"Let up, Cal. I've got her." The tall man gave a final squeeze, and loosed her throat. Paks gasped for air; it seemed to scrape her throat as it went in. She could not stand upright with the pressure on her arms. The shorter man increased it, and forced her to her knees. The tall man bent near her; she could smell the ale on his breath.

"Listen to me, sweetheart—you're going to help us, and you're going to give us a good time. If you do it right, you'll get a little reward out of it—maybe this ring. If you act stupid, like you just did, you'll die hurting. Now—do you understand?"

Paks could not speak for terror and pain. She was shaking all over, and tears sprang from her eyes.

"I asked you a question." A knife had appeared in the tall man's hand; it pricked her throat. Paks heard herself moan, a terrible sound that she did not know she could make.

"Simyits save us all," muttered the shorter man, behind her. "It's no wonder they have this one in the stable. No wits at all."

"No wits, the better lay."

"Kevis—"

"Well, Cal, you know the saying. It tames wild mares and witches. Why not a stable hand?"

"What about time?"

"So how long does it take?"

"You may be right." Paks heard the grin in the voice behind her, and saw the man in front fumble with his trousers.

"I'll go first."

"Greedy—you always go first." The man behind her let go her arms, and Paks fell face-down in the straw. She rolled away, trying again to escape, but they caught her. The tall man backhanded her across the face, knocking her into the back of the stall.

"That's for the bite, slut. Now don't cause trouble." He grabbed her shirt, and ripped it open. "What a beauty!" His voice was cold. "Where'd you get those scars—somebody whip you once?"

"More than once," said the other one. "By the dark goddess, I never saw anything like that outside of Liart's temples in Aarenis. Kevis—"

"Don't bother me, Cal." The tall man tugged at her belt. "I'm busy."

"Kevis, wait. If this is Liart's bait—"

"Cal, I don't care if it's the crown princess of Tsaia—"

"But Kevis—" The shorter man pulled at his companion's arm. "Listen to me. I know what I mean—Liart won't like it if that's one of his."

"Liart can go—" He had broken the belt, and forced his hands between her thighs. Paks tried to struggle, but he had her wedged against the wall where she could not move.

"Don't say that!" The shorter man used enough force to pull the other's arm away. "Kevis, it's serious. Liart is a jealous god; he'll kill—and I know how he kills—"

"Don't bother me!" The taller man turned away from Paks and pulled his knife. "Hells blast you, Cal, you're as craven as she is. Get back—"

"No! I'm not having any part of this if she's Liart's—"