Earthseed

again.
    Owen’s hands dropped away. As she lifted her head, she saw that Manuel was gripping Owen’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”
    “Get back and guard the others.”
    “You don’t have to drown her.”
    “She tried to get away.”
    “Leave her to me.”
    Owen sprinted toward the other captives; Manuel led Zoheret back to the group. “I’m sorry he hurt you.” She tried to pull away, then noticed that his weapon was aimed at her. “I’ll have to tie you up again.”
    She did not reply. Owen covered her while Manuel bound her, tying her hands behind her back and making sure the rope around her ankles would hold.
    He left her, joining Owen on the rise. He had not tied her to the others, but she knew she could not free herself anyway. Both boys were watching them now. She pressed her cheek to the ground, trying to sleep.

    She was tired and sore in the morning. The ropes chafed her wrists. Her right arm was asleep; it prickled with pain as she slowly sat up.
    Owen and Manuel were eating. A night without sleep had made their faces drawn; there were shadows under Owen’s eyes and Manuel’s jaw muscles twitched. Manuel finished his breakfast, then threw them packets of food.
    Dmitri opened one packet and held it while Zoheret ate the tart, trying not to snap at the food like a wild beast. Now that she was fed, she could think. If they remained prisoners, Ho would have to feed them, a prospect that would not appeal to Ho, who preferred to steal food rather than work for it. He could force them to forage or hunt or fish, but he would have to guard them. Their capture would cause him a lot of trouble.
    She glanced at her companions, who were staring listlessly at the ground. They might attempt an escape, might try to overpower the two boys—something she could not do, tied as she was—yet they were not even looking for a chance. Get them over here, she thought; jump them, get their weapons—you can move your arms enough for that. She gazed at them, as though she could communicate her thoughts by thinking hard enough.
    Owen got to his feet, shaded his eyes, and pointed. “There they are,” he said to Manuel.
    Zoheret looked out at the lake. Four boats were approaching, each with a rower. Ho sat in the stern of one boat; she could recognize the arrogant tilt of his head even from a distance.
    “Do something,” she whispered to the others. “Before they get here.”
    “They’ll just make it worse for us,” Serena replied. Gervais looked away.

    When the boats were tied up, Ho gathered his group on the rise while his friend Vittorio guarded the prisoners. Manuel seemed to be arguing with Ho, but their voices were so low that Zoheret could not make out their words. Ho hissed; Manuel shook his head. Owen sat with the other three members of the band, ignored.
    “What do you think they’re going to do with us?” Kagami asked.
    Vittorio, pacing in front of them, laughed. “Throw you in the lake. That’s what we ought to do.”
    “Sure,” Tonio said.
    “Think we wouldn’t?”
    Zoheret said, “I’m sure you would.”
    Vittorio leaned forward, careful to stay far enough away so that he could not be grabbed. “We can row you out, and push you over the side.” He smiled, showing white teeth; his dark hair was pulled back in a long braid. “You won’t swim too well with those ropes.” He laughed again.
    Ho stood up and walked down the rise toward them. His friends followed him, fanning out to each side. Ho halted, folding his arms across his chest; his clothes were worn, and patches had been sewn on the knees of his pants. Both a gun and a knife were tucked into his belt. He glanced at Kagami and his mouth twisted into a half smile.
    “What are you going to do?” Zoheret asked.
    “She’s a troublemaker,” Owen said. “She tried—” The blond boy fell silent as Ho cast an icy glance in his direction.
    “Well,” Ho said, “if we keep you, we have to feed you and watch you. But if we let you go, you’ll just come after us. So we’ll have to use you. You’re going to help feed us.”
    “How?” Dmitri asked. “You can’t make us help.”
    “Oh, but I can. I’m going to send one of you back to the settlement as a messenger. That person is going to get us things we need and bring them back to me—otherwise, life will get very hard for the other five. They won’t eat, for one thing. And there are other things we can do to them.”
    “They’ll come after us,” Owen