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“The eastern coast,” Kena answered. “We’re Oditi. Our parents apprenticed us out.”
Eavus nodded. The Oditi were one of the first Arnean tribes to establish trade with Aleteria. If you could call forced tribute and re-education of children trade. Which Aleteria did.
“What will you do? You can’t stay in a pantry forever.”
“There are a few of us that help each other out,” she said again. “I don’t know if they’d help you, but Rast and me, we’ll find friends. There’s food at the barracks. Most people don’t like to go there on account of the foxes, but I’ve been once or twice.”
“The foxes?”
The voice came from the corner. “They eat the bodies.”
Eavus flinched. Every time Rast spoke he became more convinced the boy was haunted.
Eavus turned back to Kena. “We haven’t eaten or slept properly in days. We need to find a regiment.”
Kena’s eyes widened. “You don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
She bit her lip, her eyes flicking over him. Eavus, for the first time in days, felt self-conscious of his dirty tunic, his lack of any military gear. “I’ve seen what they do to soldiers who come back alone.”
Eavus knew the answer, but he couldn’t stop the question pulling out of him. “What do they do?”
Rast’s eyes were as hollow as his voice. “They takes their guts out. They leave them in the square like a string of sausages.”
Eavus tried to swallow, but found it stuck in his throat. His mind was a blank. Damn came back again to fill it. Damn damn damn. He needed his own tent party, his own commander. He wasn’t a deserter, dammit. He just needed to find someone he could explain everything to. Someone that could vouch for him before some hot-headed squalus commander decided to make an example of him. Someone who would actually listen.
“Lordinius.” The idea rushed over him with something close to elation. The heart of the empire. At least, the heart of it here in Arnea. There were people there that knew him, his name on the books—the paymaster, tirenis he’d served under. And no more of this criss-crossing wild territory. Every road south led to Lordinius. “We’re going to Lordinius. Do you think you could find me armor in those barracks? And enough supplies?”
“Has you killed anyone with that sword?” Rast pointed.
Eavus’ hand tickled toward it, but he resisted the urge.
“I have,” he said carefully.
“Faenish people? Oditi?”
“No Oditi.”
“What about her?” Rast came out of his hole to point at Revni.
“She’s new here.”
“Has she killed Faenish people?”
“Caerdeneii,” Eavus admitted.
Rast narrowed his eyes.
“They live north. And only because they were trying to kill her.”
Rast hesitated. “Why doesn’t she talk?”
“She doesn’t speak Aleterian.”
Rast snorted in derision, a sound that made Eavus unreasonably annoyed.
“She speaks Brigfaen,” he offered, enjoying the shocked looks on the children's’ faces. Revni raised her eyebrow his direction, and he gave her a look that waved her off. He’d explain later.
