But not to Galt, who had to know of Therez’s defection. Or maybe Galt wouldn’t care. He might like a reason to punish her as well. He might even like her better this way. He might use the knowledge like a bit and chain to keep her tamed. The thought made her dizzy.
“Hey. Hey, Ilse.”
Brenn crouched beside her, Volker stood a few steps behind. Brenn had a pan of stew in one hand. A thick fragrant steam rose from the stew, which had thick chunks of bread floating in it.
“I brought you supper,” Brenn said. “Alarik said it was all right. Ilse, please look at me. It’s not my fault.”
He motioned for Volker to fetch the water. When Volker returned, Brenn held the water skin to Therez’s mouth while she drank.
“Alarik’s cussing like a storm cloud,” he said indifferently.
“What’d you expect?” Volker said. “Course, sometimes that means he’s in a good mood.”
“Sometimes.” Brenn wet a corner of his shirt and wiped the tears and blood from Therez’s face. “You should eat,” he said. “At least, while it’s hot. Makes it taste better.”
She shuddered. “I have to get away.”
“You can’t,” Brenn said gently.
“I have to. Didn’t you hear? He wants to sell me back to my father.”
“Ilse, hush. Listen to me. You have to play along with him. It’s easier that way—”
“No!” She was breathing hard now. “I won’t go back. He can’t make me.”
“He can,” Brenn cut in. He glanced toward the campfire, a dozen feet away. “Ilse, he likes his money, and he doesn’t like girls talking back. He won’t let you get away, not now.”
“So does my father. That’s why I left. I couldn’t—”
“Couldn’t what?” asked Volker.
Therez shivered, sick at the thought of home. Brenn stroked her hair, murmuring comfort. Volker lay on his stomach, staring at them. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe we could help.”
Therez stared, hope rising within her. “You could
?”
Brenn’s fingers twitched back from her hair. “Are you mad? Alarik would kill us. He knows how you’ve been looking at her, Volker.”
“He won’t know,” Volker insisted. “Not if we just get her a knife. She could wait until dark and cut the ropes. He won’t ever guess. At least we could if she—”
He broke off. A look passed between the brothers, and Therez’s mouth went dry. “If I do what?”
Volker dropped his gaze. “It’s like Brenn said,” he said slowly. “Alarik won’t like it if we help you. He’s got a temper. I was thinking we could make a trade. Something for you. Something for me and Brenn.”
With a faint shock, Therez realized what he meant. A trade. That kind of trade. “You want a lot.”
Volker looked up, his expression calculating. “So do you.”
Therez looked from one brother to the other. Volker’s eyes were bright with anticipation. Brenn was flushed with embarrassment, but she could see the change in his face, too.
“No,” she whispered. “I won’t do it.”
Volker shrugged and got to his feet. Brenn hesitated a moment, then he stood, too, and turned away. Therez hardly cared. It was too much, what they asked.
She tugged at the ropes, but the crew had tied the knots securely. She bit and chewed at the ropes. No good. Therez blew out a breath in frustration. If only she could beg someone’s mercy, but the crew would not dare to confront Brandt or Niko, and all the passengers had left the caravan a week or longer before.
All except the scholar. Her heart lifted momentarily with hope when she remembered him, remembered how he had treated her kindly and spoke of finding her a place in Duenne. Surely he could stand against the caravan master—