The wagon trembled and shook, rolling across the snow-covered forest path.

Vrelyen, whispering to himself that he was a gruff and honest merchant, worked hard to feed his family in Ryzayah. He sat on a hard wooden seat next to Nalian, one of the dull-faced mercenaries employed by the slavers’ caravan. Nalian, the mercenary, was a scarred-faced man who was fonder of whipping the horses that pulled his cart than he was of feeding them.

It was cold, and warm winds were still a long way off. Vrelyen had been dealing with a runny nose for several days, and his sickness was putting him in a bad mood – though, really, the same could be said for everyone in the caravan.

The goblin slaves in the wagon cages constantly whispered complaints, their teeth chattering, frostbite slowly taking their fingers. Most of them had cost Vrelyen quite a bit of silver, so really, he wouldn’t have been opposed to giving them extra clothing, but due to a rare lack of foresight, he had forgotten to buy any when he’d been in Lyerateh.

He sighed, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. It didn’t matter. The pukes would most likely survive anyway.

“How long until Amzev gets back?” asked Nalian. The man’s voice was raspy and unpleasant. He had a cold, too.

“Shouldn’t be long,” Vrelyen said. “He just needs to collect our payment for the girl, and he’ll come running back to us. Perhaps he’s already on his way.”

The mercenary’s expression darkened. “Should we really be collecting payment?” he asked. “The job isn’t done.”

Vrelyen shook his head, grimacing. “That’s the problem with you mercenaries,” he said. “No insight, no eye for business. Isn’t the job done as well as it needs to be? The customer will never see that girl again, and at the end of the day, that’s all she really wanted, isn’t it? So why not obtain a free slave to go with the priestess’s silver?”

“Because we said we would kill her, that’s why. Scamming a priestess rubs me the wrong way. Aren’t we basically stealing from the gods?”

Vrelyen chuckled. “Damned as we are, I don’t think it makes any sort of difference, Nalian. But go on, if you like. If you want forgiveness, go on and start praying. Get in one of the slave cages and repent. I’m sure the god Vifafey will appreciate it.”

Nalian shook his head. “Urgh. Pointless. Never mind, then.”

Eventually, Vrelyen’s butt began to ache a bit too much for his liking, and he got up from the hard wooden seat at the front of the caravan. He jumped onto the snow-covered ground, stretched his legs and arms, and took a short walk around, surveying the area to take his mind off the cold.

They were still in the Lyerateh forest, and they would be for a few more days before they reached the nearest other city. They had to get south. Traveling in the winter was rough, even if it was safer from bandits.

He made his way past the first three slaves’ carts, looking through the metal bars at the shuddering goblins, all huddled together, trying to conserve their body heat.

“Just a few more hours until we stop for your daily meal,” he told them. “You damned pukes. If you’re going to freeze to death, do it before then. More food for the rest of you that way.”

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In response, he got a few coughs and sniffles. Goblins never were particularly articulate. He had two half-breeds too, in one of the carts, but those weren’t much better, either.

He stood by and stretched, waiting for the first couple of carts to move past him and the last ones to reach him. His newest acquisition was in one of those, in the back. The young woman, a human, who had somehow made herself an enemy of a priestess of Vifafey.

She sat apart from the goblins in her cage as far away from them as was possible. She was huddled up with her knees in front of her chest, quietly mumbling a prayer – to Vifafey, of all gods – the one who apparently wanted her dead. Vrelyen stifled a laugh.

The girl’s teeth chattered with every syllable.

Vrelyen looked at her and smiled. He had never considered himself a do-gooder, but apparently, it wasn't impossible to become one. The woman would never know it, but really, she ought to be grateful to him. He could have just killed her as instructed – as all his mercenaries wanted, but instead, he was giving her a free trip to some city down south.

Not that he wouldn’t be compensated for it, he did mean to sell her, but that didn’t change things. He was saving her life. Wasn’t that a good thing?

The young woman looked up at him, her breath and body both trembling from the freezing cold. Her clothes were tattered, her sleeves too short. She didn’t say anything. After the first couple of days, she’d stopped begging him to sell her back to her mother. He couldn’t oblige her – at least as far as her hometown was concerned, if not reality, she did have to be dead. His reputation for honesty depended on it.

“You doing well?” he asked her. “Need anything?”

A few puke-colored goblin faces behind the woman turned to look at him, but they didn’t say anything. Over time, they had learned what to expect.

The human girl, however, apparently hadn’t. “Slaver,” she said. Her voice trembled.

Vrelyen turned to look at her. “What is it, girl?” he asked. “Are you cold?”

Her head suddenly twitched to the side, as if on its own, and she winced. He realized he’d forgotten her name.

“Would you like that wolf pelt?” he asked. Skinning her little pet had been quite the challenge, really, but once the thing would be dry, it’d make quite the coat. “It’s still a little bloody,” he said, “but I’m sure you’d like to be closer to the little beast of yours. I already gave my friend Amzev the head, though, to use as proof of your death.”

The woman looked horrified. Then, she shook her head and gazed up at him pleadingly. “P-please,” she said, teeth chattering. “I need to get out of here.”

“Haven’t we already gone over this a few times?” Vrelyen asked.

“Not free. I just … need to be out of this cart. Away from these people. You can tie me up.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Please.”

Vrelyen stared at the woman for a few moments, then shrugged. “You need to keep warm, girl. Huddle up to the pukes for a few hours, if you want to stay alive. And don’t worry. If you really want a few moments of freedom, me and my men will be happy to let you out in the evening to have some fun.”

The woman shrank back into herself. Vrelyen smiled. The merchants down south would pay extra if she remained a virgin – if she was one in the first place – but the ice and cold had really brought spirits down. Some entertainment would be welcome.

He turned to leave.

“I will carve the name of God into your flesh, Vrelyen, and I will call it mercy.”

A moment passed. Vrelyen's hair stood on end.

He spun back around, staring at the woman again. She was gazing at him with eyes that were white as snow, with no irises or pupils to speak of. Suddenly, her body tremored, and she fell forward onto the metal bars in front of her. Her eyes returned to normal.

“What did you say?” he asked.

She shook her head, looking around with a stupid expression on her face, then gazed up at him.

“What did you say?” he demanded.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open, but she just stared at him, apparently dumbfounded. “Um … Sorry!” she said. “I just wanted to ask you if you’d let me out of this cart.”

“Not that! Before! You. Tell me. What is my name?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“You just said it.”

“Did … Did I? I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

Vrelyen stared at her for a few more moments, but her continued stupid expression betrayed no hint of anything but confusion and fear. He looked to the other slaves, but they either really hadn’t heard or they were pretending not to have.

Uncomfortable, he grimaced and walked away without another word.