were to lead me to the Sarrazan forest, not straight into a war party of ores. And you were supposed to be on watch. What happened?" Cheyne muttered under his breath as he worked at the ropes.
"I was upset. All that talk about Riolia. Every time I think of her, it seems to happen all over again. Besides, if we aren't dead right now, he's probably not feeling threatened enough to kill us. The leader is Yob, a Wyrvil underking. He has a camp not far from here. The two with the heads hanging from their belts are Rotapan's boys. See the notches in their ears? The ores' ears, not the humans'. Rotapan bites them out himself when they enter his service. Yob is wearing his full battle gear; he's too dressed up for a routine hunting party. They're probably all going to the temple… quarterly payments or something. This could work very well for us, if I can remember a song or two. They can take us exactly where we need to go."
"You mean exactly where you need to go," groused Cheyne, his large fingers fumbling with the same knot for the fourth time. Og finally turned his face as directly toward Cheyne's as he could.