At first I don’t think it’s weird — he might need to go behind a bush, too. But a little while later the man next to me is gone, too. And this time, I get a short glimpse of the attacker.

“But I can see that the Krast tribe is the best on Xren,” I say, louder than before to drown out any noise the attacker might make. “Very big, the Krast men. Not complain about injuries…”

The next to go is the last man holding a rope attached to me. This time I see the whole attack — the man gets yanked back by a string that’s suddenly around his throat. It prevents him from making a sound and forces him to walk backwards into waiting arms.

“... but that’s what I think. Oh, I should quiet, should not I? Sorry.” I stop talking and stand still, letting the tired Krast mentrudge on without looking behind them. Soon they’re out of sight.

Korr’ax grabs my hand and quickly leads me off into the bushes.

There’s a heap of Krast men on the ground, each clawing at a thin string at his throat. Dren’in is there too, I notice, solidly bound.

But only Korr’ax matters to me.

We stand and look at each other, not able to talk because the still clueless Krast men might hear.

His eyes shoot green fire, and I expect some kind of fury from him because of the way I just left.

But he only strokes the side of my neck where the necklace was.

There’s an alarmed yell from the direction where the Krast were walking, and Korr’ax draws his sword.

“I’m happy to see you,” he rumbles. “Now you will see how a Borok and Tretter chief deals with several enemy warriors.”

Three Krast men come running, having finally discovered I’m not there.

Korr’ax attacks them from the side, roaring with fury.

And it is a fury as from some ancient god of war. Swords clang together, sparks fly, men scream. It takes maybe twenty seconds before all three Krast men are on their knees, begging for mercy, their notched and broken swords thrown away.

“That was extremely unwise,” he says as he ties them up and puts them with the others. “Taking the wife of a Borok and Tretter chief! Tying her up! I should put you all on your pyreswithout killing you first! But you’re losing the war, and seeing my wife again has made me so happy that I won’t even kill you. Your injured friends will find you and free you soon enough.”

“Dren’in,” I begin. “He said had message for me. From Piper. I had to meet her in jungle, he said. Not was true. He betray me, give me to Krast.”

There’s much more to say, but I’m not going to have a domestic argument in front of a captive audience.

“I thought so. You were tied up, he was not.” Korr’ax bends down to release the traitor. “And you were holding her sword, Dren’in. Why was that?” His voice is soft, but deadly.

Finally able to breathe freely, Dren’in wheezes and coughs, his face crimson. “They said. I would be. The chief. Of the Krast,” he manages between gulps of air.

“Have you seen Piper?” I ask, wanting to make sure.

“No. I tracked her. But there. Was a Big. I lost track.”

“Which way was she going?”

“Towards. The ocean.”

Korr’ax looks at me. “He’s a good tracker. It may be true.”

I shrug. “We not will look for her. It’s her choice.”

“And yours,” Korr’ax rumbles, giving me a strange look. “But let us finish with this traitor. Dren’in, as the chief of the Borok tribe, I cast you out. You will stay off our turf forever. Any man may kill you on sight. You shall live the rest of your days without a tribe.”

Dren’in throws himself at Korr’ax’s feet. “Please, Chief, no! Don’t cast me out! I will be the lowliest servant! I will live outside thevillage! I will—”

“Quiet, outcast,” Korr’ax commands. “I should kill you. Indeed I will suggest to Bryar that she do that.” He turns to me. “Bryar, this outcast betrayed you. I recommend that you kill him to deter treason from others.”

I take back my sword and heft it in my hand. Dren’in’s panicked eyes follow my movements.