her face.
"Would any enemy e'er say different?" she asked, simply. "Don't know o' many who'd be calling themselfs a foe when they're caught."
Morik chuckled. "You do not approve of Bellany bringing me here."
"Have I ever gived ye a different feeling?"
"Nor do you approve of Bellany's interest in my companionship," Morik dared to say.
When Sheila winced slightly and shifted in her seat, Morik knew he'd hit a nerve. Bolstered by the thought that Sheila's gruffness toward him might be nothing more than jealousy - and to confident Morik's way of thinking, why should it not be? - the rogue lifted his goblet out toward the pirate leader in toast.
"To a better understanding of each other's worth," he said, tapping Sheila's cup.
"And a better understanding of each other's desires," the pirate replied, her smirk even wider.
Morik grinned as well, considering how he might turn this one's fire into some wild pleasures.
He didn't get what he bargained for.
Morik staggered out of Sheila's room a short while later, his head throbbing from the left hook the pirate had leveled his way while still wearing that smirk of hers. Confused by Sheila's violent reaction to his advance - Morik had sidled up to her and gently brushed the back of his hand across her ruddy cheek - the rogue muttered a dozen different curses and stumbled across the way toward Bellany's room. Morik wasn't used to such treatment from the ladies, and his indignation was clear to the sorceress as she opened the door and stood there, blocking the way.
"Making love with a trapped badger?" the grinning Bellany asked.
"That would have been preferable," Morik replied and tried to enter the room. Bellany, though, kept her arm up before him, blocking the way.
Morik looked at her quizzically. "Surely you are not jealous."
"You seem to have a fair estimation of your worth to so definitely know that truth," she replied.
Morik started to respond, but then the insult registered, and he stopped and gave a little salute to the woman.
"Jealous?" Bellany asked skeptically. "Hardly that. I would have thought you'd have bedded Jule Pepper by now, at least. You do surprise me with your taste, though. I didn't think you were Sheila Kree's type, nor she yours."
"Apparently your suspicions are correct," the rogue remarked, rubbing his bruised temple. He started ahead again, and this time Bellany let him move past her and into the room. "I suspect you would have had more luck in wooing that one."
"Took you long enough to figure that one out," Bellany replied, closing the door as she entered behind the rogue.
Morik fell upon a bed of soft furs and rolled to cast a glance at the grinning sorceress. "A simple word of warning?" he asked. "You could not have done that for me beforehand?"
"And miss the fun?"
"You did not miss much," said Morik, and he held his arms out toward her.
"Do you need your wound massaged?" Bellany asked, not moving. "Or your pride?"
Morik considered the question for just a moment. "Both," he admitted, and, her smile widening even more, the sorceress approached.
"This is the last time I will warn you," she said, slipping onto the bed beside him. "Tangle with Sheila Kree, and she will kill you. If you are lucky, I mean. If not, shell likely tell Chogurugga that you have amorous designs over her."
"The ogress?" asked a horrified Morik.
"And if your coupling with that one does not kill you, then Bloog surely will."
Bellany edged in closer, trying to kiss the man, but Morik turned away, any thoughts of passion suddenly flown.
"Chogurugga," he said, and a shudder coursed his spine.
Chapter 22 ONE STEP AT A TIME
With the freezing wind roaring in at him from the right, Wulfgar plodded along, ducking his shoulder and head against the constant icy press. He was on a high pass, and though he didn't like being out in the open, this windblown stretch was the route with by far the least remaining snow. He knew that enemies might spot him from a mile away, a dark spot against the whiteness, but knew he also that unless they were aerial creatures - and ones large enough to buck the wintry blow - they'd never get near to him.
What he was hoping for was that his former companions might spot him. For how else might he find them in this vast, up-and-down landscape, where vision was ever limited by the next mountain peak and where distances were badly distorted? Sometimes the next mountain slope, where individual trees could be