Brashen reached a hard decision. “Keep your bows lowered. Follow me, but twenty paces behind me. Unless I order it, no man shoots an arrow. Am I clear?”

“Clear, sir,” one man answered, and the rest muttered doubtful responses. His last effort at peaceful negotiating was still fresh in their minds.

Brashen lifted his arms wide of his sheathed sword and called out to the people by the cottage. “I’m coming down. I mean no harm. I just want to talk to you.” He began to walk forward.

“Stop where you are!” the woman shouted back. “Talk to us from there!”

Brashen took a few more steps to see what they would do. The man came to meet him, axe ready. He was a large man, his wide cheeks tattooed all the way to his ears. Brashen recognized his type from brawls: he would not fight especially well, but he’d be hard to kill. With a sinking certainty, he knew he had no heart for this. He wasn’t going to kill anyone while their untended baby wailed inside the cottage. Althea herself would not ask that of him. There had to be another way.

“The Ludluck woman!” he shouted. He wished Paragon had told him the mother’s name. “Lucky’s widow. I want to talk to her. That’s why we’ve come.”

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.