Samod sighed and sheathed his sword, surveying the nine corpses in front of them.

"That's how many now this month?" He asked.

Agran removed his helm ran a gauntleted fist through sweat-matted hair.

"Thirty-eight I think." He answered. He turned one body over with his boot. "They must be desperate."

"Or they're planning something." Samod said.

Agran frowned. "Like what? They can't hope to accomplish anything ten at a time. No. I think we put them in a corner when we closed the borders."

"So they're what? Just trying to stay alive?" Samod said. He spat onto the face of one dead man. "Barbarians."

Agran didn't answer. Samod would see the world the way he saw it.

He bent beside the body of a white-haired old man and tugged the jar out of his hand. He sniffed it.

"I'd like to know where they're getting these though." He said, lifting the jar.

Samod grunted.

"Witches." He said. "Only ones who know how."

Agran put the jar down gently. He had enough burns as it was.

"I thought we cleared most of those last spring." He said.

"Most." Samod agreed. "Not all."

His look spoke volumes, but he said nothing else. Agran frowned. His charge troubled him. Twice he had caught sight of her slipping out the side door at night, returning with dirt on her dress. At first he had thought it was a boy, but he dismissed the idea shortly after he had it. He had observed some of the neighbouring boys try to gain her favour. Her response had always been the same. Avid disinterest. Lelan, a handsome lad favoured by the other girls their age, had gone so far as to bring her pastries from his father's bakery every day for a month. Sabina had refused his offerings and ignored him, but it wasn't until Samod threatened to break both his wrists that the young man had subsided. Word spread, and there had been no further attempts at courtship. Sabina never noticed. A few weeks later, when Agran discovered a half buried bat by the well, its insides removed, he wished it could have been as simple as a boy. After that, he noticed other things. Small things, but they worried him. A bundle of herbs drying in the linen closet, a beetle bereft a wing,  pinned to the window sill with a sewing needle. There had been blood on her sheets once, but when he had asked, Nana had told him to mind his own business. Woman's trouble, she had said.

Agran rose and pointed to the ridge.

"Do you think we should take one more pass?" He asked.

Samod shook his head.

"Nah. We've already done one, and if there are any more out there, I doubt they'll come out after this." He said, waving a hand over the corpse-filled field in front of them.

"Besides." He continued, "I could think of at least four different things I would rather do than freeze my balls off trying to teach savages a lesson."

"Just four?" Agran said with a smile. "You're getting old, Samod."

Samod snorted.

"I am." He said. "I feel like I could sleep for a week."

Agran laughed and replaced his helm. "You and me both, my friend."

He mounted his horse, and together the two men wound their way back across the blood spattered trail towards home.

***                                                          

Sabina lay still until Samod finished. It didn't take him long. It never did. When he was done, she wriggled out from under him, and straightened her skirts as she stood. Samod rose to his knees and laced up his britches. He didn't look at her. He never did afterwards. Before, it was all hot eyes and hungry looks, but after, it was only shame. For him.

Not for her. Sabina felt nothing before or after. She had tried once, with the baker's boy, to see if it was different, but it had only gained her a month of trouble. More. Samod had been furious. With the boy, with her.

She cast a contemptuous glance in Samod’s direction. He had scared her, that first night, when he had followed her back to her room, but now, tonight, he seemed smaller to her. She no longer feared him, but she didn't fight him either. She let him take what he came for when he came. He had served a purpose she didn't know he had. She refrained from running fingers over her still-taut belly.

Retrieving her basket, Sabina picked up the carrots that had fallen to the ground in Samod’s haste to get her skirts up. Without looking back, she headed into the house through the small side door. Nana took the basket of carrots and handed her the wooden stirring spoon.

"Keep stirring every five minutes." Nana said before leaving the room. She didn't look her in the eye either. Sabina knew she knew. Had from the start, Sabina assumed. Sabina thought she should be angry at her for letting it happen, but she wasn't. She was empty. Her hand trailed to her belly. Almost empty.

***                                                              

Agran grabbed another chunk of crusty bread and dipped it into his stew.

"This is wonderful, Nana." He said. "Maybe one of your best."

Nana grunted.

"Was the girl for most of it." She said.

"Well done then." Agran said, looking at Sabina.

She smiled at him with unchanging eyes.

"I'm glad you like it." Was all she said.

"You're becoming quite the hand in the kitchen." Agran said. "Won't be long and you'll be running off into someone else's service."

Sabina smiled again, a little wanly, her face pale in the candlelight. She had hardly touched her own bowl, except to spin her spoon around it in slow circles. Her face twisted for a moment before she suddenly pushed back her chair and bolted from the room.

Agran rose to follow her, but Nana waved him down.

"I'll see to her." She said and left the hall.

Agran waited.

***                                                                  
Wiping her mouth with the bottom of her skirts, Sabina sat back on her heels and breathed in the night air. Behind her the door opened.

"You'll have to marry him." Nana said.

Sabina closed her eyes.

"I don't want to." She said.

Nana snorted. "This isn't about want, girl. When Agran finds out, he will make Samod do right by you. He will be angry, but he will see it as his duty to stand for you."

Sabina let the breeze play over her cheeks.

"Angry with me? Or with Samod?" She asked.

"With both, I imagine." Nana replied. "If you hadn’t lured him, he never would have done what he did. Men are weak creatures, girl. They can’t help themselves. Now, stop crouching in the dirt and come inside.

Sabina stood and followed Nana into the kitchen.

Nana grasped her face in one thick hand. She clicked her tongue in exasperation.

"You're a mess child." She said. "Let's clean you up some before you tell them."

She twisted Sabina's face to stare into her eyes.

"You could do worse than Samod." She said. "He's not a gentle man, but you could do worse."

"Better or worse, it doesn't matter. I don't want him." Sabina replied. "I want to raise it on my own. Like my mother."

Nana snorted again. "Agran will never allow it. He'll have you married if he has to tie you to the altar. I know that man. He'll marry you himself if he can't get Samod to agree."

Nana sighed. "Heaven help me if it comes to that. You being Mistress of the house. I tell you now, child, if that gives you airs, I'll disabuse  you of them right fast. See if I don't."

She wagged a finger in Sabina's face.

"Now." Nana said, turning around. "Where did I put that towel? We need to get that face washed up. No need to go in there looking a fright. Always look your best when you're about to go do something unpleasant, that's what I say."

She moved several baskets aside.

"Ah. There it is!" She said.

Then, with a grunt, she stumbled to her knees. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Blood dripped down the front of her dress and she sagged to the ground. Sabina let go of the kitchen knife, and with a clatter, it fell to the floor. She hadn't meant that, but now done, she would have to finish. Picking up a small paring knife, she slipped it under the belt of her dress, then she reached her hand into the top corner of the pantry and removed one of the vials she had secreted there. A special recipe. One of her aunt's. Sabina hoped she had done it half as well. It would have to do, she thought, dumping the contents into the jug of wine.

***                                                              

When Sabina re-entered the dining hall, Agran was relieved to see a flush of colour on her cheeks.

"Where's Nana?" He asked.

"Washing up." Sabina replied. "She asked me to take in the wine."

She poured a glass for Agran and one for Samod. Without looking at her, Samod grabbed his glass and drank it down. He slammed it back on the table for her to refill.

Agran swilled his own cup, but he felt too tired to drink. Maybe a hot cup of tea would do him better. Sputtering across the table made him look up. Samod, halfway through his second glass, was choking on his wine.

"I've told you not to drink so fast." Agran said.

The cup fell from Samod's fingers as he continued to choke.

Agran rose and hurried around the table.

"Easy, friend." He said, slapping Samod on the back.

A foul, brown froth seeped from the corner of his lips as the sputtering became a rattling sound. He reached up and gripped Agran's wrists, pulling him towards himself.

"Like...her...mother." He wheezed. "Shouldn't...have..."

The words faltered as his breathing grew more laboured, then stopped. His mouth continued to foam even as his eyes glazed over. Agran sat, still holding his hand. When he raised his eyes, Sabina was there, her gaze calm. There was no smile this time.

"What did you do?" He demanded.

He knew. Damn it, he knew, but he had to hear her say it.

"I poisoned him." She said.

His eyes moved to his untouched glass.

"And me?" he asked.

She frowned. "You didn't drink."

"If I had?"

"Then yes." She replied.

He closed his eyes and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"Nana?"

"Dead." Came the reply.

Agran nodded. He knew that already. A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye. Something brushed it away. Agran opened his eyes and stared at the girl kneeling on the floor before him.

"Why?" He asked.

She shook her head, almost sadly.

"They would have gotten in the way." She replied.

Agran frowned. "In the way of what?"

Her fingers trailed to her belly.

"He planted his seed." She said.

He stared at her for a moment, and then he understood. He glanced down at Samod's blank stare and released his grip on his friends hand. Had he known that too? No, not that. Surely not that. He looked back to Sabina

"I'm sorry." He said. He didn't know what else to say. The girl had killed his two closest friends, but maybe what they had done was worse.

"Don't be." She said. "I was born this way too, you know. My mother, she plucked his eyes out. My father's, I mean. She kept them in a jar on the mantle so he was always watching."

She looked at Samod and pursed her lips. "I don't think I'll do that, though. I never liked his eyes."

Agran licked his lips.

"Where will you go?" He asked.

Sabina shrugged. "Home, I suppose. It's as good a place as any."

"I'm sorry." Agran said again, "I tried to make this home--"

His voice trailed off as he looked at her hopelessly. What a fool he was.

"I know." She said. She reached her hand towards him again and stroked a lock of his hair with her fingers. Her touch was oddly gentle. She smiled then, a real smile and pushed the blade between his ribs.

"You should never trust the wicked."