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gibberish. I don’t see any value in her as a worker, but if stories are to be believed, she would make a fine addition to any arena, as I’m sure your friends are familiar with. The novelty alone . . .”

Fritjof led them to a small alcove at the end of the hall. Beside it, Summers saw small stone chips scattered beside the wall. The merchant must have noticed him looking, because he spoke up a moment later.

“She’s proven quite . . . difficult to control, but she is a warrior of the upmost quality.”

Fritjof moved to the cell door, pulling out a key as guards moved from behind Summers, spears ready. As he opened the door, Summers saw a woman in army fatigues slumped up against the far wall, chains covering her from head to toe. Her eyes were a solid black, with long, spider-like limbs growing from her back and almost impossibly thin frame.

“Home . . .”

Summers could hear the woman whispering to herself from where he stood. Her gaze was unfocused, staring down at her own legs as she repeated the word.

“Home . . .”

Summers took a deep breath before he spoke.

“How much?”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“If this thing’s started rewriting her mind, why’d it bother with the extra . . . parts?” Cortez stared at the four legs that jutted from the woman’s back.

They’d found a small home they’d rented for the night. While an inn may have been big enough for their small group, it was far too public for what they had in mind.

“I don’t know.” Summers looked at the woman. She’d been silent the entire trip there. “Maybe it’s a survival thing. Maybe it wants to maximize the odds its ‘host’ lives.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to keep them the same, then?” Cortez replied.

“Or maybe it’s just to make them better killers,” Nowak suggested. “You saw what that thing was like in the city. And you said it needed bodies. Didn’t say they needed to be alive.”

“Right.” Summers sat in the small couch of the living room. “Even so, I don’t think the hamr was supposed to be a weapon.”

“What part of this thing doesn’t sound like a weapon to you?” Cortez asked.

“It can rewrite a person’s brain on the fly. With that kind of technology, do you really think we’d stand a chance against an actual, real weapon?”

“Fair point,” Cortez conceded.

Summers put a hand on his head. They’d sent the twins to guard their slowly shrinking stash of weapons outside. Pat and Orvar stood at the back of the house, watching the woman as she sat in a chair against the far wall.

She hadn’t said a word since they’d brought her there. Or done much of anything, really. They’d kept the chains on her; whether or not she was from their world, they weren’t taking chances. They’d been speaking English the entire time they’d been in the house, and the woman hadn’t reacted at all. She hadn’t even blinked.

“Do you think you can do your thing on her, Summers?” Cortez wondered, gesturing to her head.

Summers considered the woman in front of him.

“I already looked at her . . .” Summers noticed the others staring at him. “Look, I can sort of feel where it is when I put my hand on her head. It’s . . . there’s so much of it. I’d just be tearing out her brain at this point.”

“So, what do we do with her, then?” Cortez moved forward, snapping her fingers in front of the woman’s face. She didn’t react.

Summers noticed Asle staring from the other side of the room. She was frowning.

“Asle, what are you thinking?”

“I think she can hear us,” Asle stated.

Summers glanced at the girl, then back to the soldier. She hadn’t moved in the slightest.

“What makes you say that?”

“She stopped talking when she heard us talk.” Asle pointed a finger at the woman. “She knows we can understand her.”

Summers eyed the woman again. What Asle said might be true, but at the same time, it didn’t change anything.

“So, what now?” Summers looked to the others. “Whether she’s staying quiet on her own or not, it’s not like we can bring her along.”

“Well, we can’t just set her free. And at the same time, we can’t kill her,” Nowak stated.

“Why not?” Asle asked.

The others looked at her in shock.

“I think what Asle is trying to say is that the life of a slave is not a . . . happy one.” Synel put an arm on Asle’s shoulder. “Many would prefer death, if they had a choice.”

“For what it’s worth, I agree with the kid.” Cortez raised her hands. “She’s basically dead already. Torture isn’t an option and probably wouldn’t do jack shit and like you said, she’s too dangerous to bring along. What other options do we got?”

“We’re not killing one of ours.”

“Sarge . . .” Cortez protested.

“End of discussion,” Nowak stated flatly. “We’ll take her back to the slaver in the morning. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s the best we have.”

“I’m sure we can convince him to take back his . . . merchandise,” Synel agreed. “At a steep discount.”

Asle didn’t look happy, but she said nothing. Summers wasn’t sure he agreed, but he kept his silence as well.

“So, this was a total loss, then?” Summers asked.

“She was one of ours,” Nowak corrected. “We had to try. You know that.”

“Yeah . . .” Summers agreed. “Nothing left but to keep going?”

Nowak nodded, still thinking.

“I’ve managed to secure mounts enough for us and your . . . luggage,” Synel explained. “We’ll be able to leave the town in the morning.”

“You two think you can take guard?” Nowak motioned to Pat and Orvar. They nodded in turn.

“And you’re

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