The man halted uncertainly. He looked back at the woman. She lifted her chin. "We're the only ones here. Go away and forget you ever came."

So she knew the odds were against them. If his men fanned out, they could trap them in the cottage. He decided to push his advantage.

"I'm coming down. I just want to see that you are telling the truth. If she isn't here, we'll go away. We want no bloodshed. I just want to speak to the Ludluck woman."

The man glanced back at his woman. Brashen read uncertainty in her stance and hoped he was correct. Arms held well away from his sword, Brashen walked slowly toward the house. The closer he came, the more he doubted that they were the only people on the island. At least one other cottage had a well-trodden path to the door and a shimmer of smoke rising from its chimney. A very slight movement of the woman's head warned him. He turned just as a slender young woman launched herself from a tree. She was barefoot and unarmed but her fury was her weapon.

"Raiders. Raiders. Filthy raiders!" she yowled as she attacked with her fists and nails. He lifted his arm to shield his face from her nails.

"Ankle! No! No, stop, run away!" the other woman screamed. She came toward them at a lumbering run, her knife held high, the man only a step behind her.

"We're not slavers!" he told her, but Ankle only came at him more fiercely. He hunched away from her, then spun back to seize her around the waist. He managed to catch one of her wrists. She clawed and pulled hair with the other hand until he captured that, too. It was like hugging an angry cat. Her bare feet thudded against his shins while she bit his shoulder. His vest was thick, but it did not dull the savagery of her attack. "Stop it!" he shouted at her. "We're not slavers. I just need to talk to Kennit Ludluck's mother. That is all."

At the name Kennit, the girl in his arms went limp. He took advantage of the moment to heave her toward the woman with the knife. The woman caught her with one arm and then put her behind her. She held up a hand to halt Axe-man's headlong charge.

"Kennit?" she demanded. "Kennit sent you here?"

It didn't seem a good time to correct her. "I've a message for his mother."

"Liar. Liar. Liar!" The girl hopped up and down with rage, baring her teeth at him. "Kill him, Saylah. Kill him. Kill him." For the first time, Brashen realized all was not right with her mind. The man with the axe absently put a hand on her shoulder to calm her. There was something fatherly in the gesture. She stilled, but continued to pull faces at him. There was no exchange of glances; the woman was obviously thinking, and he now knew who was in charge here.

"Come on," Saylah said at length, gesturing at the cottage. "Ankle, you run fetch Mother. Now don't you alarm her, you just say a man is here with a message from Kennit. Go on." She turned back to Brashen. "My man Dedge is going to stand here and watch your men. If one of them moves, we'll kill you. Understand?"

"Of course." He turned back to the men. "Stay there. Do nothing. I'll be back."

A few heads bobbed agreement. None of them looked happy about it.

Ankle took off running. Her feet kicked up clods of dirt as she crossed a harvested garden. Dedge crossed his arms on his chest and fixed a glowering stare on Brashen's men. Brashen went with the woman.

The crowing of a rooster broke the gray afternoon, making him jump. He wondered suddenly if he had completely miscalculated. Tilled earth, chickens, sheep, goats, pigs… this island could support a substantial settlement. "Hurry up," Saylah snapped.

At the door of the cottage, she got in front of him. Once inside, she swooped up a lustily bawling baby and hugged the child to her, still keeping her knife at the ready. "Sit down," she ordered him.

He sat, looking curiously around the room. The furnishings spoke of folk with more time than skill. The table, the chairs, the bed in the comer looked like the work of their own hands. Everything was sturdy if not elegant. It was, in its own way, a cozy room. A small fire burned on the hearth and he found himself grateful for the warmth after the chill day. The baby quieted in his mother's arm. The woman began the universal rocking sway of women holding children.

"You have a nice home," he said inanely.

Her eyes widened in confusion. "It's good enough," she said grudgingly.

"And better than many another place we've both been, I'm sure."

"That's true," she conceded.

He put on his best Bingtown manners. Small talk while they waited for the lady of the house. He tried to sit as if he had confidence in her hospitality. "It's a good place to raise a boy. Plenty of room to run free, lots to explore. Healthy as he looks, it won't be long before he's ranging the whole island."

"Probably," she conceded, looking down for an instant at the baby's face.

"He's, what, about a year old?" Brashen hazarded a wild guess.

It brought a smile to her face. "Scarcely." Saylah gave the baby an affectionate bump. "But I think he is big for his age."

A sound outside the door brought her back to alertness, but Brashen dared to hope he had disarmed some of her distrust. He tried to maintain a relaxed posture as Ankle thrust her head into the room. She glared at him and pointed. "Raider. Liar," she asserted furiously.

"Ankle, go outside," Saylah ordered her. The younger woman stepped back, and Brashen heard an odd muttering from outside the door. When an older woman entered, a glance told him that she was the one he sought. Kennit had his mother's eyes. She tipped her head inquiringly at him. She carried a basket on one arm; wide-capped brown mushrooms glistened inside it.

She made an inquiring noise at Saylah, who stabbed toward Brashen with her knife. "He showed up, coming from the cove, with six men. He says he has a message for you from Kennit. But he asked for you as Lucky's widow, the Ludluck woman."

The older woman turned an incredulous gaze on Brashen. She raised her brows in an exaggerated gesture of surprise, and muttered something. Her lack of a tongue was not going to make any of this easier. He glanced at Saylah, wondering how best to proceed. Paragon had told him to be honest, but did that mean in front of witnesses?

He took a breath. "Paragon brought me here," he said quietly.

He should have been prepared for her shock. Kennit's mother staggered where she stood, then gripped the edge of the table. Saylah uttered an exclamation and stepped forward to steady the old woman.

"We need your help. Paragon wants you to come with us, to see Kennit."

"You can't take her off the island! Not alone!" Saylah cried angrily.

"She can bring whoever she wants to bring," Brashen said recklessly. "We mean no harm to her. I keep telling you that. I am here to take her to Kennit."

Kennit's mother lifted her face and stared at Brashen. Her mild blue eyes pierced him with their acuity. She knew that no one who mentioned Paragon came from Kennit. She knew that whether or not he intended harm to her, he would be taking her into danger. Her eyes were the ancient eyes of a martyr, but they met his steadily in a long look. She nodded.

"She says she will go with you," Saylah needlessly informed him.

Kennit's mother made another sign to the woman. The tattooed woman looked stunned. "Him? You can't take him with you."

Kennit's mother drew herself up straight and stamped her foot for emphasis. She made the odd sign again, a turning motion of her hand. Saylah looked hard at Brashen. "Are you sure she is to bring whoever she wants? That was part of the message?"

Brashen nodded, wondering what he was getting into. It was too dangerous to contradict himself now. He met the older woman's eyes. "Paragon said to trust you," he told her.

Kennit's mother closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them, they swam with tears. She shook her head fiercely, then turned away from him to Saylah. She gabbled away at her, punctuating her noises with hand signs. The other woman frowned as she translated. "There are a few things she has to gather. She says you should go back to the cove, and we will come there."