Let's see if we can make a deal.

Nicolas considered his scouts' report on the military encampment along the river road to the right. The Whoriesses could be quite a distraction to his men. But if they could enlist the band's help in fording the river, or make a profitable sale from amongst his caravan's goods -- especially the bulkier goods -- it could be well worthwhile.

"Fletcher," he asked the half-elf woodsman, "Did you see any military engineers in the camp?"

"Can't really say, boss," Fletcher said.

"They put up a ditch and rampart, so they got a scratch or two of engineering," Kergoth said. Nicolas' half-orc guard captain had army experience which came to bear.

"They'd cut some trees, too," Fletcher added.

Nicolas nodded. "With luck, they might have someone who could help us cross the river. Did they have draft beasts?"

"Coupl'a mules," Fletcher said. "A few horses. Kind of light on animals actually, for their number."

"Might have lost their baggage train in a retreat," Kergoth said.

"Or they're an advance guard," Nicolas replied. "Tents?" he asked Fletcher.

"One. Lean-tos round the fire pits, mostly," Fletcher said.

Nicolas smiled. "I think we might be able to come to a mutually profitable arrangement. Let's see if they want to deal," he said.

Nicolas arranged for a small mounted advance party of himself, Mendu Gol, Kergoth, and another guard. Mendu Gol was an Easterner who had trained as a physician before having to flee his native land, and since then had made a living as clerk, scribe, barber, and knife-fighting instructor. Nicolas found him a valuable, if sometimes odd, member of his traveling group. Flanking ahead on foot would be Fletcher and Tree-Tall, who could move almost as quietly as the half-elf woodsman.

Kergoth said, "Around the next bend, boss, and they should see us. The camp's across the creek and up over a little rise."

As they rounded the bend in the damp, leaf-strewn track, Nicolas heard loud moans in a woman's voice. He reined in to stop, look, and listen. The sounds subsided to whimpers, He looked at his companions.

Kergoth shrugged.

Mendu Gol frowned. "Like unto a woman in her travails, mayhap. Or her Pleasures."

In another minute, the voice rose again. The rustle of foliage revealed its location in the bushes right across the stream. A flash of pink flesh betrayed the voice's owner.

Nicolas swung down off his horse.

"Wait, boss," Kergoth hissed.

Nicolas jumped the small stream, landing lightly on his soft-soled boots. He spread the branches to reveal...