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as you get to the lodge , she promised herself. But the thought of fruit, particularly the sweet, thin-skinned afals planted behind Yerakh’s lodge, broke her resistance. Almost skipping, she cut through the field to the afal trees.
    Choosing a honey-sweet golden-fleshed variety her father had always loved, she tossed her veil back against her shoulders, plucked one of the fat, soft-skinned fruits, and ate it quickly. Discarding the large, ruddy brown pit, she wiped the juice off her fingers, then picked more. She filled her woven-grass bag with the fruit, covered her head with her veil again, and started back to the lodge.
    To her horror, Annah saw Yerakh and the formidable Naham at the entrance. Had they feasted all night without sleeping? They sensed her presence and turned immediately, staring at her.
    I’ll go to the back entry , Annah thought, ducking her head to appear as meek as possible. Her heart thumped uncomfortably. Edging away, she cast a wary, sidelong glance toward them through her veil.
    Naham gave her a jeering, nasty look and approachedher, swaggering arrogantly. If she ran from him, Annah knew both men would take offense. She stood still, her head bowed.
    “Little veiled one,” Naham crooned, maliciously sociable. “Out so early? Have you been visiting your lover?”
    As he laughed at his own wit, Annah began to sweat beneath her veil. His tone, his nearness, and his questions were unnerving her. Yerakh ambled up, his footsteps reluctant, like a man who wanted nothing more than sleep.
    Sneering, Naham spoke to Yerakh. “Could she possibly have lovers, as the other women of your lodge do?”
    “She’s like a piece of wood,” Yerakh muttered, obviously choosing to ignore Naham’s gibe. “How can she have lovers?”
    Naham grunted. “True. You know, this veil she wears outdoors has always disturbed me. Will she go mad if I remove it?”
    “See for yourself,” Yerakh answered.
    Hearing his careless reply, Annah trembled inwardly. He would not speak for her or defend her in any way. Naham pulled at her veil, laughing softly. Annah kept her eyes lowered. Trying to control her fear, she concentrated on slowing her breathing. Naham dropped the veil; Annah felt it swish past her legs to the ground.
    “She hasn’t gone mad yet,” Naham said. He was staring hard at her, Annah could tell. All her senses were screaming in alarm.
    I’m going to run , she told herself. I don’t care if Yerakh beats me later . But even as she thought this, she felt the pull of Naham’s huge hand gliding down her hair, then edging in until his powerful fingers stroked the back of her neck.
    “You know, Yerakh,” Naham said, thoughtful now, “I’ve always wondered how you endure the women ofyour household. Troublemakers, all of them. But this one’s different. Give her to me.”
    Yerakh snorted in disbelief. “To marry? She has no marriage portion. And you wouldn’t want her after the first night anyway. I doubt your wives would want her around either.”
    Naham had taken three wives during his two kentums of life. His first wife was dead by his own hands. His two remaining wives were barren, embittered women.
    “Oh, I’m not asking you to give her a marriage portion,” Naham replied, still stroking Annah’s hair, making her shudder in uncontrolled loathing. “It’s well known how wretched your women are, Yerakh; you’ve kept them all without marriage portions or property of their own. I’m just asking you, as your friend—your only true friend—to give me this creature for a night. Just one night.”
    Annah stomach churned. She would vomit if she couldn’t escape soon. Naham’s touch repulsed her; his huge, brutish fingers, now clasping the back of her neck and her head, terrified her. She was barely half Naham’s height. He could kill her with a swat of his hand. She would die if he took her for one night—or for any time at all.
    Please, Yerakh , she thought desperately, tell him no!
    When he