"How?"
He roared the word and spun on Nan. He grabbed the front of her dress and shouted into her face. "How?"
"Men," she murmured. "Came. Dragged us out."
Her eyes closed. Her head lulled. He roared and shook her again. "Who? Who?"
"Ben. McGinty. And the Millers. Others." She broke off, fading again. With a snarl he grabbed her head and dove into her mind, fighting through gray phantoms, to the flash of her most recent memories. He saw seven men, mostly their neighbors, farmers. He saw them pushing through the house, saw the destruction of the parlor as Nan fought them, throwing one into the bookcase and knocking another into the stand. Saw as she shot Ben McGinty in the stomach. Watched him crumple to the floor. Watched as they knocked Nan to the rug a final time, gutting her with a knife, then stormed down the hallway-
The memories stuttered to a stop. There was only blackness. Jorick pulled away. Nan was dead, and her mind, and thoughts, were lost to him.
Lost forever.