“You say so only because yours is the weak tribe, and mine is the strong. Do you mean to trouble me longer, or will you go, so I may be at peace?”

Mounted, Kirya was able to see over the heads of the crowd. Trying to hide around the curve of a tent stood Yara, the bitch, looking anxious as she surveyed the assembly. Over a distance, two gazes may meet. Yara jolted back, vanishing behind the tent.

Betrayed by their own tribesmen.

“The gods will judge in the end,” said Mariya.

“So they will. Are you finished?”

“We have brought ransom.”

The war leader snorted, and people guffawed and chortled.

The Vidrini headwoman smiled. “Do you mean to return to my cousin’s nephew the pretty baubles he gifted you? I see you wear them still. I gave them to him myself, when he told me of his plan.”

Mariya ignored the laughter and gaily spoken taunts. She waited for a proper response.

“What can you offer us? We relieved you of everything of value, except the piebald mare. I hear it bolted when the gelding broke free.” The headwoman ran a covetous hand over the belly of the winged kur. Kirya found her teeth on edge, her jaw tight, wanting to crush that hand and knowing she could do nothing to get Feder’s kur back.

Mari said, “We have cloth worth the ransom of the children. We’ll trade it to you, in return for them.”

Her proud expression grew cunning. “Hu. I doubt it, but let’s see. I’m willing to bargain. It would amuse me.”

The man smirked, and Kira had a sudden idea that these two were lovers, even though the headwoman of a tribe and her war leader ought not be engaged in such a way. Desire clouded judgment, everyone knew that.

“I need to see they are safe and unharmed before I make my offer,” said Mariya.

“Very well. Go get them.” Her war leader did not move, but a ripple stirred the assembly as someone else hurried off into the camp. While they waited, Kirya examined the man boldly, knowing he had no right to look directly at her. He was a very good-looking man, with golden-white hair and light blue eyes, an arresting face, broad shoulders, and lean hips. Although not as handsome as Orphan with his black hair and leaner face, he was a man in his prime. Had he lured the foreign woman into the tribes with the promise of power and position? Or had she followed him out of lust, and ripped the leadership of the Vidrini tribe away from whatever hapless woman had held it before her? Feeling the pressure of Kirya’s gaze, he glanced toward her and, with a frown, looked away.

“Kiri! Kiri!”

Kirya rose on her stirrups. The gelding sidestepped, sensing her spurt of joy and relief. “We’re here.”

Three children came running, sobbing as they saw Mariya, and tumbled to a halt beside her. Her grim expression never wavered from the Vidrini headwoman.