"You're here between breakfast and lunch," said the soldier. "Or I'd offer you some food."

"Perhaps we'll take lunch with you, master," Fidelias said.

"Perhaps." The soldier stopped and looked up at Amara, studying her with quiet, hard eyes. "Get her down. I'll send out a groom or two to care for your beast."

"No," insisted Fidelias. "I'll be keeping my goods with me."

The soldier grunted. "There's horses at the camp, and they'll go mad if they smell this thing. It stays here."

"Then I stay here," insisted Fidelias.

"No."

"The slave then," he said. "She can stay here with the beast and keep him quiet. He'd spook if strange hands cared for him."

The soldier squinted at him, hard and suspicious. "What are you up to, old man?"

"Up to? I'm protecting my interests, master, as any merchant would."

"You are in our camp. Your interests are no longer an issue, are they?" The soldier put no particular emphasis on his words, but he laid one hand on the hilt of his sword.

Fidelias drew himself up, voice shocked and outraged. "You wouldn't dare."

The soldier smiled. His smile was hard.

Fidelias licked his lips. Then shot a glance up at Amara. She thought she saw something in it, some kind of warning, but he only said, "Girl. Get down."

Amara slid down off of the back of the beast, using the leather straps to help lower herself down its flanks. Fidelias clucked to it and jerked down on its straps, and the gargant settled lazily to earth with a contented rumble that shook the ground nearby. It leaned its great head over, tore up a mouthful of grass, and began chewing on it, huge eyes half-closed.

"Follow me," the soldier said. "You too, slave. If either of you gets more than three strides away from me, I'll kill you both. Do you understand?"