For the next few minutes, the sisters sat in silence, listening to the men complain of the stew, their sore muscles, their tiredness of traveling, and their desire to return home.
“Then back to Chiran, right?” Borka asked.
“An’ quickly,” Kader said. “I don’ wanna be responsible for ’em any longer ’an necess’ry. We let Zarek deal with ’em.”
“Still, we could have some fun ’long the way,” Nibal said with a hint of laughter, of disdain, of menace even, in his voice.
“Ya’ll not touch ’em,” Kader growled.
“I suppose you’re savin’ ’em for yourself?” Borka asked.
The sounds of a chair scraping against the floor, then the ring of steel, carried in the air.
Kader, now on his feet, held his sword. He glared at his men. “If any of ya touch ’em, I’ll kill ya.”
“Wasn’t serious. Whew.”
“Lighten up, Kader,” Nibal said. “We can’t afford tuh lose no one. It’ll take all of us tuh do this. That’s why Platon wasn’t able to get ’em when he was there earlier, scoutin’.”
One of the men, who’d remained silent throughout, threw his fork down. “Let’s go then,” he growled.
The men slowly stood and gathered their belongings, and then to the sound of creaking leather, made their way to the door.
Silently, the twins watched. They counted eight men in the contingent.
“Thank the Good One they didn’t see our faces,” Eden said when they were gone. “There are not all that many twins, you know.”
“Hmmm.” Reigna pushed her dinner plate away. “They’re headed for the compound.”
“They’re headed to get us.”
“We should go back to warn the others. If any harm comes to them, it’ll be all our fault.”
“I don’t think so.”
“But they’ll be in danger!”
Eden shook her head. “Always the warrior.”
“Come on. They might need our help.”
“There are enough people—guards and others trained for such events—at the compound to head those men off. In the meantime, the farther we get from here—from the compound—the better.”
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