The braided shark-leather cords creaked around Trals's wrists. He twisted, pulled, but Andrea had tied him up well.

She gave him a little slap anyway. "Stop that."

"It is a prisoner's first duty to escape." Light from the tent's smoke-hole shown off his teeth. "But perhaps the knots in which you gird me are more tightly binding than this mere shark leather."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "For Christ's sake. Is there any time when you shut up?"

"I might be more amenable to ...