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“Get us out of here.” Eavus switched to Gerstunt and tossed the oar at her.

He leaped over the edge of the boat just as the irginor reached out, and slammed his fist into the man’s face. Eavus’ knuckles exploded in pain, the relief of the cool water instantaneous, before a crack to his own jaw sent him reeling. He rammed a sharp knee upwards, but the move slipped his feet out from under him. Water flooded his lungs and he came up gasping, then choking again as strong arms tackled him and more river filled his lungs. He flailed, hooking a foot behind a knee and taking the man under. Eavus gulped in air, both of them foundering as the riverbed dropped. The other soldier was wading in clumsily, horror on his face. Eavus bobbed, water to his neck, then scrambled, finding purchase, and drove his elbow into the irginor’s throat. He backed off, hacking, and Eavus jumped, bearing his full weight on the officer’s shoulders to hold him beneath the water, the whole river dripping into his own ears. Why wouldn’t he just stay down?

The officer scrabbled, and Eavus let him up only to smash his fist into his face again.

“Sir! Sir!” Legionary Bladder was trying to haul the officer up, or off, and Eavus pushed the damn water out of his eyes.

“Eavus!” Revni had come about. He reached for Revni’s outstretched hand, launched himself over the lip, and collapsed in a wet heap. He couldn’t see straight. It wasn’t the knock to his head—or maybe it was—but he felt dizzy, like everything was blinking lights. A hand flew to his belt—but it was still there. The thin, worn transit leather, burned with atramentum. The cylinder with the precious message. Eavus caught his breath, his heart pounding. There was a steady pulse of quiet grunts that he couldn’t place, until he put together it was Revni, paddling hard. He heaved himself onto the flat, wooden seat. Everything ached. He’d been poked by a spear only half a day before, he reminded himself, not to mention dragged over mountains, shot at, rowed this damn boat for hours on no sleep…

“There’ll be a price on your head, soldier!” Eavus twisted. The officer was still standing in the river, fists clenched, like a rock the tide would part around. “And hers!”

He disappeared as the river took a curve. Revni pulled the oar like she was born to it. Which she was, of course. Gods, Eavus really was an idiot. The child had tucked himself into the bow, or maybe Revni had shoved him there, but he peered around her knees. The side of his face was fully purple. Eavus twisted again. They’d gone far, fast. They weren’t going to be followed. If the two Aleterians had had a boat, they wouldn’t have been looking for a crossing. Revni’s breathing was growing ragged.

“Let me.”

She ignored him for a few more pulls, but finally relented and passed the oar back, panting and flushed.

Eavus didn’t have the energy or, frankly, the clear-headedness right now to do anything more than limply keep them going. Revni dipped a hand in the water, scrubbed her face and the back of her neck. What had he done? Fear and horror pulsed through him. He’d disobeyed a direct order. He’d defied a commander. He’d punched him. He still couldn’t figure out where the courage for that had come from, or the stupidity. He had simply acted, without thinking, and that kind of thing was exactly how men got killed.

Revni cupped her hands and drank, then hefted the baby up, turning to sit facing Eavus and pulling the kid into her lap. The boat pitched wildly, and Eavus was almost grateful for the snap to his focus. He steadied them out, then watched, numb, as Revni casually spit a piece of chewed up jerky into her hand.

“You did the right thing.”

Eavus had a shudder of something between disgust and admiration. Had she been holding that in her cheek this whole time? She forced the softened meat in between the child’s lips. The kid moved his jaw painfully, trying to swallow. Eavus wouldn’t have thought of feeding him like that. He wondered if he would have thought of feeding him at all if Revni hadn’t started on it.

“What happens when we get him safe?”

Revni looked up. “We keep going.”

Gods, how could she be so calm? His whole life had turned upside down, and the chance at saving any semblance of it was so thin it could snap at the smallest press of a thumb—but this had been her life since she’d arrived. Parents dead, clan gone, enslaved, marched up and down this whole island, and all for what? On the off chance that someone, somewhere, might take her in? How could she stand it? How had she not broken into a thousand pieces, murdered everyone in sight, begged for help at every turn?

“I’m grateful for you.” The words slipped out. But they weren’t false. “I couldn’t have made it to Norbucum without you.”

Revni quirked that half-grin, even as she spit another morsel of food into her palm.

“You’re not in Norbucum yet.”

THIRTY-SIX

For a brief, honeyed moment, Revni didn’t know where she was. She was in a cocoon of warmth, her arms wrapped around something soft and precious, the solid weight on her back drawing her into the fold. There was a pillow under her cheekbone. The smell that filled her nose was familiar—heavy spice and old tea—and somewhere in the back of her brain she knew that she hadn’t always found it pleasant but now she did. It made her feel safe. It made her wish that waking would never happen. Don’t. The curtain of sleep drew away, like the exit of a ghost. Don’t.

But then clarity came with a start. They must have both fallen asleep. That was foolish, dangerous. Revni sat up, her back aching, but Eavus’ lolled arm only slid off of her. Her head had been on his knee. The child was tucked between them. The infant was sweaty and mumbling.

Sykhiti. Or close enough.

“Eavus.” She shook him. “Eavus.”

He sat up so quickly she held the sides of the boat to stop it turning over.

“Sir!”

“We both fell asleep.” They had found a shaded cove, intending to take shifts sleeping, but now the sun was high in the sky, the boat bumping into the low bank. Eavus blinked, regaining his own bearings.

Revni gave a quick prayer of thanks they hadn’t been found and pushed off. She didn’t know whether the gods were looking after them or not. If she was looking for a sign that Isfolj gods were watching, “escape by boat” seemed so clear as to be almost laughable. But now she was going in a circle, back to the same monastery where it had all started. She didn’t know if that meant something.

Rowing pulled the ache of her muscles from their awkward sleep, but her body also carried the memory of it in a way that felt dangerous to probe. She couldn’t help but glance at Eavus. Again, that circle: his stubble and purple bruises, just like before, only this time his eyes were open, and when he looked at her that steady bird that lived in her chest became a reckless fluttering of wings.

The river slowed as it widened, and as the day waned, eventually turned to such shallow muck that they realized they had gone as far as they could. Revni was glad for the late summer sun. It hadn’t even started to set yet. They abandoned the boat to the marshes, and took turns carrying the sleeping boy. Sleeping felt a nice way to put it. He’d been going in and out of consciousness since they’d rescued him, waking only to cry from hunger, his bruised jaw fully black and those spider webs crawling higher up his face. The bone was almost definitely broken. The delta smelled like rot, like sour eggs. Revni tromped towards drier ground as best she could, but more than once slipped knee-deep in what she could only describe as slime. Her arms had given out from cradling the boy and she’d eventually had to shift him over her shoulder, the way she’d carry a body from a fire. She had done nothing but travel for weeks now, but these last measures burned in her lungs and in her legs.