Fidelias stepped forward, and Amara moved to follow him. Aldrick put a hand on Fidelias's chest and said, "Just you. Not the slave."

Fidelias blinked, "You expect me to just leave her out here, good master? It could be dangerous." He shot Amara a glance, which she did not miss. A warning. "To leave a pretty young girl in a camp full of soldiers."

Aldrick said, "You should have thought of that before you came here. They won't kill her. Get inside."

Fidelias looked back at her and licked his lips. Then he stepped forward into the tent. Aldrick looked at Amara for a moment, his eyes distant, cool. Then he stepped back inside. A moment later, he came back to the opening of the tent, dragging a girl with him. She was petite, even emaciated, and her clothes hung off of her like a scarecrow's. The collar around her neck, even on its smallest sizing, hung loosely. Her brown hair looked dry, brittle as hay, and she had dust on her skirts, though her feet were clean enough. Aldrick shoved the girl out unceremoniously and said, "Business." Then he tugged the flap of the tent closed and went back inside.

The girl tumbled to the ground, along with a woven basket, and landed with a soft cry in a tangle of basket and skirts and frizzy hair.

Amara knelt down beside the girl and asked, "Are you all right?"

"Oh, fine," the girl snapped. She rose shakily to her feet and kicked a puff

of dust at the tent with her toe. "Bastard," she muttered. "Here I am trying to clean things up for him, and he throws me around like a sack of meal." Her eyes sparkled with defiance, and she turned to Amara. "I'm Odiana."