“He’s going to offer you a last chance to make good on your debt,” the less burly of the guards mutters into Yael’s ear as, once again behooded and bedonkeyed, they jounce off to certain doom in the desert.

“What?” she snaps. It takes her a second to realize which language he’s speaking.

“Up to you if you want to take it. He’s planning on killing you even if you succeed, but it’ll be some time before I can get an extraction team out here, so–”

“Unfortunate plover?” says Yael, astonished, starting to catch up.

“It’s ‘sturdy protuberance’ now,” he grimaces.