Poor World Read Free Page A

clear he didn’t care what I decided.
    Ordinarily that would have served as a warning. I mean, why come and offer something if you don’t really want to be accepted? If I’d looked beyond that, maybe things would have gone differently ... or not.
    Anyway I didn’t.
    â€œThat’s nice,” I said in a sugary little-kid voice. Then, more normally, “Make it somewhere else. C’mon, girls.” I turned my back.
    I’d taken about four steps when the creep gave a whistle that somehow managed to sound bored.
    At once a whole gaggle of creeps — adults all, though some of them were youngish — efficiently ringed us, a couple from the trees and others from hiding places. I glanced at Dhana, who looked surprised. So, the creep had picked the time and place, huh? On our territory?
    And without us knowing?
    That was my first hint of real danger ahead. These weren’t uncertain Chwahir, their eyes magically enhanced to see in the Shadowland but clumsy out in the daylight, who didn’t know how to climb trees much less hide in one. These folk had all been well trained by someone.
    I pulled my knife and whirled around — and because that slob with the feathered cap was smiling so smugly (he hadn’t bothered to move) I said loudly — with as much disgust as possible — ”I might have known.”
    Meanwhile, his whistle-squad was slowly advancing, tightening the ring round us.
    I took a couple running steps and leaped, catching hold of a tree branch. From the edge of my vision I saw a long arm reach to grab me, just an instant before I swung out of range. Tree-climbing we’re very good at; I swung, let go, flew, caught a branch just above where their leader still leaned.
    Whoever was chasing me had misjudged my direction, and was further hampered by orders to grab-but-not-hurt, so I was able to swing my feet down and clop the leader creep on the side of the jaw, a hefty kick.
    He hadn’t expected it — he hadn’t even looked up. He staggered, angry now. I laughed, even though my toes hurt, and reached for another branch. My plan was to drop out of grabbing range so I could get the girls into hand-holding reach and transfer us to safety — but I didn’t get that far.
    The man drew his sword, and took a swing at me. I kicked wildly, struggling too fast to get out of his range, suddenly afraid I was about to be sliced into cutties.
    The flat of the blade thwacked me squarely across my stomach.
    â€œFoof!” I dropped onto the grass below, a hilt hit behind my ear, and that was that.

Two
    I started waking up when someone dumped me onto a chair. A hard wooden chair.
    My cheek leaned against a chair back, which hurt, and the back of my head and neck throbbed like a herd of horses had stomped me. Without opening my eyes or moving, I did a quick assessment of myself. No other hurts besides the back of my skull, good — bad, my knife, and belt, were gone.
    I became aware of voices. Men’s voices. They were arguing. Or one was. The other was too soft and flat-toned to ascribe any kind of emotion to. They spoke in another language — but of course I understood it. Clair had performed the Universal Language spell on our medallions as soon as she’d mastered the magic.
    â€œ... any kind of finesse? If I’d wanted them half dead I would have said so.” That was the soft voice.
    â€œYour Mearsiean brat gave me trouble.” I knew that drawl.
    The soft voice uttered a soft laugh. “That fat lip serves you right. How’d she get past your guard?”
    â€œKick. From above.” The drawling voice was sharp with annoyance now.
    More laughs, quick ones, hardly more than a breath. Whoever Soft Voice was, he didn’t have any more sympathy for Feather Cap than I had.
    Then: “They’re stirring. Out.” Then the sound of footfalls, and a door closed.
    I peeked open an eye, to find myself looking directly into a