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Revni, for the first time, looked at her. Her breath stopped in her throat.

“Hillfort,” she corrected. The woman knew. The woman knew Revni was lying. “Place people live,” she said significantly, then translated into Aleterian.

That buzzing in her limbs again. Revni could run. She’d be taken down immediately, but the gate was still open, the men on duty casually leaning against the walls. Maybe she could make it…

The commander gave a small nod, and Eavus’ shoulders dropped. Had Revni passed the test? They spoke again, and the servant turned back to Revni.

“Dinaeii girl,” she said, with a look that could only be described as solidarity. “How come in wagon?”

“Stolen from my bed.”

Revni held the commander’s gaze again, a moment too long. His brow furrowed in the slightest question, and Revni dropped her eyes. I hear you, Kyrianos. Patience.

It was an eternity. The Aleterian Empire crumbled to dust and was reborn again in the amount of time it took for the commander to make a decision, to discuss whatever he needed to discuss with Eavus. It seemed she’d been forgotten, they all had, the seven prisoners with no brand, the however-many-others who truly were escaped slaves or convicts and destined to be returned to the driver’s care. Because that was what happened. The legitimate prisoners were hustled into a group at the points of spears, then tied together in a long line and shuffled away. The driver argued with the Aleterian officers a while longer, throwing up his hands in wild gestures of unfairness, and was finally threatened enough into backing down that he jumped back into the seat of his wagon and urged it towards the cart sheds, with a final vengeful look at Revni and the others.

Finally, the soldiers dispersed, leaving Revni and the rest of them unsure where to go. They mingled in the center of the entrance square, sharing looks of fearful hope and uneasy confusion. Eavus had accompanied the commander toward a building, but the older man now clapped him on the shoulder and gestured back in her direction. The servant woman flashed Revni an uneasy smile. They both held their breath.

A slim, brown-haired man jogged over, wiping dust off his hands. He wore clothing in the same gray and yellowed weave of several of the prisoners that stood with Revni, and he smiled broadly as he explained the situation to his clansmen. The old man burst into relieved tears and crumpled to the ground, and others helped right him, even those who still looked confused. Chatter followed, those who spoke something else filling the others in, and the servant woman gave Revni a tip of her head.

“Are free to go. Mistake.”

A teenage boy grinned and tried to shake Eavus’ hand, but Eavus shied away, his expression grim. He spoke sharply to the male interpreter, who babbled something like an apology and shooed the newly-freed prisoners away from the soldier. The servant woman gave a quick bow and turned to go.

“Luck to have,” she whispered quickly, and then hurried back to her duties.

Revni’s heart was still pounding so hard she was afraid to take a proper breath. She didn’t want to shatter in the middle of the square like the old man had done. But she was terrified that if she moved a muscle the whole thing would come crashing down around her again, like the fort was a pageant-wagon stage, held in place by the children of performers, and all one had to do was spook the horse to watch the whole thing collapse. Activity resumed around her, however. The clank of anvils and whoosh of bellows, the shouts of orders or reminders. Bare legs in Aleterian sandals dropped a hunk of bread and cursed as a bird immediately swooped in and snatched it. Revni finally looked up. Eavus stood before her, as frozen in place as she was, the only two stationary creatures left in a world that kept spinning on despite them.

Eavus swallowed. Revni didn’t know how to feel. Everything was twisted in her heart—hatred and anger and relief and gratitude. She couldn’t unravel one emotion from the other, couldn’t even determine which belonged to him and which to something else. He held out an arm, gesturing for her to go in a certain direction, so she did. He sidled next to her as they walked and spoke Gerstunt in a low voice.

“We’ll get you food, and then I’ll get you out of here. Do you want to get cleaned up? No baths, I’m afraid,” he gently teased, “but we can get you wine.”

“I could use it,” Revni said wryly.

“For the cuts,” Eavus clarified. “Is it just the face?”

He resisted looking her over, but she could feel the pull of it. “Some other bruises. I’ll live.” Several bruises, in fact. Her knee throbbed from when she’d gone down, and the pain in her lower ribs had barely dimmed in the day since the driver’s man had kicked her. The other injuries barely registered—scrapes and chafes, but nothing worse than she’d gotten in any other fight.

“Why Dinaeii?” she asked as quietly as she could.

“It’s the first thing I thought of.” He had a sheepish look. “Pure gibberish.” He held in his smile, keeping his eyes forward as he took her elbow and steered her around a pile of dung. He pointed to several long rows of tables under a flat roof, and then walked away. She took a seat on a stool at the end.

The fort reminded her of the trading ports at Karnut. It had the same energy, the same mix of bleached and rotted wood, the same smells of too many different needs at once. This corner was quiet, but it was likely due to the time of day. A wide space looped around the tables and into the building where Eavus had gone, and she could imagine the lines of people it was designed to hold. Smoke drifted in waves from whatever fire lay on the other side. A few people gave her curious looks as they moved about their business, but they all seemed to be servants or tradesmen. No soldiers, anyway.

Eavus returned with a steaming wooden bowl in one hand and a squat pitcher in the other. Revni’s stomach gnarled.

“You’ll need to eat quickly.” The stew smelled of bacon and had thick chunks of vegetables. Revni snatched up the wooden spoon before the bowl had finished rattling on the table. “It’s hot,” he warned, backing away.

“Where are you going?” Revni’s mouth watered, but she stirred the bowl vigorously, trying to get it to cool.

“Careful with the wine. It’s not watered.”

Revni had never actually had wine before. She took a wary sniff. The alcohol bit at the insides of her nose. It smelled vaguely of the vinegar drink he loved so well, but fruitier. Revni dove into her food instead. It burned her tongue, but she downed it anyway, the lump of heat traveling down her throat and settling in her belly. Was Aleterian food that tasty, or was she just that hungry? She didn’t care. She could have eaten two bowls, three. She had purchased food in Lordinius with Eavus’ gold coins, along with the clothes she was wearing and a small knife that was now gone, but she had tried to be careful with her purchases, not wanting to draw attention to herself or carry too much, so it had mostly been dried meat and flat cakes of hard bread. She didn’t know what had happened to the rest of her supplies. Taken by the slave catcher, most likely. Or still sitting there, the little pillow she’d made tucked into the nook between tree roots where she had been sleeping. The thought of the lonely sack waiting for her, never to return, inexplicably made her eyes water.

Eavus returned while she was scraping her bowl clean. He looked mildly impressed. He unstacked the bowls he carried and set them both on the table, the top one sloshing liquid, but he checked to make sure no one was watching before he removed his helmet and sat opposite. He tipped some of the liquid into the empty bowl, then the wine, adjusting until the color was right, then dipped a cloth in it and gestured for her face. Revni leaned forward. She hadn’t realized the skin was broken until Eavus dabbed the mixture on it and she took a seething breath.

“Sorry, it smarts.”

“It’s fine.”