As I walked, something unpleasant began to happen in my legs. I had been ignoring the aching pains the glass shards in them were creating for some time, but for some reason, the sensation began to shift into something I couldn’t easily filter into background noise. At first, I thought it might have just been a result of seawater drying on my skin, but once both my thighs started to itch intensely enough that I couldn’t avoid scratching them I knew I needed to find a quiet spot and figure out what was going on. Ducking behind some crates, I pulled up my left pant leg to see red spots resembling boils forming on my skin. In the middle of each of them was a small hard point, the tip of a piece of glass that my body was trying to eject.

Why is it that I just can’t seem to stay clean lately? I wondered, looking at the pile of glass needles, blood, and pus on the ground a few minutes later. Even using force magic to handle the needles, I still got some of the liquids on my pants, and I didn’t have a cloth to wipe the remainder from myself so I had to resort to using my bare hands. Maybe I could condense water from the air, I thought, briefly attempting to flex the part of my mind that controlled magic before giving up. Instead, I found a small nearby puddle and washed my hands in it, then couched up blood and glass into them almost immediately. I almost would have preferred to be shot with a gun, I grumbled, looking around for another puddle of clean water.

Dhekpmz Mercantile’s office wasn’t exactly abuzz with activity when I arrived, but there were a few people milling about inside the lobby. Koyl hadn’t specified where we were supposed to meet up, so after briefly checking for him inside I found a secluded spot outside where I could watch the building. I didn’t know if I had to hide my face from the guards since there was no indication they were after me, so I just acted as though I was waiting for someone, which was exactly what I was doing. The guard presence was still pretty light in the business districts, and they seemed to be more concerned with accosting the poorer-looking residents than anything else.

Twenty minutes later, an incessant repeated hissing noise to my right finally drew my attention away from the road, and I saw Koyl peeking out of an alley, frantically gesturing at me to come over to him. I casually walked over to the alley, then ducked inside and allowed myself to be pulled behind a stack of crates.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for ten minutes,” Koyl hissed.

“Why are you hiding?” I asked. Koyl looked at me like I was stupid, then blinked a few times.

“Why aren’t you hiding?” he asked back. “You do know you have one of the most recognizable faces in this city, right? And what’s with that accent?” Oh, right, I thought, I should use my normal one.

“They aren’t looking for us, especially not you,” I answered, altering my accent back to normal. “They are looking for the ‘assassins’ that aided Vaozey, but they don’t have any descriptions of us up publicly. In fact, multiple guards have looked directly at me and done nothing, so I don’t even think they have a description of us.” Koyl frowned, then exhaled.

“We still need to get out of this city as soon as possible,” he said, eyes completely bloodshot. Did he stay up all night again? I wondered. “Thankfully, we might have a way to do that. There’s a small caravan from my hometown that was supposed to be here yesterday, but it didn’t arrive. Assuming it was just delayed, it should arrive today. I can’t imagine they’re going to stay long. We should get over to the east end.”

“How do you know?” I asked. And why didn't you know earlier? I thought. It wasn’t as though I distrusted Koyl, but the timing seemed extremely convenient.

“Because I spent all night trying to find a way out of here and paid well for this information,” Koyl snapped. After a moment of tension, he sighed and rubbed his eyes, relaxing. “It was coming for the aotkeylawtz. apparently it comes by every half year, sponsored by Kahvahrniydah’s temple to service the poor of Owsahlk. I’m telling you, unless it was destroyed by bandits or something, it’ll be here today or tomorrow. By the way, I’m out of money. I hope you kept some because I’m starving half to death.”

“What about the loot?” I asked. I hadn't been paying too much attention, but the bag of loot was gone when I left the torture room.

“Junk, had to trash it,” Koyl replied. “With the money I managed to buy a bit of znahdeyvtih, which is the only thing keeping me from losing my mind right now, and the information. That’s it.” One or both of those must have been very expensive, I thought.

“And you trust the source that told you about this?” I asked, my tone making the seriousness very clear.

“I can’t afford not to,” Koyl replied. “If it helps, the source was someone with a mark on their cheek, so I doubt they’re a Rehvite. Temples often organize outreach to the poor around these times, the aotkeylawtz and the zehvzmoyz, so it makes sense that they might send someone over here. It’s also not coming in through the main gates. That’s why we need to get to the east end, they’re coming in by way of the slums.” That’s where all the guards are going to be though, I sighed, if anyone does have our description, it’ll be someone over there.

“Fine, here,” I said, pulling out a random handful of coins and putting them in Koyl’s hands. “Get something on the way.”

Koyl wasted no time in buying food, eating skewers of meat and vegetables while we walked to the slums. As we approached, the streets became less lively, and the guard presence became thicker just as I had expected. When we finally caught sight of the slums, I heard Koyl inhale sharply. Instead of the rickety shacks that had been present the day before, there were merely smoldering piles of broken wood with people standing outside them. A few were digging through the rubble, but most looked in a daze, doing not much of anything while the guards kept watch over them.

Deeper inside, the area began to look like the remnants of a warzone. Bloodstains weren’t uncommon, and some dead bodies still lay in the streets, horribly burned or covered in sword wounds. Lines of slum dwellers walked, chained together, while guards led them to an unknown destination. Some children stood, crying silently, begging passersby with their eyes for help. I checked on Koyl, and saw him taking more znahdeyvtih. Silently, I wondered if he had enough of it to hold himself together until we could leave.

When we reached the east gate, Koyl sat down against the wall in a huff, shutting his eyes and holding a hand over his mouth. I watched as he breathed deeply and presumably tried not to vomit.

“What is the likelihood that they arrive today rather than tomorrow?” I asked, leaning against the wall beside him. There were few guards at the gate, oddly, though the ones who were present were armed with halberds and heavily armored.

“Don’t know,” Koyl gasped. “How can you stand it?”

“What?” I asked.

“The smell,” Koyl replied. Though I had been ignoring it, the air reeked of blood, rot, feces, smoke, and sweat. The smell of a battlefield, I thought, just like it was back on Earth, minus the gunpowder and chemical weapons.

“I’m used to it,” I replied. “Don’t vomit.”

“I know,” Koyl mumbled, “I don’t want to waste money either.” Despite his words, he gagged, then spat up a bit of food on the ground beside him. Twenty meters away, a guard looked over and laughed. “Tastes worse coming up,” Koyl groaned, swallowing hard.

“That’s because of the stomach acid mixed in,” I replied.

“Don’t tell me that,” Koyl winced, “it's going to make me… oh no-” Koyl doubled over, emptying his guts on the ground beside him loudly while I sighed and looked away. I should have gotten some food, I grumbled to myself, I was hoping that the slums would still have food carts, but I guess they burned those down too.

Two hours passed slowly. Koyl recovered from the smell, then got bored and showed me a simple game that could be played by drawing shapes in the dirt, insisting that I play against him. After being defeated several times, I introduced a logical training exercise I had once been subjected to in virtual training to him in return. The rules were simple, make a line through a grid in n-dimensional space by filling cells while an opponent tried to do the same, with no cell in the grid being able to be occupied by both players at once. I figured that starting with a size-four three-space cube would be simple enough for Koyl, but he didn’t seem to even grasp the three-dimensional structure.

“Listen, you need to visualize it as though each grid is a layer,” I explained. “This is a cube, but rendered on a flat plane by separating the layers.”

“I get what you’re trying to say,” Koyl protested, “I just don’t see how that is a line.” He pointed to my line from a corner of the top layer of the cube to the opposite corner of the bottom layer.

“It’s like this,” I said, quickly drawing out a more standard cube in the dirt, then drawing a dotted line that followed the same path. Koyl frowned, looking back and forth between the two drawings.

“I don’t see it,” he said.

“You would never have survived my training,” I scoffed. “Working with size-five four-space cubes was standard for this sort of thing. Size-seven five-space wasn’t unusual either.”

“What’s a four-space?” Koyl mocked back, laughing like he thought I was joking. Before I could embark on the futile task of explaining, a ruckus at the gate caught both of our attention. Voices, indistinct but clearly outside the city, talked back and forth for a little while before the gate began to open. A small caravan, made of two beasts, two wagons, four guards, and two wagon drivers lumbered inside. It was clear to see from the faces of the guards that they were shocked, but outside of the grunting of the pack beasts, nobody in the caravan said anything.

“That the caravan?” I asked.

“Looks like it,” Koyl replied. “We should follow along and see where they stop.”

“Why not approach now?” I asked.

“Look at them,” Koyl said. “They’re nervous, and anyone who comes up to them right now is going to be under scrutiny from the town guards. If we wait until they set down, we’ll make a better impression and attract less attention.” I considered Koyl’s words and found myself agreeing with them, so we left to follow the caravan.

The caravan set down in a small clearing near the north end of the slums, in what was probably once a marketplace of some kind. From the chatter I could hear, it sounded like the goods they were carrying were mostly textiles, cookware, children's toys, and spices that they had intended to trade for lower-than-average prices or barter in exchange for locally produced goods. I didn’t know what I had expected from a caravan sponsored by a temple, but it didn’t seem much different from any other trade group visually.

Of the surviving slum dwellers, none were interested or wealthy enough to deal with them, and the rest of the town’s population was largely avoiding the area. This clearly wasn’t the reaction they were expecting, and from their body language I could tell their moods were starting to sour. Maybe if nobody comes to buy their goods, they'll be reprimanded? I postulated, trying to figure out their reaction. Finally, one of the wagon drivers went to get a bag, then began distributing pay to their guards.

The two caravan guards wearing lighter armor walked away once they got their money leaving the two helmeted guards behind, and Koyl gestured to me that we should approach. The helmeted guards saw us coming and became more alert, but Koyl gestured to them and set them at ease. The apparent head of the caravan, a woman with long, straight hair wearing very similar clothes to the merchant I had killed in Suwlahtk, stepped out of the back of her wagon to meet us.

“Welcome, and sorry for the delay,” she said with a smile. “How can I help you today?”

“What kind of food do you have?” Koyl asked innocently.

“Preserved meat, mostly,” the merchant replied. “Not usually for sale since it's our supplies, but how much do you want? You look hungry.”

“Enough for a snack, at least,” Koyl smiled, holding out a ngoywngeyt to the merchant. Her smile dipped, but she took the coin and went into her wagon, emerging with a number of strips of smoked and salted jerky. My own stomach growled, and Koyl handed me a few pieces. “Sorry to not buy any of the real product,” Koyl apologized.

“It isn’t your fault,” the merchant replied, looking around at the ruins of the buildings. “Were you raided or something? I haven’t seen anything this bad since that settlement between Kahvahrniydah and Towrkah got destroyed by bandits years ago.”

“Shaavoysaatz?” Koyl asked.

“You know of it?” the merchant asked back, surprised.

“I was only fifteen when it happened,” Koyl said. “I remember my father telling me about it. Awful business, we lost some good people there. My family’s company had provided some of their guards.” Your family’s company? I wondered, trying to figure out just how much Koyl was lying.

“Oh, so you’re not from here?” the merchant asked. “I suppose you don’t look the type, but I wasn’t sure. Didn’t want to assume anything.”

“I’m from Kahvahrniydah,” Koyl replied. “My friend here is from, well, far away. We're heading to Kahvahrniydah, but we need a caravan in order to leave. We're hoping you'll take us.” The merchant’s face hardened into a frown, and she shook her head.

“We’re not looking to take on anyone at this time,” she replied diplomatically.

“I figured you would say that, but we’re willing to work for a very affordable rate, and I can assure you that our services are top-notch,” Koyl said, his tone becoming sweet and smooth. “Those two guards who left, they weren’t contracted for the return trip, were they?” The merchant’s brow furrowed, and her frown became suspicious.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Koyl sighed, displaying an exaggerated feeling of defeat with his body language.

“I don’t usually do this, but my family name is Zae’ey’yaob,” Koyl replied. Instantly, the merchant’s demeanor changed. Her mouth opened very slightly, and she took a step back, dropping her air of professionalism. So maybe he wasn’t lying about his family, I thought, or maybe he’s lying about his name, that’s possible as well.

“You’re really their runaway son?” she asked doubtfully. Koyl shrugged, and the merchant studied him for a few seconds, then grunted. “Let’s say I believe you because you’d need to be suicidal to lie about that, what about him?”

“Yuwniht Lihyveyz,” I replied, “from Yahn Gwah.” For a moment, I recalled the Gwahloab man I met in Pehrihnk, and felt strangely ridiculous. Maybe I should get a better backstory, I thought.

“Haven’t heard of you,” she replied.

“I can vouch for his effectiveness,” Koyl said, taking command of the conversation once again. “I assure you, this man is someone you would want on your side in a fight. I’ve personally seen him kill a bear, and he’s more than capable of matching three trained men on his own.” The merchant laughed, then looked at Koyl and raised her left eyebrow.

“You’re serious,” she stated, though her words implied a question.

“I can demonstrate if necessary,” I interjected. “It's no trouble, I'm confident I can meet your expectations.” Both of the guards looked at me, their faces betraying some nervousness.

“No, I think I can take the young Zae’ey’yaob’s word for it,” the merchant said, gesturing for me to relax. She slapped the side of the wagon that she hadn’t been driving, and another human emerged. This one was a brown-haired male with a beard, wearing a tighter uniform of some kind. The shirt was burgundy red, and the pants were pitch black. On the left breast of the shirt, I saw a familiar logo.

“Steelheart Company,” I said, and the driver looked at me. If this is going to be an issue, we might as well find out right now, I thought.

“You’ve heard of us,” the driver said with a hint of sarcasm.

“I have,” I replied. “Is Steelheart also providing these two?” I gestured to the two remaining guards.

“Nah, we’re freelance,” one of them said, revealing that she was a woman under the helmet.

“So you do take freelancers?” Koyl asked, letting just the right amount of hopefulness slip out into his voice.

“We take anybody the temple tells us to take,” the merchant replied gruffly. “They’re all about giving people a chance, cutting costs, you know, that sort of thing. I’m sure they wouldn’t have a problem with picking up two more strays. Let’s say I take you, how much do you want?”

“I was thinking that tw-” Koyl began.

“We’ll do it for free, so long as you feed us and give us a place to stay until you leave,” I interrupted. The merchant and Koyl both looked at me at the same time, with identical expressions of shock.

“W-what he means is, we can work out the payment later,” Koyl said gently. “We just really want to get out of this city.” Once again the merchant assessed us, trying to figure out what to think.

“When were you wanting to leave?” she asked.

“As soon as possible,” I replied, and Koyl gestured to indicate that he agreed.

“We were planning on leaving in five days, but…” the merchant trailed off, looking around. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

“I can,” Koyl smiled grimly, “and once I do, you’ll want to leave as soon as possible too.”