Straw Hut was as silent as still water. The streets were clear of people, livestock, chickens, dogs. Even wild birds and insects seemed to have abandoned the place.
“Quamdamn eerie,” Sergeant Workman whispered. Tennea ignored the profanity.
“Look sharp, men,” she called softly, and eased her own sword out of its scabbard. Behind her the men drew the strings on their crossbows and set quarrels to the grooves. Tennea tapped her horse’s flanks and the mount stepped forward gingerly. The troopers followed Tennea to the center of the town and reined in outside the headman’s house.
“Dismount and circle up,” Tennea ordered quietly. The men swung out of their saddles and stood by their horses, easing the mounts into a circle with themselves on the inside of a barricade of horseflesh.
“What abo
