A bolt whirred past Paksenarrion’s ear. She ducked and saw the guard drop his crossbow as an under-fed slave girl tried to claw his eyes out. Paksenarrion dispatched him with a sword thrust to the throat.
The girl skittered between Paksenarrion and a heavily pregnant woman cowering by the wagon. Her sharp features reminded Paksenarrion of Saben.
“Peace, sister,” Paksenarrion said. “I’m no threat to you. In fact…” She hesitated and felt something like the nose of a great stallion at her back, nudging her forwards. “How would you like to learn to fight?”
The girl stood tall and smiled.