“Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us for a little while? We make a good team,” Cynic said the next morning.

“Thank you, but no. I prefer to ride alone.”

“Why?” Warrior rose from checking his gelding’s hooves, looking stiff. The kid still wasn’t used to sleeping in a rough camp under the stars, but he was putting in a good effort. “You didn’t get Cynic killed.”

“Let’s just say that my charming personality is best suffered in small doses,” Shade replied.

Cynic laughed; Warrior just shrugged. “I don’t think you’re that bad.”

“I have other things to do, and you have lessons to learn. Cynic will teach you well.” The part of Shade that had once been a man with social skills knew he should be touched by Warrior’s kindliness, but he just couldn’t.

Teaching Warrior was exhausting. He needed to get rid of him before Shade snapped and said something that broke the kid. Shade needed space, too.

And maybe he could finally take that god's forsaken bath.

“Ride well.” Cynic held out a hand.

He took it. “Never forget.”

Shade mounted Vic and rode away without looking back.

His first stop was Gunstrum’s, again. The hospitia was quiet when he walked into the dining room to find Gunstrum polishing the bar. Halfway into the afternoon was usually a lull before the dinner rush, which was exactly what Shade was hoping for.

“Is your hot water working?” Shade asked by way of greeting.

Gunstrum blinked. “Aye.”

“How much for an hour’s guaranteed privacy in your bath? I’ll require the key.”

“For you? Free.” Gunstrum smiled. “It’s empty now. Deon just cleaned it.”

Shade dug into his purse and pulled a silver denarius out by feel. He dropped it on the bar, meeting Gunstrum’s eyes when the barkeep opened his mouth to argue. It closed with an audible click.

“The key, if you please. A room, also.”

Even a single silver denarius was grossly overpaying for a private bath, a room, and as many meals as Shade could want. One denarius was worth a thousand sestertii, enough to buy two acres of decent land back when Evendar was owned by Evendarians.

But Shade always overpaid. Firstly, because he took money off dead Olorians who didn’t need it and gave it to Evendarians who did. Secondly, because people flush with money were less bribable, and thus less likely to betray him.

Not that he thought Gunstrum would betray him. But paranoia had kept him alive this long, and Shade liked breathing.

Gunstrum stared at the coin for a moment before pocketing it. One silver denarii would keep the hospitia running for weeks. “Room nine again, all right?”

“Perfect.”

Shade accepted both keys, nodded, and headed up the stairs. After a quick look around the room—paranoia, again—he dropped his saddlebags, cloak, and bedroll off. Grabbing clean clothes, he headed towards the bath, out behind the main building.

Gunstrum’s, like most private bathhouses, only had one bath. Fortunately, it was a hot one. Shade put down his sword in easy reach of the bath’s edge, then moved to the side and started divesting himself of the various throwing knives and daggers hidden in his boots, belt, and clothing. These he lined up neatly on the bench, checking their edges and noting which needed sharpening.

He could do that later.

Next, he peeled off his tunic, undertunic, belt, trousers, boots, and undergarments. All smelled ripe and needed washing; hopefully, he could get that done before he left. Night Riders couldn’t afford to carry too many sets of clothing, but damn, he missed the days when he could bathe and change regularly.

He snorted. Better to dwell on missing freedom or home. Either was as useful as mourning for clean clothes.

Finally, Shade slipped into the bath, closing his eyes and letting himself relax for the first time in too long. The hot water was good for sore muscles and old injuries, good at easing the stress knots out. Unfortunately, it was not good at quieting his mind.

He’d have a good meal tonight and start early. Then it was a hundred-mile ride to Polontis and a certain Olorian prince.

Today was the twenty-fifth of November. Even an easy ride would let him arrive by the twenty-eighth, the eighth anniversary of King Valhin II Noyce’s death. That conceited princeling had killed Evendar’s last king and boasted of it regularly.

Shade would make sure he paid for it.

***