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be slowly
clearing. The best she could figure was that she was back in the
market area.
    “You found him where?”
    “Over there, Sir. On top of the blue
building.”
    “ There? ”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Impossible.” A third voice chimed in. It was
not as deep and resonant as the first one, nor as nervous sounding
as the second. “That’s got to be a good hundred yards. No one can
aim with that kind of accuracy from that far. Not in the middle of
the night.”
    A figure moved away from her and stopped in
front of a blood splatter on a wall. Atty realized she was lying in
front of the leather shop. The figure stared at the splatter, then
turned and looked back at the tool shop. “He’s a Mutah,” the figure
finally acknowledged. “There’s no telling what he’s capable of
doing.”
    A boot suddenly stomped on her back, crushing
her chest and face further into the hard packed earth. Atty grunted
in pain. It brought an immediate reaction. The Cleaner leaned down
and hissed in her ear, “You think that’s painful, just you wait,
Mutah. You’re going to answer for everyone you offed tonight, and
then some!”
    “Release him,” the sonorous voice
ordered.
    “Sir!”
    “I want a word with him before we flay him.
Now get off of him.”
    The pressure on her chest relaxed. At the
same time Atty was hauled to her feet and turned to face her
captors. The torches cast an almost surreal glow over the compound
as the fog began to lay thick across the open area. The smell of
roasted badger caused her stomach to tighten painfully, reminding
her she hadn’t eaten in almost two days. She blinked and tried to
focus but it was difficult.
    “Are you our shooter?” asked a completely
different voice. It came from one side. She tried to face him but
she was jerked back into position. In return, the unrelenting
pounding in her skull increased its pressure. She gritted her teeth
against it.
    “Answer me. Are you our shooter?”
    She had to spit dirt and saliva mixed into
mud out of her mouth before she could manage to reply hoarsely.
“It’s my bow, yes.”
    “Did you act alone?”
    “I had to. No one else would.”
    “What do you mean, no one else would?” It was
the third voice from earlier.
    She paused, then realized the truth had to be
told or else others may die. “The other hunters are gone. We need
meat, so they set out a couple of days ago on an expedition.”
    “You mean there’s no one left to guard the
compound?”
    “There are others, but they won’t put up any
resistance. At least, if they haven’t by done so by now...” She
coughed to try and clear her throat.
    “Why not, Mutah?”
    “They’re terrified of you. They went into
hiding.”
    “But not you,” the deep voice chimed in.
    “I...couldn’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “My oath as a hunter says I have to protect
the compound, not just provide it with meat.”
    The Cleaner with the deep voice nodded. She
could see the shadow move its head. By now she could faintly make
out the features of those before her, but the one with the rich
voice wore a helmet that shielded almost his entire face.
    The one with the third voice laughed
derisively. “Your oath ? Since
when do Mutah take oaths?”
    Atty turned to face him. “Since there’ve been
Cleaners to swear at,” she shot back.
    A gloved hand suddenly swung out and clipped
her neatly in the jaw. She heard her teeth click together, felt
something crack, and she fell back. The man who’d been holding her
arms let go, allowing her to grab her mouth in pain.
    “Karv!”
    “He spoke rudely!”
    “He answered your question,” the deep voice
barked in anger. The Cleaner waved two fingers in Atty’s direction.
In response she was lifted to her feet and brought closer.
    “What kind of Mutah are you?”
    She carefully shook her head. The pain was
too great to verbalize any more answers.
    A gloved hand came toward her. Atty flinched
and tried to avoid the blow. Instead, the hand grabbed her by