoughts. Poppy Snarl came up in harbor end. She was running with the Brides of Silt before she was ten years old. Bossing them by the time she hit fifteen. It takes more than a gang rape to kill someone like that.
Eril thought he heard a reluctant admiration behind the words. He shifted on his haunches, cleared his throat again.
Okay, but these men, you know, they re not exactly well, with the purse we had, how fast we had to do the hiring, they re not going to be the most
Soldiers rape, Ringil said harshly. Regardless of what they re paid. It s what they do. You think this is the first time I ve had to listen to
His jaw tightened. He came to his feet abruptly, as if levered there by some mechanism Eril couldn t see.
Fuck this shit, he whispered.
He stalked down the rise to where the latest in a short, scruffy queue of men was heaving himself up and down on Snarl s spread-eagled naked form. The man had his breeches down to his boots, his unbuckled sword belt, sword, and sheath cast aside in a hasty tangle. He made a throaty gasping sound each time he thrust into the woman under him.
Ringil grabbed him by the unkempt hair and pulled him off. Got a strangled yelp from the man, dumped him sideways across his discarded belt and sword.
That s enough.
The interrupted man scrabbled halfway to his feet, one hand cupping down to cover his still-erect and throbbing prick, the other fumbling for the hilt of his sword. His face was a mask of slit-eyed fury. His voice came out choking.
You. Fucking
Fingers found and fastened on the sword hilt.
Do it, Ringil told him. Give me a reason.
He held the stare. Hoped for the two heartbeats it took that the man wouldn t back down. Because this one he could feel it trembling through him now this one, he d do with his bare hands.
The man s prick shrank and shriveled, hung like the neck on a plucked and slaughtered hen. His fingers slipped free of the sword hilt. He looked away, dribbled out a feeble, halfway laugh.
Yeah, all right. Whatever. He got awkwardly to his feet, tugged his breeches up his legs as he rose. No fucking loss anyway. Had better up against a wharf post in Baldaran.
Ringil thinned his lips, found the serrated edges of his front teeth with the tip of his tongue. He still wanted to kill this man.
Get your gear back on, he said tightly. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, brushing the hilt of the Ravensfriend with his loosely curled knuckles. Go do what you ve been paid for. Get down there and start cutting the shackles off these people.
The man hesitated, licked his lips. Something cheering seemed to occur to him, and the frown cleared off his face. He buckled his breeches closed, bent, and picked up his sword. As he straightened up, Ringil stepped in close and grabbed him by the shoulder. Got in his face and nailed him with another stare.
And you leave the women alone. You ve had all the fun you re going to today. I catch you trying this with anybody else, I ll hamstring you and leave you out here for the hyenas. Got that?
Stiff silence, and the death-house reek of the man s breath in his face. Ringil s free hand curled into a fist at his side.
I said: Have you got that?
The man swallowed, then dropped his gaze. He tugged sullenly free of Ringil s grasp, stepped back.
Yeah, man, I got it, I fucking got it all right? Just leave me the fuck alone. What did I do, huh? What did I fucking do?
He slouched away down the slope, jerking angrily at his sword belt where it had settled too high on his waist. Ringil turned to watch, and his gaze swept across the line of men still waiting there.
You too. Fun s over. We set these people free, we see that they re fed. Jengthir, you make sure that s what happens.
The men looked at one another doubtfully. Jengthir cleared his throat.
My lord, it s uh that s going to take a long time. We re not
Do I look like I want your fucking advice?
