Chapter 16
Jacol stood nearby, always watching, always listening. His boy-sized whip lay limp in his hand.
The two girls drew water from the well. The sky was pink with dusk, and women all over the city rushed and shoved to fill their buckets before sundown.
Bradamante watched Elias argue with a man in the street.
“How does your father make his living?” she asked Jara.
Jara glanced around nervously. The women’s bickering provided good cover for their conversation. Jara leaned in closer to Bradamante. “He collects for Lord Ganelon.”
“Who?”
Jara’s voice was barely audible. “Lord Ganelon.”
“What does your father collect for him?”
A matron elbowed Bradamante in the ribs, sloshing the water from her bucket.
“Hey!”
“Hurry up there,” the woman scolded.
Bradamante topped off both her b
