cheek. She tasted blood on her tongue, where she'd cut herself on her own teeth.
Kord leaned down and seized her hair, jerking her face up to his. "Don't speak to me like you're some kind of person. You aren't any more. You're just meat now." He gave her head a vicious little shake. "You understand that?"
"I understand," Isana grated, "that you're a little man, Kord." She dragged in a breath, enough to make the words cut. "You can't look past yourself. Not even when something is coming to crush you. You're small. No matter what you do to me, you'll still be small. A coward who hurts slaves because he's afraid to challenge anyone stronger." She met his eyes and whispered, "You've got me because you found me helpless. You'd never be able to do anything to me if you hadn't. Because you're nothing."
Kord's eyes flashed. He snarled, a mindlessly animal sound, and hit her again, harder. Stars flew across her vision, and the dusty floor rose up to meet her.
She wasn't sure how long she lay there, pain and thirst blinding her, making her unaware of anything else. But when she came to her senses again and sat up, only Kord and his son, Aric, remained. Odiana lay in a heap on the
floor, not far away, curled onto her side, her legs drawn up, her hair hiding her face.
Kord tossed a flask down beside Isana. It made a soft, slight gurgling sound, as though it held only a tiny bit of water. "Go ahead," he told her. "Nothing in that one. I want you to see what happens."
Isana took up the flask, throat burning. She didn't believe that Kord had told her the truth, but she felt faint, weak, and her throat felt as though it had been coated with salt. She pulled the cap from it and drank, almost before she realized what she was doing. Water, warm, but untainted, flowed into her mouth. Half a cup, perhaps-certainly no more. It was gone before it had done much to help her thirst, but at least it had eased the maddening ache of it. She lowered the flask, looking up at Kord.
"Aric," Kord said. "Bring me the box."
Aric turned toward the door, but hesitated. "Pa. Maybe she's right. I mean, with what Tavi said at the river and all-"
"Boy," Kord snarled, cutting him off. "You bring me that box. And keep your mouth shut. You hear?"
Aric went pale and swallowed. "Yes, Pa." He turned and vanished from the smokehouse.
Kord turned back to her. "The thing about all of this, Isana, is that you're too naive to be as afraid as you should be. I want to help you with that. I want you to know what's going to happen."
"This is useless, Kord," Isana said. "You might as well kill me."
"When I'm ready." Kord walked over to Odiana, then reached down and seized her casually by the hair. The woman whimpered and twisted her shoulders, struggling feebly to get away from him. Kord gathered her hair up, lock by lock, until he held the length of it in his fist. "See, this one here. She's a hard case. Knows what she's doing. Knows the game. How to survive it." He shook her hair, eliciting a whimper. "All the right sounds to make. Right, girl?"
With Odiana's face bowed, facing away from Kord, Isana could see her expression now. The water witch's eyes were hard, her expression cold, distant. But she kept her voice weak, shaking. "P-please," Odiana whispered. "Master. Don't hurt me. Please. I'll do anything you want."
"That's right," Kord rumbled, smiling down at the woman. "You will."
Aric opened the door and entered, carrying a long, flat box of smooth, polished wood.
"Open it," Kord told him. "Let her see."
Aric swallowed. Then he paced around, in front of where Kord held Odiana by the hair, and opened the box.
Isana saw the contents: a strip of metal, a band perhaps an inch wide, lay on the cloth within the box, dully throwing back the light of the fires.
Odiana's expression changed. The hardness vanished from her eyes, and her mouth dropped open in an expression of something close to horror. She recoiled from the box, but was brought up short by Kord's grip on her. Isana heard her let out a whimper of pain and, unmistakably, of fear. "No," she said, at once, her voice suddenly harsher, high, panicky. "No, I don't need that. You won't need it. No, don't, I promise, you won't