Jarl smiled at her thinly. "Ally, friend, comrade, brother. That's why I've come here. I needed a hostage."
"A hostage—?"
"For Wassreck. He's a prisoner. You'll buy his freedom."
The grey eyes distended. The girl breathed fast and shallow, ripe lips half-parted. "You madman—!" she whispered.
Jarl Corvett laughed harshly, and there was ice and fire in it. "Some say so. But Wassreck saved me at Horla. Tonight I've come here to pay back what I owe him."
"Jarl!" Ungo broke in, raw-voiced and urgent. "Quick! Hurry! They will find that dead guard any minute!"
"Yes." Jarl raised up. He spoke again to the girl—bleak, cold, rock-steady: "You're coming, Ylana. As to how—you do the choosing. But even if we have to tie you and gag you and carry you, you're coming!"
The girl's grey eyes probed his. Color came to her lips; they no longer trembled. "You mean—you really believe you can storm in here and take me? That your handful of raiders can fight through the cordon—?"
"Freemen have done more."
"Freemen—?" Ylana's laugh was tight, bitter. "What do you and your outlaws know about freedom? To you, it means nothing but freedom to murder, to plunder!"