The iron was cold against his wrists. Something that seeped into his bones and settled there like a second skeleton. Lin Shen walked between the veiled kidnappers, his spear gone, his psychic senses muted, and felt the absence of the world's thoughts like a missing limb.
The children had stopped crying. They followed at the rear of the group, their faces pale, their eyes fixed on the ground. The little girl kept glancing at Lin Shen. Each time, her mouth opened as though to speak. Each time, she closed it without making a sound.
The bandit leader walked beside him. His name was Goran. He had volunteered it during the march, as though introducing himself to a new employee rather than a prisoner.
"You look surprisingly calm," Goran said.
Lin Shen glanced at him.
"I have been in worse situations."
Goran laughed softly. "I doubt that."
Lin Shen said nothing.
