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“What if it doesn’t stop until nightfall?” Eavus’ jaw hurt from clenching it. A long drop of water escaped his neck and ran down his spine.

She gave him a withering look. “I am Isfolj. You think I do not know the stars?” There was a tickle in the corner of her mouth. Eavus groaned.

“Fine. Let’s go to your shed.”

Plodding behind her through the wet grass, Eavus couldn’t figure out how she kept winning. He wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t soft. But somehow she kept making arguments that seemed irrefutable. At least in the shed he could get a few minutes’ peace, to try to think this through. Revni was no longer his concern, he reminded himself. He needed to figure out his own plans. They hadn’t seen any travelers the whole morning, and he didn’t know if that was good or bad. Were there delays on those prisoners coming out of Triconum for some reason? He didn’t think much was west, except the mines. Obviously, there were Arneans—Faenish, he corrected himself. The clan that had attacked Colcium, they were from the west, the prefect had said. Some sort of intertribal warfare, a question of succession among the chiefs. Was something going on in the western tribes then, that none of the people had a need to go east? Or did the locals simply use their own back paths and trails, their own secret passages through their country? Every possibility was worrisome. He didn’t like being directionless.

They had to crouch to enter. The shed was even more dilapidated than it looked from outside, with one wall consisting of only two rough-hewn planks to prop up the rotting ceiling. There was a large, wet circle beneath the hole in the roof, but the sounder side remained remarkably dry. Eavus lay his kit pole down carefully, trying to keep his bedroll from touching anything. Hopefully this had been used to house the animals instead of what came out of them. Either option smelled possible, manure and hay wrestling with mildew to see which stench emerged victorious.

Revni sat contentedly, staring out at the road through that missing wall, her feet flat and her elbows resting on her knees.

“You promised me firewood,” Eavus said wryly, taking a seat near the corner.

“Sa,” she agreed. “But not yet.”

“Are we waiting for something?”

“Too wet.” She tilted her chin to the outdoors. “It would only smoke.”

She was right, again, of course, but it didn’t make anything easier.

Eavus shared some of the food from his pack, and they ate in easy silence, the rain thumping off the roof. Revni truly did look like she was waiting for something, her eyes keenly fixed on the path they’d left behind. The tension in his shoulders shifted to a different kind. He should have given her a little more credit, he supposed. It’s not like she was trying to delay them. He shifted his weight, the gritty sand of the floor beginning to chafe. Hadn’t they come far enough together that he could trust her? Telling her the message he carried was not an option, of course—he knew exactly how she’d react—but maybe letting her in regarding his dilemma wouldn’t be so terrible. She might have ideas.

He waited for the roll of thunder to pass, shifting his seat again. Revni, he practiced. I need your help. That wasn’t so bad.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, Revni suddenly leaned forward, hopping from her seat into a crouch.

“Wha—?” Eavus turned to see what she had seen, but she was gone, scrambling out of the shed.

He reached for his kit pole, but she paused to hiss, “Leave it,” and scurried off.

Leave it? What was happening? Eavus twisted, peering through the hole in the shed. It looked like a wagon in the distance, any noise of its wheels muffled by another thundering rumble. A wagon was good. That was what they were waiting for, wasn’t it?

Eavus followed her out, but Revni wasn’t headed for the wagon. She was cutting across the field to the path ahead of it, to the bushes near the curve, keeping her body low. Eavus mimicked her form, crouching as best he could, but he felt gangly and awkward, his wet cape weighing him down. What in the nine realms was going on?

He snuck next to her, and she gestured him lower without looking at him.

“What is happening?” he whispered.

“Shh.” She glanced quickly. “Get out your dagger.”

Obediently, Eavus drew the short weapon. She had the ax in her hand. The wagon was drawn by two miserable oxen, but he couldn’t make out the driver beneath the rivulets of rain running off his cone-shaped hat.

“Aren’t we—” asking directions is what he was going to say, but the words died in his throat. Those were hands in the back, wrapped around the rails.

The slaver.

“You can’t!” Eavus grabbed her arm, but his hand slipped as Revni leapt to her feet, the slickness of the rain assisting. She’d have said it was her gods. He cursed, jumping to follow.

But it wasn’t necessary. She moved so swiftly he froze with a shiver of fear, for the driver, for himself if she ever took him by surprise. She closed the distance at a sprint, seizing the ox’s horn and wrenching it to the side, ducking out of the beast’s way even as she kept moving. The ox lowed in protest, the driver barely able to pull the reins before Revni launched herself onto his seat. With a massive swing, her ax lodged into his ribs and was yanked back out. Eavus choked on an inappropriate bubble of laughter. Gods help me if I get on her bad side. Weakly, the driver flailed the whip, but Revni caught it and jerked the slaver closer, shifting her weapon’s grip and driving the ax head sharply under his chin. Clearly she didn’t need Eavus’ help at all. Revni hopped back down, away from the burst of blood. The wagon lumbered a few feet more and came to a stop. The driver’s head lolled sickly towards his bloody chest. Revni stilled, panting.

A shadow on the far side of the wagon landed with a thump.

“Revni!”

She dropped just in time, ducking the sudden sword that appeared behind her and slamming her body into the new attacker’s shins. Of course the slaver would have a bodyguard. He must have been riding on the side, on the back.

She’s such an idiot, Eavus thought as he raced forward. The guard swung again as Revni rolled, and he must have clipped her because she gave a shout of pain as she threw the ax, her aim off. The cry punched an unexpected hole in Eavus’ chest that spurred him faster. The man raised the sword high, and Eavus slammed into him from behind, one hand cranking the man’s head to the side while the other drove the dagger up into the armpit and across, severing the artery in his arm. Eavus kept hold of the guard while he went down, like a hug.