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“And you carry this?”

“Since Lordinius.”

“You carry this, since Lordinius?” Her jaw tightened.

Eavus nodded.

“You carry this, when you travel through these people’s lands, unharmed? When you help those Varou in Triconum, and see the other ones cry to go home?” Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her eyes had gone so wild that Eavus was afraid to move. “You carry this message with me next to you? Let me help you, let me fight to get you back? Only to help in the murder of my people? You carry this message on the same hip you carry Caerdeneii child? Why save him?!”

“I didn’t have a choice⁠—”

“No choice! You say it doesn’t even matter!”

“But it does matter⁠—”

“Yes, for your money and your freedom,” she spit the word, like a curse. “I thought the gods had willed me to you, that you were my purpose. But they put you in my path so I could see that drothr are still at work.” Revni flung open the wooden chest, pulling out scraps of cloth, a drop spindle still full with thread, a pile of carded wool. She yanked the lone blanket from the bottom and whipped it around her shoulders. Eavus couldn’t tear his eyes from the pulse throbbing in her neck. “We had a deal, and it is Broken.” She said the word like a declaration. “Sygt nid feyn.” She thrust her fingers into the hot ashes of the fire and drew a line across her throat, then down the bridge of her nose. “The shield is split.” She spit into the dirt, then held his gaze one last time, as if waiting for a response.

His mind had emptied. He should say something, do something. A lump traveled in his throat, and it seemed the best he could muster. Revni flared her nostrils, marched to his belt, and then, before he could even begin to understand what just happened, cold wind sent a shiver to his back.

The slam of the door jolted him into action. He scrambled to escape the tub, but the space around it had turned to mud and he slipped, cursing as he almost stepped into the dying fire. The wrath of Viduus on her! Wasn’t that what he had been trying to tell her, he fumed. He scrambled to find something to dry off with. All the fabric she’d thrown on the floor was rags and scraps. He finally gave up and threw his tunic on, the clammy clinging of the coarse linen nothing compared to the panic in his gut.

Where was she going? Where could she have gone? He raced to the door and flung it open, but he was still barefoot and the moon cast long shadows in the blue darkness. Why was he chasing after her anyway? He slammed the door, rattling the lintel. Shield-siblings, she’d called them. Was that what this was? He had fought with her, and she had fought with him. They’d saved each other’s lives. He wanted to strangle her half the time he spent with her. And now that was over, apparently. Well, good riddance.

He had another flash of panic—she’d gone to his belt. No, he breathed easier. The little cylinder was still secure in its strap. But all his anger returned when he saw the empty loop beside it. The little monster had taken his knife.

So she was well and truly gone. Where in the nine temples was she going to go anyway, in the middle of the night? She’d be back. Eavus sat on the edge of the wool mattress. She was going to miss out, that was all. Maetis was going to come back with real food—maybe a joint of lamb, or a side of bacon—and he’d eat every scrap, lick the grease from his fingers, too. And then he’d get a long night’s sleep on the most comfortable bed he’d ever felt in his life, and he’d spread out like a starfish. Take up the whole thing. No more of this struggling to keep warm together. His limbs tingled with memory. She’d taken the blanket too, he noted, scowling. Well, he still had his cape, and it was good enough for them then, and it was good enough for him now. If he never saw her again, frankly, it was for the best. They had to split up sometime. Now he could march straight up to the gates of Norbucum, report in, take his money and his cara propita and his promotion and all would be exactly as it should be. House of Caea bless him, if he became the official liaison or whatever it was the prefect had suggested, it wouldn’t even matter that he’d punched an engineer. He’d outrank him.

Eavus added a log to the fire. If she did come back, she’d be cold. He felt silly, but he went to check the door anyway. He’d make fun of her, if she came back apologetic and shivering. All the insults he was planning vanished as his chest gave a little leap. A light, bobbing in the distance. His scowl fell over him again. That couldn’t be her. She didn’t have a torch. Eavus sulkily shut the door and went back to squat by the fire.

“I’ve brought you what I could,” Maetis said when he entered. “It’s not much, and it’s gone cold now, but ah—” He indicated the low flames happily. “You have the fire.” Eavus momentarily brightened, but at the bowl in Maetis’ hands his mood returned in full force. Porridge.

“Revni’s gone. But I’ll take it.”

The monk took up the charred wooden stick that served as a stoker and scraped at the gray ashes. “Yes. I saw her.”

Eavus’ head snapped up. “You saw her?”

“We intercepted each other.” Maetis poured the slop into a pot—the same pot Revni had already used, the sticky remnants of their prior meager meal still there.

Eavus shook his head, gritting his teeth. Of course. She was no idiot. “I thought it wasn’t safe to stay the night.”

“It isn’t. I turned her back. She was somewhat insistent, but I couldn’t understand the language—my Caerdeneii is bad enough. I don’t know what she was speaking. But I tried to tell her the boy would be taken care of.”

Eavus’ stomach dropped. She’d probably been trying to warn the tribal leaders. Gods damn her, she was going to start a war.

“I did recognize ‘Norbucum,’ and that I could help with.” He pointed, in what Eavus imagined was the right direction. “Straight as the arrow flies. So the soldiers say.”

Eavus grunted. She’d have a head start, he supposed, but she had to rest somewhere. She was as exhausted as he was. “I doubt she’ll make it. She’ll get kidnapped again. Or run into another Aleterian scouting party and get herself killed.”

The porridge popped slow, gloppy bubbles, and Maetis stirred it. “Oh, not to worry. There hasn’t been a scouting party here since the one that left a few days after you. I think Aleteria has given up on our little slice of paradise.”

It took a moment for Eavus to translate what he’d said into something that made sense. “A few days after—? A regiment was here? When we were? How close?”

“Ah.” The monk didn’t look over. He just kept that same cursed stirring, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Yes. I believe they were camped about a day south.”

Eavus was stunned. “When I asked if you know where they’d gone—You lied.”

“Did I? Oh. Well. You would have turned her over. And letting a girl be tortured and killed was not within my god’s plan. Nor was letting a feverish slave stumble mindlessly into a murderous commander’s camp. You needed to heal.”