“Pretty girl,” said the older man, measuring her.

Nallo rose and pushed through the brush, splintering stalks in her haste to get to the path before they could do anything awful to Avisha. She flung herself to her knees before the older man. “Don’t kill us, I pray you. We’ve done you no harm. Don’t kill us. Take me if you must, but leave the girl alone.”

The laughing soldiers fell silent. The older man pulled off his helmet. He had a pleasant face, even if he did look and talk like a foreigner.

“The pretty girl, she is your sister? You not look alike.”

“She’s my husband’s daughter.”

“Your husband, where is he?”

“He is dead.”

She cursed herself silently the moment she said it, but the man nodded as he looked from her to Avisha and Zianna, then past them. Jerad came running, and he flung himself at Avisha and hid his face against the fabric of her tunic.

“You are walking from your house to your kinfolk, maybe?”

“That’s right. They’re expecting us.”

He rubbed his chin again, looked over at the younger soldiers where they guarded the children. “Maybe they are dead, also.”

Three soldiers appeared on the path above and studied the scene, grinning as they spoke to their companions. Farther away, a man’s shriek cut off abruptly.

“Please don’t hurt us.” Her mouth formed soundless prayers.

He shifted his sword to the same hand that was also holding his helmet, and with his free hand wiped sweat and maybe blood from his eyes, careful as he cleaned his brows, rather like the eagle in his fastidiousness. One of the younger men spoke in rapid words she could not understand, and the older man laughed and, with a friendly smile—or perhaps a mocking one—turned back to her.

“My young comrade wants to know if you and the pretty girl are looking for husbands. We are looking for wives.”

Why had they to suffer all this, and now more besides? Anger boiled over, and words spilled out. “We can’t stop you from doing what you want. But don’t mock us by calling us ‘wives’!”

He laughed, face crinkling. “Whew! My ears are burning. You remind me of my wife, may she find peace.”

“Then if you have a wife, you can’t be looking for a wife.”

“She’s dead many years. I am not mocking you.” He offered an affable grin. “Maybe I am having a little fun. We could rape you and kill you. This is true. But that gives pleasure for a moment, and not much pleasure when you come to think of it afterward. Maybe we are wanting something different. We are new to this country. We intend to settle in lands west and north of Olossi. So, if you are looking for husbands, I know where some can be found.” He indicated the five mounted men.

Startled by this speech, she really examined the soldiers. They looked different from Hundred folk in having broad cheekbones and scant beards, but she could tell them apart even with the helmets covering their hair: one had a long, dour face and small eyes, and another a big grin and two missing teeth. One had pox scars and a thoughtful gaze, while the one with the roundest face had a markedly reddish-brown complexion. The one with pretty eyes and regular features kept glancing at Avisha in the way men had when they were thinking more of their strut than their manners. Not that these men need have manners. They carried weapons.