For the entire hour it took the party to slither across the field and reach the patchy brush closer to the mouth of the canyon, Androkles’ mind raced to try and get things into some sort of sensible order. If Pepper really could sneak everyone right through a line of soldiers, then did that mean they could sneak the whole way back to Dikaia?

And what could the demons possibly want? Dyana and Pepper wouldn’t say, although they both seemed eager to have him agree to whatever it was and promise not to kill anyone before at least talking to them. Pepper at least should know that Androkles always talked first, if the enemy wanted to talk. This would be no different. Did they want his money? They weren’t getting any.

Pepper kept calling them the Night People, and Androkles supposed that made sense. Their skin was night-colored. His Laophileans originally believed they were captive spirits, murderous ones, which is why they called them demons. And frankly, it was easier to believe they were malicious spirits captured by a spell than to think they might be sane and reasonable people, considering all the ones he’d met before little Seff. And all the ones after him. Except, now that he thought about it, the one from the field of stones who had a child under a rock.

Despite the muddy terrain, littered with rocks and brush, they made good time until Flower’s skinny little legs finally gave out. Pepper assumed the worst and panicked until he could be convinced that his brother was not dying, just very tired. But with Flower back up on the horse and asleep, Androkles felt like things were moving faster than he could make plans for.

The King’s army was gathering a scarce two miles from them now, forming protective circular ranks around the mouth of the pass. For a good distance on either side of the canyon, the mountainside was rocky and bare for at least the first two hundred paces. It would be painfully slow terrain in full visibility. No way to hide and no way to hurry.

Each step brought them closer to the King and his armies and only Flower was immune to the growing dread because he was asleep. Androkles could see it in how Pepper jerked at every little sound; how Garbi stood straight as a board, arms folded, brow furrowed in concentration; how Agurne swung her arms like she wanted to hit something as she walked. Even Wolfscar was making a pose like an alert hound, on hands and knees on Garbi’s hair. His wings vibrated in a low, tense hum, his little body rigid and ready to spring at the first sign of danger. As if there was anything he’d be able to do about any danger. But they all kept on, chins up and eyes forward.

Pepper found a little dip in the earth near a wall of spiny bushes and ducked down into it, waving for everyone to join him. He kept nervously rubbing his hands on his shirt, his soft black tail moving jerkily behind him to betray his unsettled thoughts.

He said, “Okay, well, I haven’t ever really tried this with so many people, so I’m not sure, if, um, I think I can do it but everyone is going to have to help, because—” Pepper’s mouth went dry and he briefly lost the ability to speak.

“Pepper,” said Dyana, leaning into his field of vision to get his attention, “would it help if I carried Flower, and Garbi me up and over on her deer? You don’t have to sneak all of us.”

The look of relief Pepper gave her in return bordered on adoration. “Yeah, I wasn’t… I wasn’t planning on doing it this way, so I’m not sure if…”

“You just have to sneak Androkles and Agurne past the army. I can take care of the others. Does that sound all right?”

Pepper almost laughed, he was so relieved. His voice crackled with it. He exhaled sharply and said, “I was thinking I’d have to hide everyone, and also Garbi’s deer, and that wolf, and that horse, and I was really nervous!”

No one laughed along with him, although he did get several sympathy smiles. A particularly convincing one from Agurne, in fact. The woman certainly had her skills.

Androkles asked, “So what’s the plan, exactly?”

Dyana answered. “I’ll carry Flower on foot, and Garbi can ride behind me. We’ll just go straight up the mountain. They’ll never catch us. They won’t even try. Garbi, can that deer run pretty fast? He can, right?”

“His name is Poppy, and he is faster than a horse.” Androkles heard a hint of challenge in her voice, or perhaps distrust. Good girl.

Dyana nodded and said, “Good. Once we get back to the Night People, we’ll be safe for a while, and we can wait for Pepper to sneak the others up the pass. Sheth is excited to see you, Garbi. Wolfscar has been telling him all sorts of crazy stories about you. The deer, and the wolf, and something about an eagle. And a few things about Flower I’m not sure I believe.”

Wolfscar looked like he had something to say about that, but Androkles didn’t want to get him started. He held up his hand and said, “So you’re going to take my daughter and my other son and just run straight up a mountainside to a nest of demons. Little Pepper here will be sneaking the tallest man in the Glories and his grumpy woman through the middle of a barbarian army led by a sorcerer King. Once we’re all back together there will be singing and honey cakes. Is that correct?”

She reddened a bit and couldn’t meet his gaze. “Yes, Master Androkles, that’s correct. That’s the plan.”

For a moment, no one said anything. It sounded ridiculous, but frankly, Androkles couldn’t decide if it was a good plan or a bad one.

Pepper quietly said, “Well, can’t we just go up the mountain right behind you? Why do we need to try and go through the camp?”

“That… is a much better idea,” said Dyana. “Go up behind us instead of risking the whole army. Just walk up and take your time. Like I said, Garbi and I won’t look like much of a target. They’re looking for you, not us. And I can run faster than you’d believe, even carrying Flower. We’ll be over the mountain before they can even get close.”

“Fine. Suppose we do that. I’m still not excited about having my little girl sitting amongst a bunch of demons, looking tasty,” said Androkles.

“They would never dare hurt her. I’ll keep her in arm’s reach, and they owe me their lives and know better. But more importantly, they belong to Palthos now. He appeared in person and claimed them for his own, and told them to seek Agurne, his priestess. They will treat Garbi well.”

When he didn’t look quite convinced, she added, “They have a lot more in common with Sheth than with the berserkers you’re familiar with.”

“Who’s Sheth?” he asked.

“Seffy. Turns out his name was Sheth the whole time, and he just couldn’t pronounce it,” said Dyana, her face lighting up with a small smile.

He supposed that was droll, but not enough to break his misgivings about all this. Dyana’s good humor quickly wilted under his scowl and she looked down at the ground.

She seemed different from the young woman he remembered. The Dyana from before had been challenging and haughty and brash and spoke like she was too full of herself, like her only role model was a man and she’d never really understood how men worked. She’d had genuine affection for her found rat, and some for his children, but anyone would. He’d helped her, despite his distrust of Seff, and she’d turned away with some insults right before she could have helped.

The woman he saw now, however, seemed ten years younger than before. Younger and more honest. It felt like she’d found a deeper kind of strength, like she was able be herself and face the consequences of her choices with honesty. That didn’t mean he trusted her more, but he could see she had changed.

She looked up at him, head still slightly bowed, and said, “Master Androkles, I know what I did before was wrong, and I know how hard it must be to trust me. But I’ve… had a lot of time to think, and I’ve had to face some really hard things, and… I see how much it hurt everyone that I left when I did. I regret what I said. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I just hope you’ll give me another chance. I really do want to protect them.”

He scowled and looked away. He had not been expecting that, and he knew whose side everyone else in the family would be on. Not his. He said, “Well, I still don’t like it. I don’t want to split up the family again and I don’t want to meet the Night People.”

Agurne grinned and got moving, patting the children and checking the bags and whatnot. She said, “Once he starts talking like that, he’s already decided to go along with it. Garbi, my precious darling, you follow Dyana. Make sure Poppy follows her very closely so you don’t get lost or split up. Papa and I will be coming right behind, but you follow Dyana and she’ll keep you safe if something happens. We are going to trust her now.”

“Yes, Mama,” said Garbi. She was getting an eager glint in her eye.

“I did not decide already,” complained Androkles.

“Oh? Then, are you going to add lying to your giant list of faults? Didn’t quite have the whole scroll filled?” said Agurne. She knew him too well.

Androkles just scowled at her and put the sack of money on Poppy’s back for Garbi to keep hold of. He had no desire to lug it up a mountainside.

Agurne draped Flower across Dyana’s back. She gently woke him by stroking his ears and quietly calling his name. He blinked over and over, only half-awake.

“My darling, hold tight. Dyana’s going to run now. Don’t fall off,” she said. “And don’t scream. You’ll deafen her. Don’t scream, my precious love. Hold it in.”

“What?” asked Flower, perking up a bit with a look of concern.

Agurne slapped Dyana’s rump and said, “Go.”

Dyana grinned sheepishly and nodded.

“Wait!” said Flower.

Dyana leaped into a full sprint, farther and faster than even Poppy could match.

Flower’s sudden, terrified scream was short; just a chirp, really. It was the funniest thing Androkles had seen in ages. He had to stifle his laughter, though, because laughing hurt, and he wasn’t quite done being grumpy. Agurne had done it on purpose. Gods bless that woman.

Dyana had been right about her speed. Poppy bounced his way heroically up the mountainside, but had no chance to keep up, not in the slightest. Dyana had to slow down to keep from losing Garbi entirely. Serves the stupid beast right, being outrun.

The army spotted the girls nearly immediately, since they were racing up mostly bare ground in full view of everyone. Soldiers pointed and sent messengers and must have been considering whether to try and go after them. Androkles and the others fell into an uneasy silence as they watched, their attention split between Dyana’s course up the mountain and the gathering army, but no riders broke away for a chase.

It only took moments before it would have been too late, though. At the speed Dyana and Garbi were moving, they would never be caught. Soon enough, the girls stopped briefly on the ridgeline, looked back down for just a moment, and disappeared on the other side.

The easy escape led to only temporary relief. Now it was Pepper’s turn, and he was a nervous, fidgety little boy doing his best to hide his lack of confidence. And for all Androkles knew, Pepper was right to be nervous. Perhaps it was astonishingly difficult—Androkles had no idea how it worked.

“Okay, so…” he started, then lost his voice. He flattened his black ears to get as serious as possible. “Okay. I have to say all this now, because I can’t after we go. What happens is, I… I pull in our, um, our presence. And it hides us from their minds, but not their actual eyes. Their eyes can see us, but they won’t realize they’re looking at anything. It’s the mind that knows things, not the body. So the, I guess it’s a kind of light, maybe, or something like that, but I pull it all in, and then it can’t touch their minds and they don’t see us. But sometimes if they know we’re there--really, really know--then they’ll see us anyway because their eyes still see us.

“So, we have to walk holding hands the whole time, and you can’t let go no matter what. Got it? And, so, they probably won’t come because they won’t see us. But if they do, because, um, because maybe they wanted to come find Dyana and Garbi or something, they still won’t find us. But if they’re close, you can’t make any noise. Don’t cough or anything. And don’t look right at anyone, even if they come right up to you. If I stop moving, you have to, too, right away. Got it? Oh, and both of you can’t have any, um, you can’t do your emotions or your evil. You have to keep it in or they’ll see us right away. Not even a tiny bit. None at all.”

Although Pepper’s explanation raised more questions than answers, the instructions were simple enough. Androkles took Pepper’s hand without any hesitation, hoping to encourage him. “Come on, Agurne, don’t dawdle.”

She took Pepper’s other hand and said, “No moaning about your ribs, ogre. Pepper said to be quiet.”

They rose as one from the little ditch and began their walk. For the first hundred paces, and the next hundred, Androkles wondered if he would be able to tell when Pepper did his little trick. And was it even really a trick, some kind of magic? Or was that just how he thought about it? He wasn’t simply sneaky, was he? Just good at avoiding attention? That better not be it.

They wound their way southward toward the mountain, across the rough ground and patchy snow, between thickets and over shoddy wooden fencing. They kept silent the entire time, leaving Androkles to get more and more curious about how it was all going to work, but nothing had happened. They were simply out of view, in the regular way.

But once they reached the empty ground where the mountain began, Pepper stopped. He looked around, his ears perking up as high as they could go to listen to the wind. Androkles and Agurne kept silent as ordered, but they shot each other a few questioning glances, which Pepper ignored.

Then he heard them: the whispers were returning. Just a handful, at the faintest edge of hearing. They were drawing closer, though; or at least it seemed they were getting louder.

Pepper gave a shudder of dismay that would probably been accompanied by a curse if he wasn’t keeping silent. He looked up at Androkles and Agurne and met their eyes with an expression Androkles couldn’t read. The boy bowed his head, and a moment later, the entire world changed.

Androkles sensed that something was different now, deeply so, but in a way too subtle to see clearly. It was nothing he could point at, nothing he could place. It simply felt like the world had retreated. His sight, hearing, touch, and smell were all the same as before. He heard Agurne breathing heavy from the rough terrain, felt Pepper’s warm little hand in his. But it felt like the world had retreated somehow. Like the first instant a dream begins to fade and detaches. Still there, but lesser. Separated.

The whispering around them rose like a cresting wave, growing from almost imperceptible to loud and immediate in only the space of a few heartbeats. The invisible shades swirled and raced, turning and speeding across the ground, spiraling out and back in. Hunting.

Pepper’s little form looked strained with effort already. He took a step, pulling his parents forward, and then they were walking. Each step was placed deliberately, with more care than a dancer and twice as gracefully. Androkles and Agurne had no hope to match it, and their steps ground and crunched loudly in their ears.

The shades followed them, but imperfectly. They whispered and keened, invisible voices in the sunlight. Every so often one came close enough it would have brushed against him, if it’d had form, but they never stayed near. Pepper must be hiding them from the shades as well, and they were really upset about it.

Pepper kept his pace, his head set with determination. His tail hovered just over the ground, not swishing at all or so much as brushing a leaf. The boy’s short legs slowed them down, but that was welcome. Androkles had a lot more to lift with each uphill step than the skinny little kit did, and he was feeling it. So was Agurne. He’d love to hear what she’d have to say about now if she was allowed to speak.

They were about a third of the way up or so before Androkles remembered to take a peek over at the army here to kill him. It was still growing around the mouth of the pass, about a mile and a half away across the open landscape.

Fifty horsemen had just broken away from the army and looked to be heading this way. They would know about the warband he’d destroyed by now. They must know, and these ones would be coming with severed heads. The terrain was bad for horses, but with so many it might not matter much. They’d circle up and come at him downhill, and…

Pepper’s little claws dug into his hand, or what would eventually be claws. For now, they were just slightly pointy fingertips and nails. Androkles looked down to see the kit scowling at him and he realized he’d been letting his emotions get away from him. He needed to be calm. Perfectly calm. A couple deep breaths soothed his rising tension and Pepper nodded.

If Pepper could keep them hidden, it wouldn’t matter how many soldiers came, or at least not immediately. Let five hundred come. If Androkles was hidden from one, he was hidden from five hundred. They wouldn’t spot him.

Actually, could Pepper get them all the way to the Glories? Doubtful. The boy wasn’t sure he could do the whole family at once, and he couldn’t keep it up night and day. Androkles would have to think of something. Later. He’d have to think of something later, and focus on feeling calm for now.

Upward they marched, Pepper stepping with effortless grace, each foot placed so perfectly it left no trail at all. Androkles did his best not to feel any ire about the deep footprints he left through all the mud and sand, since that would earn another scowl from Pepper. All the while, the shades continued to howl, invisible voices searching the whole mountainside in vain, unable to find them.

Agurne had less trouble than he’d expected. She looked onward with calm confidence, ruddy from exertion and cold but just fine otherwise. Pepper’s little boy legs seemed to match her stride better than Androkles’. She earned no glares from Pepper, which seemed unfair since women were supposed to be more emotionally incontinent than men.

They had made it roughly halfway up the mountain by the time the soldiers reached the bottom of their trail. Androkles glanced down the slope at the obvious line of footprints leading straight to him and wondered how stupid they’d have to be not to figure it out. Just ride to the end of the footprints and start swinging your swords until you hit something, fools. Simple.

Pepper dug his fingertips again and Androkles realized he was growing agitated again. Not even mad or frightened, or any discernable emotion. Just agitated. Heightened, perhaps. Agurne gave Androkles the faintest smirk, but it was enough. They both knew she was winning.

He kept his eyes forward and his heart calm and ignored it when the soldiers began to ride up the trail, single-file and slow-moving. The shades quieted somewhat in response, their sickly voices diminishing back down to the same conspiratorial whispering he was used to.

Pepper knew they were there somehow, even though he never looked back. The boy must have heard them, because he tugged Androkles’ hand and moved sideways onto a nearby boulder. From there, they did a lot of very careful hopping, moving only indirectly upward and slowing down considerably.

“Here, they went that way!” shouted a horseman only a dozen paces behind.

Don’t look, Pepper had said. Don’t look at them.

“I don’t see anyone,” said another. It sounded like they were getting off their horses.

“They’re hiding in these rocks. Bring your heads,” said one.

“I don’t need you to tell me, Lugurix,” said another.

“Smudge! Come out, smudge!” yelled a man with a deeper voice.

The metal of their armor clanked and scraped as they climbed up onto the rocks. They were moving slowly, cautiously, thinking they were close to their prey. They were right.

Don’t look. Pepper tugged urgently on his hand and they hopped to the next boulder, then stepped down and snuck to the next, then the next.

Androkles couldn’t help growing more alert, more ready. Pepper dug in his nails, and Androkles tried his hardest to relax, to let it go, but it was getting harder.

Pepper pulled them to a stop and not a heartbeat later a man with a javelin in each hand and a tall, winged helmet moved in front of the boulder they were standing on. He was inches from Androkles’ foot, completely unaware. Androkles did his best to watch from the corner of his eye, but he had to fight decades of practice and reflexes to do it. The muscles in his eye twitched, desperately eager to focus on a man he might need to kill.

He didn’t even dare breath. Pepper dug his nails in with desperate strength, bowing his head and flatting his ears in supreme focus. Androkles wanted to help, to comfort or assist the boy in some way, to step in and fix it, but that was an urge he had to swallow just like the others.

The man peered around the boulder, then stepped two more paces to look behind another one.

Androkles spared a glance at Agurne. She caught the motion out of the corner of her eye and looked at him. Her face was lined with fear she was fighting to remove, poor woman. He gave her a wink, which replied to with a mild scowl at and turned away. But she did look a little more relaxed. Just a little, unless he was imagining it.

Another soldier came up behind the first, this one with a long sword, then another with an axe and roundshield. He could hear them moving all around him, dozens of them. They said little, but he could sense their tension even without looking at them. They knew who they were hunting, and what would happen to the first man he got his hands on.

Pepper tugged Androkles forward into a small gap they left, and they crossed three paces of gravel and climbed up onto the next boulder, only feet away from the nearest man. How did he not hear them? At least all the footprints would get mixed up. They’d have no way to know if any were his.

The spirits had largely fallen silent, but the severed heads the men were wearing on ropes rattled and groaned faintly to accentuate the sounds of the search.

Down one boulder and onto the next, then in between two more, then up a steep bit of hard dirt, miraculously dry.

Androkles felt a jerk on his hand.

A man had just bumped into Agurne. In the sudden instant of confusion, his eyes met Androkles’. They came into focus. He’d been spotted.

Time itself froze. Androkles saw everything in an instant—the man’s road stubble, his round helmet, the shock in his shadowed eyes. Middle-aged and dirty, with a wide face. The man opened his mouth, but it was too late. Androkles’ spear was already moving, all on its own. The shout of alarm was stopped in his throat by the point of Androkles’ spear.

Androkles pulled the spear free and reality came back into focus. The soldier’s neck spurted out blood in time with his heartbeat. He pulled Pepper and Agurne away and got them moving while they listened to the man gurgle his last, unable to call out.

Pepper quickly took the lead again, moving with more haste this time. They’d hardly made it ten paces before the dying man was spotted by his fellows. Shouts erupted around them.

Androkles fought his natural reflexes with every ounce of focus; his body and mind wanted to prepare for a fight, but that would get him killed. He had to be as calm as fog on a lake, and it was excruciating.

“There’s no javelin!” shouted one man.

“He’s close! Find him!” shouted another.

“Look, his heads are still fine. How did this happen?” asked a third man, one who sounded remarkably young. The others fell quiet at that.

Androkles now wondered the same thing. How indeed? Why hadn’t his severed heads protected him?

“Sorcery. You heard what he did in the King’s Great Hall.”

“I see nothing and no one. What if this was a trap?”

“How could it be a trap? The trail was right where the King said, the same spot the demon stealer and that deer came up.”

“He has to be…”

The rest was too quiet for Androkles to make out. They were still not that far, but they were no longer speaking loudly and it was far enough.

The men continued speaking in hushed tones, and from the sound of it, more had stopped racing around and were converging to discuss. Likely all watching over their shoulders the whole time. They had thought themselves protected, and now they weren’t. It was worth discussing.

Were they going to turn back? What were they doing now? Androkles couldn’t take it anymore and tugged gently at Pepper’s hand and they stopped. He turned and looked, careful not to look too directly, and found about a third of them standing close together in council. They were less than thirty paces away, so close he could have thrown a rock and hit one. Most of the rest were farther down, still on their horses.

Androkles eyes were drawn to a large, squarish stone about twenty paces uphill from the men, one just like the others they’d been hopping over. It was about half his height and slightly rounded on the downhill side. It rested by itself at the bottom of a rockslide, right above a patch of grass, and he knew he couldn’t resist.

His surge of malicious glee almost revealed them; Pepper had such a hard time concealing it that he groaned quietly to himself. Agurne didn’t look up, likely trying not to add any pressure of her own to the poor boy. Androkles pushed his emotions away as fast as he could and calmed back down, but Pepper gave him a look of such strained desperation that he almost gave up on his idea.

But he had to try. It was probably stupid, but it would keep him up all night if he didn’t. Androkles pulled Pepper to lead them toward the boulder. At first the boy resisted, as did Agurne, each sending him confused or urgent looks. But after Androkles nodded at the boulder and the men a couple times, the two of them resigned themselves to his foolishness.

Getting to the boulder was blessedly easy, straight across instead of uphill. Once there, Androkles started having second thoughts. It truly was half his height and would be impossibly heavy. He might not even get it to budge, but why stop now? He carefully dug away as much of the rock and sand underneath the front as he could, then moved up behind it and, once he was confident he was hidden the normal way, let go of Pepper’s hand.

Androkles leaned toward the boulder, braced his hands near the top edge, dug in his feet, and pushed with all the strength his legs possessed.

The rock barely moved at first, causing him to strain harder and almost grunt with effort, but then it leaned forward, then a bit father, and suddenly it was away. Androkles’ hand darted for Pepper’s, and they watched as the boulder rolled and picked up speed.

Only one of the soldiers in its path got away in time. The others didn’t even slow it down. The sound of it made when it hit wasn’t loud, but the sensation of force and power was stunning. It crashed through them like Arkos Oathfather’s own fist swung from the heavens and the severed heads may as well have been daffodils for all the good they did.

Pepper gave him to time to gloat, though, and was anxiously tugging them to get moving again. Agurne had a shine of pleasure in her eye that he hadn’t seen in ages, and he smiled back at her, but Pepper insistently yanked them forward.

The three of them rushed diagonally upward, aiming for the cover of some scrubby, twisted little trees. Pepper’s grip squeezed more and more insistently, and the boy’s footsteps grew less sure as his desperation grew.

Androkles felt the exact moment Pepper’s grip on his trick slipped away, exposing them. Nothing about the world changed, nothing visible, but he felt the strange gap between him and everything else disappear.

He did not wait to be noticed. He picked up Pepper and tossed him over one shoulder, then handed Agurne his spear, picked her up, and tossed her over the other.

Androkles charged up the mountain like a bull. The howling shades quieted instantly to a whisper, so faint his pounding footsteps and harsh breathing drowned them out. Thirty paces farther, he heard men call out, no doubt because they saw him.

The strain of effort hit him harder and faster than he was expecting, but the rush of danger suppressed the blooming fire of pain in his broken ribs. The stitches in his arms strained and tore, but he ignored them.

He gave a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god made him half again the size of everyone else. This foolishness would have been impossible otherwise.

Androkles leaped upward from one rock to a jutting shelf four feet higher. The effort forced a scream from his throat, but he made it, and two paces later, his shout became a laugh. He laughed hard and loud in defiance of his straining lungs and the men below. Agurne joined him, the reckless absurdity more than she could take. She couldn’t keep it up for long, though, because each time his foot landed, it drove his shoulder into her stomach.

By the time he had gone another hundred paces, the fun had worn off. All that was left was watery muscles and waning determination. If they caught up to him now and pressed for a fight, he would be an easy kill. He’d better keep running, then.

Another hundred paces, and he was getting close. Even weighed down and running awkwardly carrying two big, useless sacks of meat, his legs were long and his strides were firm. Thank the gods for making this mountain short.

Fifty paces. The men downhill had begun riding up after him. He heard their shouts but dare not look back. They sounded all jumbled and chaotic; their horses had no hope of following his path. Too steep, too many rocks.

Forty paces. Androkles hit a cliff a foot taller than he was, with a narrow ledge at the top and a steep bank of sandy dirt behind it. He set Agurne down, pleased to see she’d kept a hold on his spear, then tossed Pepper up without a word. The boy squealed in surprise and flailed his way through the air, but he landed on his feet and quickly turned around. “Papa!” he cried.

Agurne shouted, “No, don’t you dare--!”

Androkles lifted her above his shoulder, put his hand under her ass, and heaved her up with all his might. She didn’t go quite as far forward as he expected and nearly fell back on him, but Pepper grabber her and pulled her in. She didn’t even drop the spear.

When he tried to climb after them, it took five full heartbeats to convince his arms to start pulling him upward. His whole body was enervated and his lungs couldn’t keep up with his need of air. He felt lightheaded, unbalanced. So many of the stitches had torn that blood dripped down and off his elbows in thirty tangled threads of red.

Androkles snarled and forced himself, and up he went. His arms felt like sacks of water, his fingers like loose sticks, but he pulled himself up, then found a foothold, and another, and soon he was up.

“Over there!” hissed Pepper, eyes wide and body tense. He scampered his way up the slope and over onto another jutting rock, nearly the size of a house. Androkles and Agurne followed with what haste they could manage; Agurne favored her stomach after all that rough treatment, and Androkles hoped he hadn’t damaged the poor woman.

Once they made it up onto Pepper’s rock, the boy grabbed both their hands and hid again. Calmness came much easier now, since Androkles was about ready to lay down, restfully close his eyes, and die. He peered over the edge and realized why Pepper had picked this spot—it stuck out far enough to hide them from the view of those below. They could just lean back a bit and stay out of sight.

The little pest only gave them a few moments to rest, though, before he tugged them onward again. Androkles scowled and tried not to pant so much, but Agurne stepped over and kicked him to get him moving faster. She still had that same shine in her eyes, her lips turned up in a slight grin of real amusement. He couldn’t blame her.

Oddly, although it felt like Pepper’s trick was working, the shades didn’t pick up their complaining howls again. Instead, they kept on with the same quiet whispering that had kept him company for days now.

They made it to the flattening curve of the mountaintop about the same time the horsemen reached that rock. Androkles turned to watch for a moment, eager to see their frustration at finding nobody there. The man who got there first, a squat, dark-haired fellow with a chain shirt, two axes, and three severed heads, pointed at the blood Androkles had dripped all over and yelled down, “He’s injured! Find him!”

Pepper tugged again, so onward they went. Androkles felt it in his knees now, aching slightly and unsure. He felt like he had to step carefully or the bones would slide apart.

A dozen paces into the shade of the pines, and it was far enough. The air was still up here, making it feel warmer than it was. Androkles let go of Pepper’s hand and said, “Give me a moment to catch my breath. Go see if they’re gonna follow us all the way up here. I bet they don’t.”

Pepper said, “Why wouldn’t they?” The boy still looked tense. Pulled taut, like a bowstring.

“I just bet they don’t. They probably didn’t expect to ride up this far in the first place.”

“Papa!” shouted Pepper. “They are going to come up here!” The poor kit was about to lose it. The strain on his little spirit must have been more than Androkles realized. “But I’ll go look. Get your spear ready, Papa,” the boy commanded.

The little boy turned and was gone, as if swallowed in a single bite by the shadows in the background. Gods, that was uncanny. Had he always been able to do that? He never had before, not when someone was looking right at him. Androkles focused, trying to spy him out, but could not. He knew the boy was there. He was right there. But no matter how he tried, his eyes refused to see what his mind already knew. Or was it the other way around? What had the boy said?

Agurne slapped his spear against his chest and said, “It’s a good thing you haven’t planted a baby in me yet, because after that run I would’ve lost it. I’m probably bleeding to death in there.”

“Any child of mine should be able to withstand it. We can’t have a weakling in the family.”

“I’m serious, Androkles. I feel like I’m going to shit blood,” she said calmly.

He glanced down at her, but she was smirking and was not, indeed, serious.

She said, “Uh oh, looks like you’d better get going.”

Pepper was visible again and waving frantically for someone to come over.

Androkles sighed. “Fine. Go hide over there. If something happens, I’ll have Pepper come get you.”

“I’m going to be laying dead on the ground when he gets there, ogre. I am dying.”

“Then we’ll have something to eat on the road,” he replied, and started walking. The rush of effort was starting to wear off, and he was becoming aware again just how much his ribs hurt. It felt loose and liquid in there, but burning. Like someone poured in molten iron and let it swish around. He tried not groan with each step.

Now was not the time to get complacent, though. He steeled himself and shook away his relaxation. Pepper closed the distance at a run and took Androkles’ hand just in time to hide them from a rider cresting the slope.

It was the same short, dark-haired man who had ridden ahead before. He held both axes at the ready and let the horse guide itself, walking slowly into unfamiliar territory. The man’s eyes were quick, careful, and mean. He expected an unpleasant surprise, and Androkles intended to give him one.

The rider passed no farther than five paces away, so close they could smell each other. The man flicked his foot and the horse stopped.

Pepper squeezed Androkles’ hand and looked up with urgent eyes while Androkles considered his options. Should he yank the severed heads off and toss them away? No, they were tied to the saddle this time, not simply hung over it like the ones before.

He’d killed a man with severed heads just a moment ago, so why not again? Pepper’s trick must work on them, too. That was the only explanation. Hadn’t Flower put them all to sleep in the King’s Great Hall? The severed heads might be just like living ones. They might still have the shades of the dead in them. The thought turned his stomach—it was one thing to carve up a living man in a war, and quite another to shame and mistreat the dead.

A sneak attack was worth a shot, and if it didn’t work, he’d pull him from his horse and shoo it far enough away for the heads to stop protecting him, and kill him then.

Androkles readied his spear and pulled Pepper forward. They stepped forward, just into range for a spear thrust.

He stabbed the soldier right in the throat. The man made no effort to protect himself or dodge, and it was the easiest blow Androkles had ever struck. The spear tip folded the flesh apart like still water and dug into the bones of the neck. Androkles swiped the spear out sideways, slicing open a huge gash.

They watched in surprise as the sudden, massive blood loss made the man slump forward. No resistance at all, no sound. Did a plan of his actually work as hoped for once?

Androkles grinned and glanced down to see Pepper looking relieved, if a bit queasy. Androkles let go of his hand and scratched the boy between his ears.

The dead man started sliding off the saddle, but Androkles caught him and carefully put him back on so he wouldn’t fall, then took the horse’s reins. Then, taking Pepper’s hand again, he led the horse back over to the slope.

Four more men were about to crest the slope. Androkles tugged the horse forward, then patted its rump to send it down toward them.

“Bimmos?” one of them called. “Bimmos, are you all right?”

The horse’s steps jolted the body a little, and it slumped further down.

“By Camulus, he’s bleeding! He’s bleeding all over! Help him!”

But before they could reach him, the dead man finally slid down from his horse and landed with a graceless thud, neck open the sky. The horse gleamed read as if painted from its neck down to its hoof.

“He’s dead! His throats cut!”

The four of them seemed shocked. They stopped for a moment, staring at the dead man. Then at the shriveled corpse heads still dangling peacefully from the saddle, then at each other. A moment later, they turned as one and rode back down the mountain, calling to their fellows as they went.

Androkles and Pepper watched for only a moment, just long enough to be convinced that the soldiers really were riding back down to go report to the King. With any luck, the barbarian bastard would think the heads had stopped working and would be at a loss about how to kill him now. What would he try next?

Oh, right. His two dozen demons. He’d send the demons, and probably come himself alongside his nastiest brutes to keep his prized killers in line. In fact, he might send a couple thousand cavalry just to wear Androkles out, and then send the demons.

“Papa, now what?” whispered Pepper.

“We can relax. They’re gone for now,” said Androkles.

“Will they be back?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” said Pepper. His ears twitched. “Well, if we’re not moving, I can just hide everyone until they leave.”

Androkles noticed Pepper was still holding his hand, although it didn’t feel like they were still hiding. Blood from his arm stitches was starting to drip into the boy’s sleeves, and that woolen shirt wasn’t in good condition to start with. But he supposed there were worse things, like months of separation and slavery. He gave a gentle squeeze. “So how are we supposed to find your demons?” he asked.

Pepper looked around a bit and said, “I don’t actually know. I think Wolfscar will find us. Or Dyana. I thought they’d be waiting here.”

“It looks like we’re done with all the violence?” said Agurne, coming out from her hiding spot not far away.

“Yes, Mama. They all rode back down,” said Pepper. He was tugging Androkles over so he could grab her hand as well.

“Good. Now come here, my darling,” she said, stomping over and throwing her arms around him. Once she had him, she gave him about twenty kisses, enough to make him start turning red. “I doubt Androkles knows how hard it was, sneaking up here like that. But I do. I know very well. No one else could have done it, you precious, lovely little man. Not so well, for so long.”

“Thanks. It was really hard,” said Pepper, his voice tender and unsteady.

Androkles squeezed his hand again, looking around for Wolfscar, or Dyana, or any indication which direction they should start walking. He waited while Agurne cooed over the boy a bit more, since he deserved it.

When she finally let the boy go, Androkles said, “Agurne, should I try planting a baby in you now, just to make sure you’re not injured? Make sure everything is okay in there?”

“You seem busy. I’ll find someone else to do it later,” she said.

He snorted in amusement. Then he saw Pepper’s look of confusion and found that even funnier. “Fine, let’s get moving, then.”

“Oh? Which direction, ogre?” said Agurne.

“It doesn’t matter. I just don’t want to be standing in the first place they’ll look if they come back.”

They started walking in a direction that was probably south, although the trees made it hard to tell exactly. Pepper was dragging his feet before too long and starting to look awfully droopy. Androkles considered putting the boy on his shoulders, but his ribs would resent it, so he decided to let the boy walk until his feet fell off and carry him then.

It didn’t take long for them to get found, fortunately. A young demon woman, barely more than a girl, approached at a quick pace carrying a small child. His chest immediately tightened as apprehension gripped him. She looked harmless, but one never knew. She had the same twilight-colored skin and silvery eyes, the same whip-like tail and long, sharp horns. Her clothing was worn tight and layered for warmth, though, like a reasonable person’s, not the rags her kind wore into battle.

Androkles stepped forward and gripped his spear, getting as ready as he could without actually pointing it at her.

She knelt and bowed as soon as she reached him, turning her head to point her horns in a slightly different direction. “Master Androkles,” she said. “Mistress Agurne.”

Well, so far so good, he supposed. Not exactly the greeting he was expecting.

Agurne said, “Oh, get up, girl. His people don’t kneel and neither do mine. Why did they send a girl with a baby to come get us? Did something happen?”

The young demoness hastened to get back up, stepping awkwardly as she did. “No, no, I…” She looked almost panic-stricken.

Pepper said, “Mama, be nice. That’s Etiya, and the little boy is Yetu. That’s the one Papa saved from under the rock. This is the mama that he helped.”

“Wait, what? The ogre saved a boy from a rock? Not Seff?” said Agurne. She wasn’t feigning her surprise.

“Yes, Mama, when he got us back from the slavers and saved Seff, he saw her trying to lift a rock, but she couldn’t, so he lifted it. Then she got her child and ran away. The Night People thought she was dead because it took her so long to get back.”

“Like how Dyana found Seff? Why didn’t I hear about this before?”

Androkles said, “I’m sure I mentioned it at some point. I meant to. But it isn’t important. Girl, are my son and daughter at your camp?”

“Yes, Master Androkles. They are safe and warm and when I left, they were just sitting down to wait for you,” said the young demoness. She couldn’t quite meet his gaze, but he got the sense she was more worried about offending him than feeling guilty about something.

That was probably why she was acting so nervous—she was sent out to make a good impression and didn’t know how. Not that he remembered her anyway, or could ever have recognized her. It was dark and she was the color of shadows. He would never have known if Pepper didn’t say anything.

Still, sending her was a clever move on their part, he had to admit. He would not have been happy to find an armed man, but a girl with a tiny child? One he’d already helped? He’d only just arrived and he was already being manipulated.

Agurne stepped over and pulled the little babe’s shoulder to get a better look at him, then made that face women make for puppies and small children. “Oh, look at him! Oh, what a sweet little thing! Can I hold him? Hand him over, Etiya. Let me see him. How old is he?”

She didn’t wait for permission before she lifted the boy from his mother’s arms, but the little one gave no complaint. Just a blank face, perhaps confused. Agurne let out a little of her love, warming the area slightly in that blanket of motherhood of hers.

The young demoness said, “He will be three in a few months.”

Agurne cuddled him and kissed his head. “What a perfect little darling. And how old are you?”

“I’m seventeen, Master Agurne.”

“Oh, so young? Dyana’s age? And already a child.”

“Yes, Master Agurne. We have to start as soon as we can bear them. There aren’t many of us left.”

“You must be so desperate, then. Poor thing,” said Agurne.

Androkles sighed. “I have eyes, woman, and I can see what you’re doing. Can we get moving?”

Agurne was gearing up for a sharp response, but he was right and they all knew it. The demoness spoke first and said, “I’m sorry, Master Androkles. I just thought… I just wanted you to see him and see that he’s okay. And I wanted to say thank you again. I will never forget this. I think about it every day. I know you couldn’t save them all then, but you saved mine.” Her voice caught, but she largely kept her composure.

Androkles found the situation deeply uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure just how friendly he wanted to get with these people. They had mistreated his son, and his arms were still dripping blood from the last ones he’d run into.

And to make it worse, memories that had been forgotten for months started creeping back in, memories of that field of fires and boulders, and of saving this one. He remembered the dread he felt, looking over the field after learning what it was. All the little ones still there under those rocks. It would have haunted him if he hadn’t been so busy with concerns of his own since then.

He said, “I see him and I see that he is well. I am pleased. Now lead us to my children.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry I’m so out of my mind, or I mean out of my wits. I’m making this worse. Sorry. I’m just so nervous. Those wounds look awful. What happened?”

“A couple of your kind tried to kill me. It would have gone better, but my ribs are broken and I was asleep. The first one, I killed with my bare hands. The second one, I learned my lesson and used my spear.”

“What? Merciful Calishek! Or, merciful Palthos, I guess, since we…” Her words were all a tumble, and she paused to try and collect them.

He tried not to scowl, since that would just make it worse. But he wanted to. He was losing his patience.

The demoness sobered up the more she thought about it. Finally she said, “I see. Pepper wasn’t wrong about you. Please, follow me, and let me know if I’m moving too fast for your injuries.”

“I’ll be fine,” he complained. Not that he’d admit it, but the pain in his ribs was bad enough to steal his breath and make him nauseous. He hoped he hadn’t cracked the bones a little farther with that run up the mountain, but it felt like he had. He certainly didn’t want to run again, and thank Diorthodon Path-clearer, Etiya’s ‘hurry’ was not the same as his.

It was not far to the demon camp, though, only a half mile or so. They must have come all the way through the forest and gotten right to the pass before they realized there was a whole army down there who’d love to kill them.

The camp was hasty and shabby, a chaotic mess of patchy fur tents and animals and carts. He’d seen enough nomads in the lands of the Rivermen to know the difference between a short-term and long-term vagrant camp, and this was clearly short-term. The tents were only half-constructed, the animals tied instead of penned in, everything too close together. Instead of finding a clearing, everything was jumbled in amongst the trees, which did help break up any smoke from all the low fires, and there were plenty of those around.

Harder to defend, though. For people worried about being attacked, this was ridiculous. They hadn’t been here long, but that was no excuse. They should know where and how to set up the first time, not settle in and fix it later. And since an attacker always had the advantage, not being able to find one’s way around meant that ten good men could have the effect of a hundred and wipe them out.

As they got closer, the demons noticed. Their eyes glinted silver and sparkled like snow in sunlight as they glanced at him, then quickly looked away. They must have instructions not to stare or swarm him. Another good move from whoever was in charge. Unless that was their way, of course. He had no way of knowing.

The first to emerge and greet them was little Seff, because of course it would be. The boy had one eye covered by a large bandage, and hopefully that didn’t mean he’d lost it along the way. The injury must have been nasty, though, poor thing. He still had on that poofy sheepskin tunic, but it was now complemented by a shirt and pants of leather and looked much warmer. “Hi, Master Andwokles,” he said, stopping shyly a few steps away. “Hi Pepper and Master Aguwne.”

Agurne held her arms out and Seff immediately leaped into her hug with a big, sharp-toothed grin. “Good boy, not making me wait! See, Pepper, this is how you should behave. Oh, you darling, I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Hello, Seff. You’ve gotten bigger. And you speak better,” said Androkles. He found himself smiling slightly, pleased to see the boy alive.

Pepper said, “His parents have been making him say all the sounds right so he’s gotten a lot better.”

“He has parents?” asked Androkles. Where had they been all that time? Oh well, he supposed he didn’t care, as long as they were taking care of him now. “I bet Dyana was disappointed. What happened to his eye?”

Pepper got a little sparkle in his eye and his mouth edged into a grin he was trying and failing to hide. “Sheth, show him. Show Papa your eye.”

Agurne let the little rodent go, and he took a couple steps back and paused. Seff looked at Agurne first, then Androkles, as if hoping to see their approval first. Deciding he got it, he reached up and lifted the bandage up over his little horn nubs. The skin beneath was perfectly healthy. No injury to be seen.

Androkles didn’t scowl, although he wanted to. They were trying to deceive him. Make the little ones look more injured than they were just to win his sympathy. In fact, it was really starting to rouse his ire. After how they treated his son, they were trying to improve their chances with lies and theatrics? Outrageous. These gods-cursed barbarian wretches would pay in blood for—

Seff opened his eye, and it glowed. Androkles was so surprised his thoughts stopped cold. The boy’s right eye glowed a bright, pale blue that darkened the pine shadows in contrast. Agurne gasped.

Pepper could no longer hide his amusement, which was probably good for Seff, who was looking awfully nervous about exposing his secret. “Are you surprised, Papa? Mama? He can see things no one else can, only except for Wolfscar.”

“Yes,” said Androkles.

“Yes, said Agurne.

Pepper put his arm around little Seff, who seemed a little more confident, even forcing a weak smile. “See, Sheth? I told you. That’s the closest I ever saw Papa to being afraid. That’s the closest he gets. Usually he just gets really mad.”

“I wasn’t scared, just surprised,” said Androkles, shock making way for more comfortable irritation.

“Yeah, I know. Like I said. The closest he gets,” said Pepper, mirth plain in his voice.

Seff asked, “Should I say the fings I can see?”

“No, that’ll take too long. Maybe later,” said Pepper.

“I have questions,” said Androkles flatly, “but for later. Let’s keep moving.”

Pepper nodded and took Seff’s hand, then followed a quiet Etiya further into the camp. After a few steps, Seff leaned over and whispered, “Is he mad at me?” It was not a very quiet whisper.

“No, he’s happy to see you. I can tell. Come on.”

Androkles was indeed pleased to see Seff again. But right now, he needed to find out what these people wanted, since he doubted they had anything to offer him. What Androkles wanted was not to be killed by an army of fifty thousand cavalry. Looking around, they were not likely to be much help in that regard. Not that escape looked possible anyway—the shades kept the King informed on Androkles’ location, the army was too close, and the scouts had a good chance of killing him, protected by their sorcerous heads.

In fact, if he were the King, his army would be racing up the pass at this very moment. He’d send scouts to find his prey, then reinforce them with javelin throwers to pin him down. He’d give instructions to prioritize the women and children as targets to keep his prey off-balance and struggling. A couple dozen sorcery-protected riders would charge first, and right behind them, the pack of demons. As many of the rest as could gather would surround the fight, and if his prey looked likely to survive, they’d shower the fight with as many javelins as they could throw, then rush in all at once to kill at all costs. Give no heed to the man in front of you. Just charge and kill.

But then again, who knew what the King thought? How did the King estimate Androkles’ strength, after the day’s conflicts?

Androkles must have been scowling again, because he noticed that the eyes glancing his way contained fear and apprehension now. And there were many, many more of them. The camp was laid out with all the care of a spilled sack of coins, and around every turn, inside or near every tent, beside every cart, tending every animal, were demons. Adults and children, men and women. Never quite in his path, but never so far they couldn’t get a good look at least once. They looked like hungry shadows hidden in piles of trash. Thorny shadows.

Androkles was expecting to sit around a campfire, ass in the mud, but instead they came to the only fully-assembled tent in the camp. About the size of a poor man’s house, it was a mess of old furs and skins, held together by ancient stitching that looked likely to split at any moment. A flap served as a door, and Etiya held it open for him to squeeze through. Warm air blew out to greet him, though, which was welcome.

He went in before Agurne, just in case he had to kill someone, but was pleased to find soft furs and cushions covering most of the floor. In the middle of the tent, a respectable brass brazier burned coals. Garbi and Flower sat snuggled together under a woolen blanket, which they held open to the heat. Wolfscar rested in Garbi’s shirt, his tiny glowing head poking out her neckline and looking as content as if he’d just had four bugs for dinner. Dyana sat next to Garbi, but apparently the blanket was too small for the three of them. They all looked content, as if they’d been there for an hour and eaten already, even though they hadn’t been that far ahead of him.

On the far side of the tent-flap sat an old demon, likely the Elder. He wore no shirt, his arms and chest thin with age, his black skin sagging and spotty. As soon as Androkles and Agurne were inside, he rose and walked over to gently take Androkles by the arm. He led him to a spot where plenty of cushions had been laid out for him, a big enough area for him to recline like a civilized man.

Agurne followed next, then Pepper and Seff. The young demoness with the little one stayed outside. Once the flap was closed, the man finally spoke.

His voice was weak, as befits a man his age, but his words were clear and firm. “Honored traveler, be welcome here. Please, rest and eat. Let me tend your wounds. I regret that I cannot bathe you, but I lack the water. I—”

“You’ve been to the Glories?” Androkles asked, surprised to encounter good manners. This had not been anywhere near the list of things he anticipated. Only in the Glories, in all the world, would a stranger be welcome without giving his name or business.

“I have never been so fortunate, and I doubt they’d be pleased to see me. But I am old and have learned much. Please, sit. Drink my wine and eat my bread, and I will clean and tend your arms.”

“You will not ask my name?”

The old man regarded him carefully with his ancient, watery, silver eyes. He said, “I will not. You are a man in need of succor and that is all I need to know.”

Good answer. Androkles sat carefully so he wouldn’t bleed all over the man’s property and eased himself onto a cushion with a gentle sigh of contentment. How long had it been since he’d sat on anything comfortable? Gotzone’s inn, late last autumn?

Agurne preferred to sit with Pepper, so she did, and pulled him in to lean against her. He snuggled against her so peacefully one might never know they’d been separated at all. Seeing them together reminded him how much he’d missed the boy, and how beautiful he was. They looked comfortable and safe and content, and all the troubles of the day seemed of little importance, at least for now. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

A young man came in with a pitcher of water and some cloth, and Androkles held his arms out while the Elder and his servant wiped the blood away. The old man then took a sharp little knife and remove the ruined stitches, then fixed the spots that needed fixing with a surprisingly skillful hand. The damage wasn’t as bad as it looked, it turned out, just bloody.

Once that was taken care of, they wrapped his arms with strips of clean linen cloth, two layers thick and patterned together to stay put. How they had so much good cloth to spare when everything else around looked the way it did, he could not imagine.

Androkles lay down carefully on his good side and settled in, pleased that the pain of his broken ribs finally let up a little. It had been a long day. No sooner was he comfortable than he was handed a drinking pot, plain but with a good shape. He took a sip of the wine.

“This is mixed,” he said in surprise.

“Of course,” replied the Elder. He handed around a basket of unleavened barley bread, then said, “I regret that I lack toppings for your bread. In our haste to travel, I have not had much time to prepare. Please do not take my lack of hospitality for lack of respect.”

“It is enough. I am content,” said Androkles. He took a bite of the bread and found it was prepared with salt and a little animal fat, neither of which he expected. Truly, a day of surprises.

Once everyone was taken care of, the host sat and shared in the meal as was proper. After he had taken a few bites and had a sip of wine, he said, “Master Androkles, would your children like to hear any stories? Or should we have a song instead?”

Agurne pushed her mouthful into her cheek and said, “I’m ready to hear a story that isn’t about an army.”

Androkles snorted his amusement. She was giving him one of those mischievous half-smiles with challenging eyes. He smirked and said, “As she says.”

Without needing to be told, a man came in, perhaps in his early twenties if Androkles looked closely. Seff whispered to Garbi and Flower, “That’s my Papa,” loud enough for everyone to hear.

The man gave his son a sly smile and launched right into a story about the ancient days of their tribe, something about a cunning woman who got three different men to steal treasures for her, then used them as a dowry to entice a prince.

Androkles knew he shouldn’t be so relaxed. Suppose the demons heard something they didn’t like and turned on him. Just look at Seff’s father--he had enough good sense to come in unarmed, but he still had horns and claws and a tail. He wasn’t dressed for a fight—no armor, no thick layers. The leather clothing he wore was well-cut and worn tight, but it was obviously getting old. It had numerous stains and stitches that no amount of brushing could clear away. They’d be better off raiding Allobrogians and wearing theirs. Unless the man was dressing shabby on purpose to leave the right impression?

Actually, now that he thought about it, when did their horns start growing in? When they grew hair on their purses? Did it hurt when the skin split open?

Also, when exactly did Skythander kits fill in the rest of the way with fur? His boys only had it on their ears and tail. It’d have to fill in eventually. Was it itchy at first, like for some men who grew beards after being clean-shaven for a time?

He realized a moment later that the worries had simply slipped right out of his head. He was being treated like an honorable man, in the proper manner, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. There was a tiny ache in his heart, something that yearned for his City and his people, and it was waking up and clinging to this as tightly as it could. What use would fretting do him, here and now?

The bread was gone before the story was over, and since Androkles had to keep sharing the wine with Agurne and the children, the pot soon ran dry as well. Even so, it had been quite a while since a meal had seemed so filling.

“Thank you, Kishpa,” said the old man. “Go and tell Jeg and Nemua to bring in some gifts for our guests.”

Androkles raised his eyebrows at that. How far was the old demon planning on taking this? A meal was one thing, and a bit of help, but their camp looked like a trash heap. What were they going to find that they could spare? An old basket?

Two women came in, one older and one younger. Their faces were calm, or perhaps dark and cloudy and still. He couldn’t read their expressions, and they moved with deliberate care and grace. They kept their thin, black tails slung over their shoulders like most of the adults, so he couldn’t judge their emotions from that either. But if the gifts were any good, he doubted they’d be happy about it.

“That’s my Mama,” whispered Seff, loudly, pointing at the younger one.

She suppressed a smile, mostly, and said, “For the boys, we have good Skythander knives. A boy can always use a knife, and these were made by their people.”

Androkles nearly sat up in surprise, and might have if it didn’t take so much effort. Skythander knives? She couldn’t mean—

But she did. Into Pepper’s and Flower’s waiting hands she laid knives and sheaths, plated with the finest gold work in the world. No one matched Laophileans in marble or bronze, but for gold, the Skythanders were the undisputed masters. They had a way of pressing the gold with their claws, was the rumor. It was close enough that Androkles could see the tiny figures carved all up and down the sheathes and the rich patterns on the handles. A man could spend an hour examining the details on proper Skythander gold and not see everything.

The boys were stunned, and Agurne more so. She knew what those were, and their value. She shot him a look that asked him to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to do? Refuse? Act shamefully and dishonorably, even out of pity?

Before he could collect his thoughts, the older one stepped over to Garbi. “Every young girl can use one of these,” she said. She gently placed a fist-sized metal disk, round and thick, in Garbi’s waiting hands. She held her hands over it for the briefest moment, looking at the young girl. Androkles wished he could see her face. Whatever the woman was hoping to see, she must have found it, because she caressed Garbi’s cheek gently and stepped away.

It was another priceless treasure. Androkles knew it at once, although it might take Garbi a minute to figure out how to open it. The top face, highlighted with silver, had a fine carving of Arkos Oathfather drinking wine and speaking with Abraxia Dreamweaver, his wife. Palthos was stealing a bolt of lightning from under his throne. Everyone knew the story.

“Wait,” said the old woman in a gentle, motherly voice. “Before you open it, let’s fix up your hair. Nemua, will you get a washrag and some more water? And a comb?”

Androkles hadn’t paid any attention to their hairstyles, which he supposed justified some of Garbi’s earlier complaints, but the demon women wore their long, black hair in one very intricate braid. He could only barely make out the details, even with the sunlight shining right on it through the little smoke-hole in the top of the tent.

“Mother, should we do hers like ours? Or does she have a style she likes?” the old one asked Agurne.

“Like yours,” said Garbi immediately.

Agurne smiled warmly and said, “We knew a woman once who ran a fine inn, and she used to do her up in lots of braids. The girl loved it. I’m usually too busy.”

Wolfscar climbed out of Garbi’s shirt and flew over to Androkles to get out of the way, and the woman began their work. They wiped her face clean, smoothed out her shirt. The two demon women braided Garbi’s hair with hands that had practiced it a million times, finishing quicker than he’d expected. Agurne took forever and when Gotzone had done it, she’d get to talking and forget what she was doing.

They stepped back to make sure everything was perfect, and satisfied that it was, the older one showed Garbi the clasp on her mirror.

The girl opened it and gasped. Her shocked smile turned immediately into tears. “A mirror! It’s so pretty!” she managed to squeak out. She leaped to her feet and gave the older demoness a desperate hug. “Thank you so much!”

The older demoness graciously hugged her back. She looked over at the elderly man and said, “I think she likes it.” Androkles saw a bit of wistful regret in her eyes, a hint of sadness in her voice. He could only imagine how painful it would be to give something like that away to a stranger. It had probably been given by or to someone dear, now dead.

Well, if there was a seven-year-old girl anywhere on earth who deserved one, it was Garbi.

After they had quieted back down, Androkles could wait no longer. He asked the old man, “Do you know what it means, to welcome a guest like this? What do you know about our ways?”

The Elder said, “I know only that this is how it is done. I have never entertained a Laophilean to tell me more.” His tone of voice was an invitation to explain. In all he did, the old man seemed the perfect host—sincere but not servile, welcoming but not condescending. A generous and honorable equal.

How was Androkles supposed to keep his guard up? No, he was defeated. Soundly. He said, “The reason we do not ask a guest his name or business, is Arkos Oathfather decreed that all the distressed and road-weary must be welcomed equally. If we knew a man’s name or his reason for travel, we would know who is rich and who is poor and treat the poor more… poorly.”

The mood in the room quickly changed from joy to anxious attention. The boys were still holding their knives on their open palms, afraid to close their fingers around them. They couldn’t take their eyes off their prizes, but their ears were perked up in his direction. The Elder inclined his head slightly to show he was listening. What Androkles was saying now was important, and everyone knew it.

He continued, “A welcome guest will be fed, bathed, tended, and all his needs met, before he gives his name or business. A man will go out of his way, even at expenses he cannot well afford, to help such a guest in whatever he is doing. New clothing. A guide to a place several miles away. Whatever it is.

“A man treated as a guest has his obligations as well. He is expected to think of his host as a true companion and return if called to offer aid. The two of them will send regular letters and share in all the good and bad of life. It is not uncommon for such a bond to last for generations, carried on by the household after the men themselves die. And if a man isn’t willing to do all this, he can sleep in an inn. We have plenty of those,” he said.

Everything was silent. Even Wolfscar covered his mouth with both hands. Androkles’ heart burned from remembering his people so strongly, his good and noble City and civilization. He longed for it, starving after getting just a taste here. Wistfully, he added, “My own father never told me who any of ours were. Things might have been different if he had.”

No one dared move, nor did they meet his gaze as he looked around the tent. The children looked at their gifts, but they weren’t seeing them. Dyana was rigid, her face a mask that only barely concealed the pressure she felt. She subtly took Seff’s hand and squeezed tightly. Of all the room, only Agurne had a relieved look on her face, because she’d already guessed the outcome. Of course she had, crows take her.

He supposed their anxiousness was reasonable. The fates of many hinged on this moment. So why wait any longer? He’d already decided.

“Good host, the gift you’ve given me is more valuable than you realize. All I’ve ever wanted is the honor and respect I am due. Your hospitality has reminded me of home. It reminds me of the bright and glorious civilization I left behind, and the things I came out here to win back: my name, my property, and perhaps a little glory. And how can I not be content when I see my family sitting there, warm and well-treated? Perhaps I value the sight more highly than I should, but I do. I value it highly, and I’ve spilled a lot of blood for it. A lot of blood.”

He grinned at his host and said, “Elder, I’m pretty sure all of this has been something like a negotiating tactic, based on what they all told you about me. Which one told you how much I like my honor? Was that Pepper? No, no, I bet it was Dyana. Pepper would’ve told you how fond I am of my children, and how much danger you’d be in if I showed up mad about how he was treated. And I bet someone told Wolfscar to keep his mouth shut or he’d give it away. How else would he go so long without speaking?”

The fairy’s eyes shot up to Androkles, but he kept both hands over his mouth. The Elder might have shifted nervously, but it was very slight, and he was old, and Androkles might have imagined it anyway. Agurne was just about beaming, sharing in his happiness; she knew him too well. His children had their eyebrows raised in anxious anticipation. Dyana was even more tense now, biting her lip. Seff looked like his hand was being squeezed hard enough it hurt.

He continued, “But in the end, I don’t really care if it was all a tactic. Just like I don’t care that Seff’s name is Sheth. He’s Seff to me. And to me, all of this had the proper form, and it was respectful and generous. It does me great honor, so how can I not return it? It feels like home, and that makes us friends. I am Androkles Giant-slayer, son of Paramonos of the Agapatheids. My city is Dikaia. That is Agurne, the woman I will make my wife as soon as I have a hearth to do it. She’s a Kelthuar and a priestess of the Orphan. You know the others.”

Androkles sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He immediately regretted it. How long was it going to take those crow-eaten ribs to heal? It hadn’t even been a quarter of a month yet, but nonetheless. “Now that we are friends, Elder, give me your name and tell me what your people want from me. Let us discuss how we can help each other.”