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The Sculpae girl flexed her jaw, but didn’t protest, and Revni once again squared herself, then opened the tent and slipped out.

THIRTY-FIVE

Eavus stepped out of the tent only to stumble over a dead body. Two more shadowed lumps lay in the near distance, but the party by the bonfire was clearly going strong.

Eavus raised an eyebrow. Revni only shrugged. He could practically hear her in the movement: Not my fault they are too stupid to notice.

They stayed low, swiftly circling to the back of the tent. Revni gestured to the stars, then pointed her finger forward, one-two, like a code he should know. Eavus shook his head. Her shoulders dropped, but she gestured a clear Stay down and follow me, and so he did.

Eavus’ head still ached from earlier, and he couldn’t stop himself from wincing as he ran, those new gifts from the Sculpae’s spear points opening up. He felt like a bucket that had sprung leaks. Revni, too, was limping from the cuts the girl had given her ankles, but thankfully it didn’t look like they’d gone deep. If she had her boots, Eavus thought guiltily, she wouldn’t have gotten cut. Or maybe if she’d worn the greaves on her legs where they belonged. He almost snickered, following those flailing arms with shin guards attached. She was such an idiot. They made an awkward pair, him clutching the child while still holding the stolen knife, wincing at every jolt so he didn’t accidentally stab the kid. They shambled over rocks, Revni dancing her way to somewhere only she knew.

Behind them, the raucous chatter and laughter suddenly shifted. Revni picked up speed, and so did Eavus, as the noises turned to shouts. Eavus had never been more grateful for the moon, and more afraid of it. It was barely half-full, but so bright in the clear sky you could see a halo. The bronze helmet on Revni’s head lit up at every rise like it was midday, and he was sure his breastplate and red cape were the same. They were practically practice targets, a hunch confirmed by the first arrow that whizzed past, only missing him because he swerved right to better keep his balance. But he could see where Revni was headed, a path clear as day, as they crested the hill and started down it—a long snake of water at the bottom, rippling silver.

Another arrow sang off his right shoulder, just missing him again, and Eavus cursed, stumbling. He started to shout, “Serpentine!” but he couldn’t remember the word in Gerstunt and Revni had already had the thought, weaving wildly as she made her way forward, aiming for the pits and boulders that would provide even the smallest cover. Arrows followed, but they arced sloppily—shots fired from too far with no clear line of sight. Eavus took his own advice and zigged, skidding through scree that made his groin lurch in memory of falling down that damn crevasse. He barely caught himself from dropping the kid. The child moaned sleepily, which was worrisome itself—all this jostling and he hadn’t woken. The arrows paused briefly, and Eavus knew that only meant their pursuers had reached the low dip before the last rise. In only a minute they’d reach the peak—and then they’d have the high ground.

Eavus met up with Revni’s zag and they sprinted the last hundred feet of flattish ground towards the river. The natural basin echoed the plings of bowstrings, the zips and whips of arrows as they barely missed their marks.

“Gods, I miss a shield wall.” Before Eavus’ words were even out, Revni groaned with yearning.

“Gods, yes.”

There were no bushes or trees along this river, not like the ones farther south. This river cut through the low grass and rocks like an intruder slicing the mountains in two. But Revni shifted left, towards a pile of boulders, and started to tug.

“What are you doing?” Eavus had plashed forward already, ankle deep and ready to let the current hustle them away, before he realized she wasn’t with him.

“Help me!”

Eavus ducked and came back to her, just as an arrow nicked off her helmet. Revni froze only for a second, meeting his eyes and letting out a surprised laugh, before she tugged harder and the little boat came free, a thin slice of melon. Eavus immediately set the child in the center and pushed the boat towards the water, desperately hoping the weight of three wouldn’t sink it. They leaped in and crouched just in time, another series of arrows thunking a tattoo against the side. Most hit the wooden laths, but one poked its nose through the tarred canvas skin. Eavus slunk as low as he could, his back arched against the tiny wooden seat, Revni emerging only just enough to paddle wildly. She probably didn’t even need to. The river was fast and narrow, fed by the downward slope at their back, and they shot down the water as fast as the arrows following them, Revni steering them safely through a curve, and then another. Until finally, Eavus caught his breath enough to notice her calf sliding against his ankle as she adjusted. The rise and fall of her chest, the flex of her arms, pulled at some forbidden tether, especially when she turned her face to him. Her eyes were still shadowed by the lip of metal helmet, but they seemed to rove over his in a way that drowned out the river and the child, that flooded his brain and cleared it simultaneously. She let out an exhale that was half a laugh—relief and shock.

Eavus sagged briefly, tension still buzzing. This was what Revni did to him: made him two things at once. She turned him into something impossible. The realization gave him a sudden lightness, in the way of discovering a name of a thing or a pattern on a map. Something clear that hadn’t been before.

“Where, in Hirene’s name, did you find a boat?” He grinned as he sat up.

Revni gave a pleased smile. “Down the river. I found you first, but when they put up their camp, I knew we’d have to find some means of escape. Those Sculpae are fast. I didn’t think we could outrun them.” She turned the paddle, adjusting them in the current. “I went looking for the river, since you said it was a boundary. Maybe they would not cross it. And then I found the boat, and the quick water, and that seemed a good plan. I almost got you out earlier, but I think they saw me, so I had to wait.”

Eavus grinned again. “You were the bear.” Revni shot him a confused look, but no use explaining. The child moaned. Eavus put a hand to his forehead. He was hot.

“What do we do with him?”

“You are the one who took him.” But she didn’t sound angry. She handed Eavus the paddle and shifted to sit beside the child in the boat’s belly. He whimpered when she looked at his wounds.

What had possessed him to bring the kid along? It wasn’t the first time in his life some dying local had made a sad plea—what made him listen now?

“I would have left him,” Revni murmured, brushing a finger on the child’s cheek. For a moment Eavus wondered if he’d said his thoughts aloud.

Steering was harder than she made it look. The water pulled at muscles he didn’t know he had, and Eavus flung water over all three of them as he flipped the oar from side to side, trying to even them out, each jerk sending another flinch of pain to his cuts. By the time he got the hang of it, Revni had re-taken her seat and gestured to take the oar back.

“This river—Do we think it’s the Snake?”

It was impossible to tell. The river had slowed considerably as it widened, the shoreline beginning to fill in compared to the bare rocks of before. The clear sky was full of stars, but he didn’t know anything about them beyond legends of the gods.

“Are we headed east?”

Revni looked up, twisting her neck. “Do you see Nikeni? There—” She pointed, but Eavus wasn’t quite sure to what. She changed tacks. “Hold up your fist. Put a star on top of it.” Eavus did, as best he could. “Now, wait.”

The bobbing boat made it difficult to keep it steady. His arm started to ache, but he kept it outstretched. “What am I waiting for?”

“Which way did the star move?”