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or a season or a year. Raiders don't wait for women to come to them anymore."
The older man opened his mouth and then closed it, and Aranur had a sudden realization
that she was right. Ever since the raiders had started pushing inland, women and even
men were in more and more danger of abduction and slavery. For Dion, her freedom was
the stakes each time she left her village, and on Journey, as far from home and safety as
she was, the odds against her grew higher every day. The Gray One was her constant
companion, but even a wolf was no guarantee. And her skills in Abis she was strong and
quick and lithe, he knew, but he had never actually seen her fight if she went in with
Bentol and Rhom now, it would be on Gamon and Rhom's judgment. The blacksmith
would never put his twin in danger he was unsure of, and Gamon well, the old weapons
master had no equal in judging a person's fighting skills. And, Aranur reminded himself,
his uncle had seen the wolfwalker fight before.
"Gamon, Rhom," he said finally, "it's up to you. You both understand what we're going into
at this slave market."
Gamon*s face was still stubbornly closed to the idea, but Rhom sighed. "Dion's good," he
said. "More than good enough for the job, though I hate to admit it. But Dion, stay here.
You don't know what it'll be like. They'll treat you as if you were on the block, too, just
because you look different, unusual. If one of them decides he wants you, there may be a
fight anyway. We can manage without risking you, too."
Aranur turned to the trader. "How well does Mankarr know you, Bentol? And can you trust
him?"
Bentol nodded, then chuckled suddenly. "Like a brother."
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Aranur frowned but let the trader's private joke pass. "Who knows you besides him?"
"Mankarr actually knows me as one Altiss Hantinn, a merchant who deals in unusual
objects. Ob Clintner knows me, and Tbserva Nefarg. In fact, I should know all the
merchants at the sale. If Rhom and Dion came with me, their coloring would not
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be out of character for Altiss's exotic tastes. I could say that I'd bought Dion, then agreed
to take Rhom in service so he could be with his twin."
"It could work," Gamon admitted reluctantly.
"It will work," Bentol corrected impatiently.
"Gamon," Aranur said, "we're all in this together, and the risks are shared. And," he added
slyly, "think on this. While Salmi is playing the successful slaver, who is guarding his
strongbox? I think it would be only fair if he repaid the ransom we'll be paying him, don't
you?"
The older man shook his head. "All right," he said unhappily. "I don't like it, but I'11 go
along. Salmi must have collected something interesting these last few years. He's been
causing enough trouble doing it."
"Tyrel will go with you," the lean man decided. "As for me, if there's trouble, I want to be
ready to get Bentol and the rest out of there fast. I '11 rent a carriage for our merchant
Altiss and play driver instead. I'll pass for a stranger well enough in the dark. AH right?"
"Agreed," the trader said with relief.
Aranur turned to his cousin. "We don't have much time to get clothes. Tyrel, find us
another wharf rat to run a few errands. Bentol, you'd better go over whatever the buying
procedure is with Rhom and Dion. We can't afford to slip up and give ourselves away.
Gamon, while Tyrel's finding us some cheap labor, why don't we get a good look at Salmi's
boat."
VI
Ember Dione maMarin;
Slave Sale
What cost your pride ?
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It is free, for I can get more. What cost your skills ?
They are low, for I am a healer. What cost your body ?
It is high, for I am untouched. What cost your soul?
There is no cost, for it is not for sale.
It had been almost two ninans since Dion had worn anything but men's clothes, and the
soft black velvet felt good against her skin. The harem tunic was snug but not so snug that
she could not move in it if she had to, and the baggy pants were loose enough to conceal
the few weapons she would take. She admitted to a streak of vanity as she examined
herself critically in the mirror.
Going hunting? Hishn asked with a low teasing howl.
You be quiet, she told the wolf, adjusting her jewel pouch to hide hi the folds of the pants
and turning around to see if she had gotten the scarf to hang properly. You 're a plain,
ordinary mutt of an animal who has as little mind as the mute I'm supposed to be.
Supposed to be ? The wolf's yellow eyes gleamed as she licked a spot on her coat. Wait till
they hear your singing voice.
Dion made a face at her. Be quiet and let's get going. They can't wait forever for you to
finish preening yourself.
Aranur was waiting when the two came out from the hotel room. He did a double take,
seeing the healer for the first time
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in a woman's tunic and pants, but said nothing other than to ask if they were ready to go.
"Bentol is in the carriage with Rhom," he said, showing her to the carriage, Hishn padding
softly beside them. ' 'Remember, if there's trouble of any kind, get out of there. Don't wait
for Bentol or even your brother. Just run."
"Does Bentol have enough to buy your sisters back?" she asked.
"He should. We pooled all our money, and we picked up a little more from the raiders. Too
bad we couldn't have gotten into the raider's strongbox before Bentol goes in, but that
can't be helped." He gave the healer a hand up to the carriage. "I'd like to see that slaver
captain, Salmi's, face when he finds out we paid for the girls with his own money."
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Hishn jumped in beside the woman and lay at her feet, yellow eyes following the city lights
in the windows as Aranur drove the trader and his servants to Mankarr's home. There
were already four carriages waiting with their drivers when they arrived. As Bentol had
arranged, they were expected: They did not even get to the steps before the merchant
Mankarr appeared in the brightly lit doorway of his house.
"Altiss," he cried, and Dion frowned till she remembered that the trader had said that
Mankarr knew him by another name. "What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in. You
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