“Your dogs will have bones to gnaw on, warrior!” The seller picked up the coin with a flourish. Bethral ignored him. She just stepped to the platform and carefully pulled the slave to a sitting position. Not so much as a groan to be heard. She eased him up onto her shoulder, paused to make sure she had her balance, and started walking in the direction of the inn. Blinking, Red watched her go, shook her head, and then ran to catch up. “What were you thinking?” she hissed softly. Not that she needed to bother. They drew no real attention, even though Bethral had a naked, filthy man over her shoulder. In point of fact, the townspeople were averting their eyes and minding their own ways. “I’ll not leave him in their hands.” Bethral’s voice was soft and somewhat breathless. For all that the slave was skin and bones, he was still a dead weight. And a stinking mess, truth be told. Red shifted the packages in her hands as she walked alongside Bethral. “What in the name of all of the Twelve are you going to do with him?”
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