"The one-armed one, or the other?"
Margaret's face showed scorn. "Would I be interested in cripples?"
"Oh, the slender one. He too will be taken before Highness Sin."
"And Eldon?"
Wor looked annoyed. "Gone. Came through on the seaward side of the Mountains."
"But why didn't you get him, too?"
Wor was distinctly irked. "We looked. Either he came through below ground level, in which case he is dead, or the Rebels found him, in which case he is dead, too. Write him off."
Margaret let a couple of tears roll down her cheeks, but not from grief over Eldon. She knew that in this strange situation into which she had been flung she would need a friend and protector.
"What is going to happen to poor helpless me? Oh, won't you help me?" she asked plaintively. Her eyes expressed open admiration for the corded muscles rippling beneath Wor's military tunic.
It was an ancient appeal and Margaret realized it had been most obviously applied. But it worked. Men were so easily handled, even this Wor. Carefully she hid her satisfaction as he sat down beside her.