Bor Legat laughed softly. "She wants your help, Corvett. I hope that she'll get it."
Jarl turned on him, voice raw and scalding. "Quit talking in riddles! What is it you're after?"
"You're not that stupid, Corvett." The Mercurian swung the proton grenade a fraction faster. "We want the girl, of course; Gundre's daughter, Ylana."
"Why?"
"To drive a bargain." The faintest hint of urgency crept into Legat's tone. "We know why you stole her. You're out to save Wassreck."
"And you—?" Jarl put scorn into his voice.
"Death comes to all raiders. Why should a traitor's tale be different?" The Mercurian lowered the grenade and leaned forward. "You can have it straight, Corvett: rey Gundre's made us an offer. If we give him you and Ylana, he'll spare Ceresta."
"And you believe him—?" Jarl laughed harshly. "No wonder you came here! You're mad as a ban, Legat! How long do you think he'd hold to his promise?"
"Long enough," the Mercurian clipped curtly. He sat back once more. Again, idly, he swung the grenade like a deadly oval pendulum.