The captives, one old and one much younger, were as pale as the sickly moon. Their clothes were filthy from the woods and their eyes were dim with guilt and fear. “Capitán,” the younger one said as Vidal scrutinized them wordlessly, “this is my father.” He gestured to the older man. “He is an honorable man.” “I’ll be the judge of that.” Although Vidal enjoyed fear in a man’s face, it made him angry at the same time.
