Another man approached from behind Targon, bare-chested, bald. “What’s Ramla saying about a past life?”
“She’s faking,” Targon said. “They all do.”
The man nodded, then cast a critical eye over Targon’s facial handiwork on me. “That’s a large man’s gag,” he said. “Maybe you should - ”
“Don’t question my methods, Kovus,” Targon snapped. “Ramla needs to know I won’t stand for it." He paused. “What about the others?”
“All prepared.”
“Get this one ready. Hurry. I want us behind the winner’s barge this time.”
I’m carried over a thick plank and onto a barge. The other captured women, plus one or two captured men, are already there, tied to upright poles. But, unlike myself, none of them are gagged. None of them struggle either. They are all clearly unhappy, one woman is softly crying, but
