But now she must put all thoughts of this impossible talent from her own mind. She must order things done so that none of the others should know. She would order all discussion of the escape forbidden. Should Stallan die? For a moment she considered it—then rejected it. The hunter was too valuable. Stallan would obey the order for silence, would enjoy obeying it since she would certainly remember how close she had been to death before Vaintè’s anger. When she had composed herself Vaintè drew Enge’s attention.

“Is the creature badly hurt?”

“I cannot tell. It is bruised and cut, but that could be all. See, it stirs, its eyes are open.”

Kerrick looked up blurredly at the two murgu standing above him. He had failed to escape, he hurt, and he had failed. There would be another time.

“Tell me what you feel,” Vaintè ordered, and he was surprised at the worry in her words.

“I hurt. All over.” He moved his arms and legs. “That is all. I hurt all over.”

“That is because you tried to escape,” Vaintè said. “You took your chance when Stallan let go of your leash. I will arrange matters in the future so that this will never happen again.”

Kerrick was not too tired or sore to notice the elision in Vaintè’s words, the obvious leaving out of a statement. Vaintè must know what he had said to Stallan to make her drop the leash. Enge did not notice, but he did. He saw that knowledge and wondered at it, then forgot it. He hurt too much.

One of Vanalpè’s students came and dressed his wounds—and after that he was left completely alone for many days while they healed. The student brought food every morning, then checked the progress of his healing. There were no more language lessons—nor did he have to suffer the attentions of the dreaded Stallan. His manacles were removed, but the door was always securely locked.

When the pain lessened enough he thought about his attempt to escape—and what had gone wrong. He would not be trapped that way next time. He would avoid the false vines, leap over them, and flee into the jungle.

Had he really seen the bearded face there among the leaves? Or was it just wishing, hoping, that had placed it there? He could not be sure. Maybe it was only his desire that someone be there, waiting. It did not matter. He did not need any help. Just the chance to run. The next time they would not stop him.