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Revni righted a large, cracked bowl. It was one of those oversized catch-alls that cheaper bathhouses used, for towels or whatever other dirty items patrons wanted to throw in. Eavus imagined the bowls hadn’t been cleaned in ages either.

“Ha!” In the dim light he couldn't make out what she’d found. “This will be useful,” she muttered, plucking something else out of the shards. “So?” she asked, without turning.

“So what?”

“Why do Aleterians like to be dirty?”

“We don’t! I bathe at least once a month. When they’re available.” He didn’t know why her judgment bothered him so. He was practically fastidious, compared to some of the other soldiers. But that Isfolj would think his people dirty…True, he’d never met any before Revni. But they were savages. He had heard they bathed in blood.

Revni snorted as she stood. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Aleteria leaves its mark wherever it goes.”

It was a common expression, one Aleteria was proud of. Roads, aqueducts, cities, public art. Aleteria always left wherever they’d been improved.

“In Isfolj, mark is the same word as smear.” She grinned. “Like poop in a diaper.”

Eavus glowered. “For someone whose people are not here, you’re in a rather good mood.”

“Sa. But I am glad the gods are watching out for us.”

Yet again, Eavus’ brain reeled. Every time she made some odd pronouncement, he felt like he’d been punched in the head. “How do you figure that?”

“The Dinaeii sent us on a path that would have delayed us. You were in a hurry and changed it. We got delayed again, because of taking time to find food after the Blue Men, but not delayed enough. Then the gods sent my inconvenience. We were both annoyed. But now here we are: two days later than you had hoped, and by the smoke, if we had been here two days before we would both be dead. The gods are watching.”

Bare knuckle fists. That’s what she was.

“Come on, stinky.”

They left the bathhouse, only to stand for a moment under the shelter of its small awning.

“What did you find?”

“A comb.” She held it up, half its teeth broken. “And cloth.” It was only a couple of old washcloths, but she seemed pleased. She tucked the comb next to them in the quickbasket strung to her hip.

“I’d rather you found something to eat.”

“Me, too.”

The rain was turning the streets to mud. They must be in the original settlement section. Aleteria would have put down gravel, or at least planks. If he wanted to find the barracks or the armory, that would be the first clue. Eavus darted to the next low overhang, then the next, but each turn seemed to move them deeper into the tight-packed labyrinth. Every breeze brought a new sensation: infested meat, the acrid bite of something caustic, the too sweet smell of overripe fruit or vomit. More than once, Eavus caught an orange glow out of the corner of his eye, down some thin alley, but they licked off corners and disappeared quickly. Maybe it was tricks of light. Ghosts. Maener’s voice. Ghosts didn’t light torches, Eavus thought, instantly feeling the shame of cowardice. Did they want to find people or avoid them? He couldn’t be sure, and his angry stomach wasn’t helping.

He paused beneath a charred wooden sign half-dangling from its chain, the carved stalks still clinging to their green paint. Whatever business the sign had been marking was nothing but rubble. The cloak had kept most of the rain off his back, but Revni huddled next to him, looking miserable. He didn’t need her getting sick. They’d had enough delays.

Just enough, he couldn’t help but think. Damn her and her gods.

“There,” Revni whispered. “There might be food.”

It looked like it had been a tavern—the remains of tables littered a courtyard. The thatched roof had been burned away and the stone walls were black, but they still stood. They might find an intact larder, he mused, or—he’d believe in Revni’s gods if this could appear—smoked meat in the cellar. Eavus’ mouth filled with saliva, and he hurried his steps, squishing through mud so deep it rose between the straps of his shoes.

When they reached the courtyard, Revni’s cold hand pressed into his arm, but she hadn’t needed to. He heard it, too. A careful rummaging—a clay pot’s scrape as it was moved, the drag of wood on stone. Eavus flexed his fingers around the hard leather wrapping his hilt, but held. Someone inside cursed.

Revni gestured for her ax with a question on her face, but Eavus shook his head, thinking.

But Damn seemed to be the only thought he could muster. Damn, damn, damn. He was ravenous. He was wet, and tired, and the cold was beginning to stiffen his fingers. But the last thing he wanted to do was kill someone over a haunch of meat, or expose the two of them when they still didn’t know what had happened. There was a thump and another curse, this one louder, like someone had stubbed their toe, but Eavus brightened. At least they spoke Aleterian. He drew back his shoulders and took a deep breath, just as he heard Revni sharply suck in one of her own.

“Run!”