Free Stormrider by P. A. Bechko

of service instead of revenge, because if anyone had the right to revenge, it was Tanith Aesir. To his knowledge, and according to knowledge contained in the records the Circle of Nine and the Council of The Servitors kept, she had never used her information sources and training as a Janissary to strike back at the slavers who had destroyed her innocence at so young an age. It was something he was sure he could not have kept himself from doing.
    Noble, Raptor decided, but in the greater scheme of things, probably not wise.

 
    Chapter 6
     
    Slavers . The single word passed from Strongheart to Tanith, both warning and curse.
    She drew up short, gazing out into the small clearing where Littlefoot and one Eye trotted across the deserted campsite.
    Strongheart shot Tanith a sideways glance and lifted his black nose to sample the air. They are not long gone from here. Use caution .
    Tanith nodded, moccasined feet making no sound as she slipped forward into the clearing to examine the faint traces left behind by the hated slavers. If the camp was so recently deserted as Strongheart believed, it would indeed pay to be cautious. She stiffened just a little, memories long buried threatening to resurface, but other thoughts took precedence, banishing cruel memories again to the darker recesses of her mind.
    She had left her sheltering cave more than three days past, in the early hours of the night when she had been certain the bounty hunter had slept. She didn’t fear him, but he sought what she sought and she would be a twice-blessed fool to trust him. She did not know or care if he followed, for if he did he was far behind. The wolves had assured her of that. Strongheart, Littlefoot and One Eye had taken turns scouting their back trail and had seen nothing.
    The idea of slipping free of her old camp at night by the light of only the blue moon, the paler golden moon still below the horizon, had made her very uncomfortable. Still she had not wanted to discuss, or even think where Raptor Simic was concerned. It had simply been easier this way. Tanith couldn’t help but grin at the thought of Raptor’s chagrin when he had discovered her gone. She knew well he would have sworn it was not possible for her to slip away, fully outfitted, without his waking.
    She watched the wolves who were wary, but moving swiftly, noses first to the ground, then elevated, seeking clues to those who had gone before. Tanith edged out into the clearing, soft grasses bending soundlessly beneath her tread. She looked carefully for other signs which might not be familiar to the wolves; depressions in the earth, discarded high-tech trash. She found nothing to indicate anyone had been here besides the slavers and perhaps a few of their victims.
    Tanith’s stomach muscles tightened and she swore softly, bending to examine more closely the bent grasses where a number of beds had been laid upon the ground. None of those would have been the slavers. They never deigned to sleep on the cold ground except in times of extreme emergency. When they had to go some distance from their ships they almost invariably had with them their much warmer hammocks and back on their ships, luxury abounded. For them. Not for their victims. Not for those poor souls who had been captured, destined to be used and then sold. Shipped to some place so distant they could never hope to see Nashira again. Too well Tanith remembered the pain of separation and alienation. She felt again that familiar pain in her gut and saw again that dark face hovering over her . . . dark in countenance and soul . . . The Maven, leader of one of the largest packs of known slavers.
    Irritated, Tanith brushed the intruding memories from her mind with almost a physical effort, turning to Strongheart as he approached, sleek and loose-limbed.
    They are gone.
    Tanith nodded. “Thank the Great Cosmic Mother they are—and that it was only the slavers who occupied this clearing. I have found nothing to indicate the