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“A few weeks ago. Not a lot of them. No braids, but it’s hard to mistake a jël.” Maybe it wasn’t cold enough here for the short, fur capes, but everyone in Isfjold wore them. “No one knew where they’d come from, but no one wanted to report them to the jurls. They’re unlawfuls already. You understand.”

Revni did. Unlawfuls were a step even below thyl. It was a designation usually used for murderers and thieves. Without a legal tie, it not only meant you had no home, it meant you had no right even to your person. You could be robbed or attacked or murdered, and no one would be punished. Reporting the strangers would have made it official, and brought them notice. They’d be targeted.

“That was kind of you,” Revni said, but her heart had gone wild in her chest. It had to be people from the ships. What other Isfolj would simply wander in, and not present themselves?

“I hope we didn’t make a mistake.” She looked behind her again, pulled Revni deeper into the stinking alley. “They’ve made friends with the Faenish. There have been rumblings, talk of secret meetings. Is it true? That we are all in danger?”

“Yes.” No use pretending.

The woman massaged her own fingers, like working out a nerve. “Is it true that Aleteria has moved into the forest?”

“What do you mean?”

“The forest, the marshes. The land that separates them from us. I was born in Eaborik. Then it became Norbucum, then back to Eaborik, then Norbucum again. We heard of other Isfolj, in the north, but there were rumors.”

“What rumors?”

“And in the south— We’ve heard terrible stories.” She suddenly seemed to remember that she was the adult. She smiled tightly and dropped her hands. “Too terrible for someone your age, even a soti.” She gave Revni’s arm a maternal squeeze.

Revni swallowed. “In the south, if they catch you, they strip you naked and sell you to the highest buyer. Then they burn a rune into the center of your head.”

The woman turned so pale her lips went purple.

“Sa.” Her hands floated back up. She tugged her fingers and glanced again towards the Hall. The arguments had grown louder. There was a clacking of wood—doors shutting or shields being slapped. “Where are we to go? When the fighting starts?”

“What fighting?” Revni said bitterly. The Isfolj jurls were cowards.

“If the Aleterians have moved into the forest…You can only push people so far. The Faenish…” She trailed off, as if the rest spoke for itself.

“Can you speak to the jurls?” Revni asked. The woman swung her gaze back to her. “Get them to fight?”

“I don’t want them to fight.” Her eyes watered. “I want nothing to happen at all.”

“Sira?”

The woman’s head whipped. “I’m here! Be safe, Gondyttr.” She hurried away, and Revni started down the alley. The warrior whose sword Revni had taken would come after her to pick a fight; the jurls weren’t going to let her insolence go unchallenged.

But more importantly, if someone from the ships had made it⁠—

What? What would that change? Would it make the revenge she craved more necessary or less?

Revni’s feet sounded a discomfiting squelch as she hurried deeper into the winding channel. She’d long learned to ignore the bite of all the blisters she’d developed over the past few weeks, but with the sudden influx of moisture soaking her toes, she grit her teeth. New boots would definitely need to be part of her future.

A patch of sunlight ahead made Revni move more cautiously. Was she an unlawful now, too? She added it to the list of things that people kept trying to make her: Aleterian slave. Isfolj thyl. Unlawful. She wasn’t any of those things. But as she emerged into sweeter air, she felt a crumpling in her chest. Did it matter what she was called? This bustling street, full of shops and stalls— Each one of them was someone, completely unaware that their world was about to be upended. She could see the news traveling like a passing of a barrel: one person hurrying to share, the receiver turning their interested expression to their neighbor. But what exactly were they sharing? They didn’t look horrified, only intrigued. Like the jurls, had she hoped that they would panic?

Revni ducked her shoulders and moved more quickly. Laughter and conversations, someone setting down a bucket to retie an apron, another pausing to pick a pebble out of their sandal. An Aleterian soldier took a dainty bite of whatever meat-on-a-stick he’d just purchased, and blew hot air, seething. But he didn’t turn and shout at the seller, who rotated his wares over the flame, or strike him. He strolled on, granting a friendly “Silve” to people as he passed. This wasn’t an army with new orders, at least not yet. At least she still had time.

But for what? Without the help of the jurls, without an army at her back, what could she possibly do? She was only one person, she reminded herself.

Just as Eavus was only one person, she thought bitterly. And yet, because of him, all the horror would be set in motion.

Revni sucked in a breath, a new realization striking her like a slap.

Because of her.

She’d had the chance to put an end to it! Back at the longhouse, she’d taken the knife off Eavus’ belt, but not the message itself. What an idiot she was! She could have destroyed the message right then. Or that meeting of the leaders at the monastery— They’d been right there! Leaders who were sure to speak Brigfaen. Had she tried to reach them? Tried to warn them? Done anything besides run, filled with all her rage? She’d vilified Eavus for only thinking of himself, but she’d done the exact same thing—thought only of her own future, come all the way here to Eaborik to choose the Isfolj, over all these lives. What kind of person was she?

Yet again, she noted with shame, she had done nothing.