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“You’re such an idiot,” Eavus panted, finally kicking the man away.

Revni pushed herself to her feet. “You should take the sword.”

“I’m not allowed to carry it,” he reminded her. The more he thought of it, the more annoyed he got. The man may have been a slaver, but he was a citizen, permitted to trade with Aleteria itself. What were they going to do with these bodies? And what about the people? They were legitimate prisoners, after all, branded slaves. “What are you doing?”

Revni had hauled the driver’s body off the seat with a thump. The blood was still dribbling out of his neck in increasingly weak pulses, the rain washing it down his mangled body. Eavus turned away.

Somehow that was worse. Caged eyes stared at him, all of them silent, all of them wide. Why weren’t they saying anything? No one was begging. No one was cheering. What had these scrawny people been through, that even now they were too afraid to respond, only waiting to see what horrors came next?

Revni grunted, repeatedly. Eavus turned at the clink of coins as she upended the slaver’s purse. Revni gave the corpse a frustrated kick, then stepped over him, pausing only to pluck a long knife from the man’s boot.

Eavus’ head was swimming. “You can’t cut them loose.” There would be paperwork on these people. There would be paperwork particularly on these people, because he’d insisted on it, back in Triconum. Insisted on making the slaver produce invoices and bills of sale. All to get Revni out.

“Would you leave them here?”

Her eyes were still the color of the sea, but now in the midst of a storm, waves crashing on rocks.

“Where are they going to go?”

“Wherever they want.”

Eavus sighed. Revni took out her anger on the leather straps holding the cage together, sawing so vigorously the whole cart swayed and creaked. They at least had to drag the corpses into the woods. They couldn’t just leave them here.

Revni spoke Dinaeii, then Brigfaen. No one seemed to understand. Eavus started on the task he’d given himself, first removing the slaver’s hat to cover his glassy eyes and mutilated throat. The rain plinked off the coins scattered on the man’s chest, those on the ground beginning to sink into muddy divots. With a pang of conscience, Eavus pinched them up. They’d do no one any good being left behind, but it felt wrong. Self-defense was one thing, and he couldn’t blame Revni’s anger, but adding thievery to the mix made him feel…complicit.

The side rails of the wagon came down with a clack. Eavus suppressed a shudder—the body was beginning to leak fluids—and took the slaver by the wrists, tugging him around the cart. A young boy immediately stopped Eavus with a tap on his shoulder, followed by a woman who laid a hand on his back. They had the same tired bruising around their eyes. Maybe they were related. Through gestures, Eavus gathered they wanted to take over, but instead of resuming dragging the corpse, they started going through his pockets. Eavus’ stomach turned. He crouched, holding out the coins he’d found, and the woman eagerly scratched them up. Her ragged nails and darting eyes, making sure no one else noticed, turned his stomach again, and Eavus closed his hand around the last few and stood, earning a surprised grumble of protest. He should distribute them to others, at least. Or keep them. He didn’t know. The young boy was unlacing the man’s boots.

Young boy. He was probably twelve. Was that young here? Eavus couldn’t be sure. Children didn’t seem to exist anymore, only those who had suffered, and those who soon would.

He turned away. The other man, the bodyguard, was wearing only a tunic, nothing much worth robbing, Eavus supposed. Only the sword, which a thin man had already taken hold of, and the shoes, which another girl was working on removing. Other people were dispersing into the woods or moving towards the fields. Two men were working to free the oxen from their yoke, their whispers inaudible. The remaining coins blistered Eavus’ palms.

“You’d better get your kit.” Revni tilted her chin towards their shed.

Eavus cursed under his breath. If they stole his kit⁠—

He jogged forward, but the thin man misinterpreted his sudden movement and leaped back, shakily offering the sword. “Please,” he begged.

Eavus waved him off. Let them keep it. Let them keep all of it. He tossed the money in the man’s direction even as he shouted “Stop!” to the figure in the field.

At his booming Aleterian, however, the woman tripping through the weeds took one panicked look over her shoulder and ran faster. Eavus slowed. She hadn’t been headed for the shed after all. And then, finally, the man’s word filtered through. Eavus turned.

“You speak Aleterian?” Finally. Someone who could help.

The thin man nodded, the quavering sword amplifying his distress.

The sword. Eavus’ heart stopped in his chest. He shoved the thin man out of the way and grabbed hold of the girl at the dead man’s feet, wrenching her up and spinning her to face him. She yelped, her eyes wide in fear, the sandals dangling from her hands, the hobnails neatly aligned. Eavus dropped to his knees and pushed up the dead man’s sleeve.

“What is it?” Revni asked, but Eavus couldn’t hear beyond the rush in his ears. “What is it?” Revni repeated, but his mouth had gone too dry to speak.

A.C.S.P.

Eavus had killed a soldier.

THIRTY-ONE

“I don’t understand.” Revni wanted to help, but Eavus was so worked up she wondered if staying out of his way was better.

“He had no house name, you understand?” He backed out of the shed and swung his kit pole to his shoulder. She ducked to avoid getting thwacked. “You.” He spoke Aleterian, catching up to the man with the sword. They argued. The man gestured, pointing down the road, and then into the trees. Eavus cursed, and took off at a jog. Revni hurried to follow.