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golds, and five thousand arrows, delivered to us at the southern falls of the River one month from today," the man spoke in a voice of great self-importance, as if he were an oracle pronouncing a holy proclamation.
    "That's all? You’re just kidnappers collecting ransom?" Grange asked with a hint of a sneer.
    "Don't be impudent, boy!" one of the men snarled.
    "If they do not meet our demands," the man in the center pronounced icily, "their beloved princess will become the bride of Victor, the rightful heir to the crown, and she will be the mother to a new dynasty of Bloomingians."  All three of them seemed to scrutinize him closely, looking for a reaction.
    Grange stood silently, weighing the distasteful options placed before him.
    "What if I refuse to carry your message?" he asked.
    "Then we'll dispense with the month's wait and let Victor start breeding the brat tonight," one of the trio snapped.
    "I'll carry you message, if I'm allowed to talk to the princess first," Grange replied.  He wasn't sure what he expected to accomplish, other than to see Jenniline and let her know he was going to carry the message.   He doubted that she would feel any gratitude, but he would see her anyway, and carry the message that would perhaps purchase her freedom.
    The trio spoke among themselves again, squabbling until they resolved their dispute.
    "Very well," the center speaker said.  He spoke loudly in the Southgar tongue, and a pair of the other men in the tent stood up, then came and stood next to Grange.
    "Escort him to visit the captive, then bring him back here," the man in the chair instructed the pair.
    One of the men grabbed Grange's arm, and led him from the tent.
    Both the men were armed, Grange saw.  He wouldn't be able to easily overpower them, and with his bad leg, he wouldn't be able to outrun anyone to escape, he conceded to himself.
    They walked for five minutes, letting Grange see that the camp was an extensive settlement, and not just a military one. There were women and children in residential areas, and a marketplace as well.  The camp housed a whole society, he saw, a swathe of the population of Southgar that had been displaced into exile.
    A tent stood almost alone, next to one other structure, isolated from the rest of the settlement.  Two guards stood outside of each tent as Grange's escort directed him towards the smaller of the two.
    As they approached the entry, it flung open, and an elderly, stooped man with a paunch came out.
    Grange's escort bowed, and forced Grange to bow as well, his movement awkward as he favored his slashed leg.
    "What are you bringing us?" the old man asked pleasantly.  "He looks familiar, vaguely,” the man said as he peered myopically.
    "Another captive, your highness," the escort explained.
    "Someone came to rescue my future bride, did they, and failed?" the old man saw humor in the story he spun.  "By all means, let him see her loveliness before he is executed," the man said dismissively.  "Carry on," he directed as he walked away to the other tent next door.
    The two escorts spoke intently to one another in their own language, disagreeing about something, until Grange grew impatient.  He wrenched his arm free. 
    "I'll go in while the two of you squabble," he said.  He left his escorts and went between the pair of guards at the tent entrance to pull the flap open and step inside.
    "I'm sure you didn't expect to see me," he told Jenniline as he entered the main chamber of the tent.
    The girl sitting on an upholstered chair looked up at him calmly, though there were tear tracks on her face.
    She took time to translate his words, then answered in the same language.  "I'm not sure what to expect any more," she replied.  "Who are you?"
    Grange stared in confusion.
    The girl was not Jenniline.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    "My name is Grange," he answered, at a loss as to what to do.  He stepped closer to the girl. "Where is Jenniline?" he asked.
    "Stop