The market wasn’t nearly as empty as she thought it would be. It was bustling with merchants readying their wares for the day, yelling across aisles at each other in good or sour humor, as was their wont; it was dizzying, the rate at which baskets and barrels and poles and tents were being carted around and set up. Lukios guided her around with ease, as though the chaos was no trouble to navigate at all. It was likely that his Heliopolis, being much bigger, was worse.

“Careful. Ground’s uneven here and there’s…well, the animals do make a mess.” He was right, they did. Ba’an stepped carefully, not wanting to soil her sandals. Cities were truly filthy places, if Kyros was anything to go by.

It was unfortunate, but the taverna up the street had not been open; it was simply too early.

“Wait, let’s go that way first. We can pick up a snack." Lukios pointed up the street. There was only one greater agora, but the city had smaller squares set up in convenient or busy locations. "It’s no fun shopping when you’re hungry, right?” He was correct, of course. It was too early to find a proper food stall, but Lukios managed to find a stand selling fruit, as well as a bakery that had some bread. Lukios bought her something called a cheese bun, which, predictably, was stuffed with warm, melted cheese. Ba’an liked it, to the point that she had to force herself to keep from licking her fingers. After that she had an apple, which was delightfully juicy and crisp. Lukios watched her eat with more happiness than warranted and handed her his own portion when she was done.

“Do not be foolish, Lukios. I am well. Eat your breakfast.”

“You sure? I mean, I’ll be okay until we get back and have real breakfast. I don’t get as hungry as you, remember?”

“I am well. Eat.” He obeyed as they continued on.

“If you say so, Ba’an. But remind me to stop by that bakery again before we leave. I’ll get you another bun or two.”

“We will be having breakfast once we leave, Lukios.”

“Still. Ah, here’s an idea. I’ll pick some up some sweetmeats for the household while we’re there.”

“If you wish.” Ba’an dodged a cart, which she had not thought permitted in the streets.

“Careful. I think they’re not actually allowed on the thoroughfare after sunrise, and it’s not quite sunrise yet. They’re going to be in a rush to get it all done quick. You’ve got to be vigilant. It’s not like Heliopolis here—they’ve got dedicated lanes.”

“How big is Heliopolis?”

“How big? That’s…hm. Well, you could probably fit Kyros in there…I dunno, twenty times, maybe?” He scratched his head. "Might be a bit bigger than that, 'specially if you count West Heliopolis."

“Twenty times? That is…” Ba’an had trouble wrapping her mind around it. How big was that? And what was 'West Heliopolis'? Was the city so sprawling they had to split it into two?

“Yeah, I think the last census there was um…maybe about a million people?”

She could not imagine it. He looked into her face and smiled. “Shocking, right? Suffice to say, you can’t walk across the city in one day. Some people actually travel by horse to get to one end from another. The previous emperor actually bought up buildings by the main roads and demolished them to expand the road system. People were getting trampled and there were times when no one could get anywhere. It was madness. Anyway, even if you don’t own a horse you can hire a charioteer to take you places, or a litter. There’s little stations all around the markets.”

“Is Kyros a small city? Or is Heliopolis very big?”

“Kyros is barely a city, Ba’an. I mean, it doesn’t even show up on most maps. But yeah, Heliopolis is big. It used to be its own city-state, back in the day. I guess it’s the heart of the empire now, with the emperor in residence.”

She blinked. How big was a normal Dolkoi’ri city, then? Lukios laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. Ba’an's cheeks grew hot as she cast a furtive glance about. No one seemed to be paying them any mind, but still. She scowled at him.

“Ha, sorry. Couldn’t resist. Don’t worry, Ba’an, no one’s looking. They’re too busy loading up for the day.”

They made it to the wall and the stench assailed her, making her eyes water. It was understandable that animals would smell, but this was something else. Too many animals in close quarters, with perhaps too little cleaning in between. Of course this was a market, so Ba'an thought the merchants may have no say in the matter.

“Yeah, it does get a bit ripe. Kyros is a bit of a mess for sure.” There was straw piled up against the stone walls, with chickens and other small animals in cages and hutches. Nearer to the wall were goats, tethered to poles set up on the ground. It looked very temporary, the sort of set up that could be put up and taken down quickly.

“Where do they bring the animals from?”

“There are lots of farms south and west of here. We’ve got some mines to the north too, though I’m guessing you know about those.”

She did. The mines were in K’Avaari territory, and a point of conflict. Nobody was fighting over it now because the war had depleted both sides, but she knew it was only a matter of time before tensions came to a head—again.

Lukios read her expression correctly, as usual. “Yeah, I know. Hopefully, no one shoots anyone over it anytime soon. That’d be a right mess.”

Ba’an was of the opinion that no one had to shoot anyone. A stone-shaper could simply collapse the mine, but the trouble was in the rock: they could not get close enough to give a shaper to the stone, and once given, the shaper would be bound there. It was a great waste of a precious resource. Like witches, shapers, too, had become rarer and rarer, so it was most likely the latter fact that dissuaded the K’Avaari. It would have been a small matter otherwise for the A’tat to bring together enough witches to put the entire camp into a deep, deep sleep for as long as they needed.

“Hm…you’re thinking about some kind of witchy magic thing again, aren’t you?”

She gave him a look of annoyance. How did he always know? Was she truly so obvious? She did not think she was, but Lukios never seemed to have trouble understanding the direction of her thoughts. It was uncanny and occasionally unnerving.

It also made her wonder: had Thu’rin been able to read her so readily as well? And if so, had it merely been a matter of tact that had kept him from blurting out her thoughts for all to hear? Or was it merely that Lukios had a particular talent for reading others?

“Um…was I not supposed to notice?” Again. How was he doing it? She suppressed a sigh.

“No, Lukios. I am merely…” She stopped, then started again. “Lukios. Am I truly so obvious?” A witch kept her own counsel until she decided otherwise, and not a moment before. Ba’an had been raised around this simple fact since she was a child. Surely Ul’ma would have told her if she had been so obvious? Ul’ma had not been the sort of teacher to mince words, and she had not spared Ba’an the rod, either, though Ba’an had never been the sort of child to need it much.

You could try thinking as you look in a mirror. I'm sure it would be enlightening. In more ways than one. And then the horrid little creature snickered.

Ugh. She had to get rid of the thing. As soon as possible.

It caught her thought and sniggered even louder. I'm sure you will, oh mighty Stormcrow! I am shaking in my...well, I suppose I do not have any sandals. Or feet. Its tone had become rather pointed.

The creature yowled when Ba'an gave a sharp, sudden tug on the threads holding it caged.

How mature and dignified of you, mighty Stormcrow. Not childish in the least!

Yes, and I shall continue being so mature and dignified if you continue squawking.

Ba'an got the distinct impression the thing was sneering at her, but mercifully, it fell silent.

Lukios had, thankfully, not noticed her lapse, being too busy sighting down the street to avoid on-coming traffic. Ba'an was certain some of the carts were in the wrong lane, and her suspicions were confirmed when the drivers began cursing at each other, arms gesticulating wildly as they raged back and forth. “Well," he was saying, "sometimes. I mean, you’re not too bad, Ba’an, but...I used to be a slave. I got real good at reading people." He gave a cool, careless little shrug. "Slaves who don’t learn don’t last too long.”

Oh.

“So yeah, be careful around slaves, Ba’an. They can read most people like a scholar reads books.”

Ba’an reached out without thinking and put her hand on his forearm. She should have guessed as much on her own; now she felt ashamed and sad, and she wished they were alone so she could hold him, even for a little while.

“Aw, don’t fret, Ba’an. I told you it was a long time ago. It’s just some things stick forever, I guess.” He put his large, warm hand over hers and squeezed, smiling the gentle way he always did when something upset her.

“I am sorry, Lukios. I should have guessed it.”

He gentle smile suddenly became rakish. Before she could speak, or even step away, his hands were under her arms and she was being picked up and up and up, and—

He spun. Ba'an opened her mouth, but only managed a startled wheeze. What—!

He turned all the way around once, twice, and Ba'an finally found her voice again. “Lukios! Put me down!”

He twirled her around one more time, then obeyed. She swayed, dizzy, then scowled up at him. “What are you doing?”

“There you are. Much better.” He grinned. “You were getting a bit mopey, Ba’an. Anyway, we’re here now. Let’s look at goats. You should choose one for yourself too. A cute one.”

He was correct; they were right in front of the animals already. The goats were staring at the two of them, as though to say, What is wrong with these humans? Have they gone crazier than usual?

Ha. Of course not. Only Lukios was mad, and Ba’an did not think this particular madness was catching.

Or at least, she hoped it wasn’t.

She stared down one of the goats that was looking at them in a particularly disdainful way. “No, I am not mad,” she told it. “Only he is mad. Do not look at me like that.”

Lukios burst out laughing. “Oh Ba’an, I don’t think you’re convincing anyone with that.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “This is your fault. What possessed you to do such a thing in the middle of the market? I am sure the merchant thinks us both insane.”

“Nah, he didn’t notice. No one’s paying any attention, Ba’an. And even if they were, who cares? Money’s money.”

She looked around, then sighed. It was true. No one was paying attention. Perhaps she was simply on edge; she was a K’Avaari woman in a Dolkoi’ri city. She simply could not shake her wariness, even with Lukios. Habit, perhaps. Ba’an had always ventured into Kyros alone and had been forced to be alert at all times, even when sleeping outside the walls. She had killed more than once in the five years she had been coming here to trade. Men often thought her easy prey, until their souls were pulled out of their bodies and devoured. Then they simply did not think at all, being too dead to do so.

“Aw, this one’s cute. Look at her eyes! At least…yeah, I think it’s a girl. Think you’d get along with her?”

Ba’an looked. Lukios was petting a small white goat with long dark lashes. Her eyes were big, liquid brown, and she seemed to enjoy being scratched behind the ears. But when Ba’an reached for her, the nanny snapped her teeth at her; she did not seem to like Ba’an nearly as much as she liked Lukios.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.” Lukios gave the goat a look of admonishment. “Why are you so sweet to me and so mean to her? Hm? Come on, be nice.” He scratched the goat under the chin and the creature made a little noise of happiness.

Oh, that was just not fair.

Lukios took one look at her face and valiantly refrained from laughing. “Let’s try another one.” They went through the goats, looking for strong, healthy animals. Lukios needed two, having decided to sacrifice them at the temple. The goats obviously did not understand that the nice man was buying them to kill them, which was just as well. At least they would be happy up to the moment they died. Wasn’t that what everyone wished for in the end, anyway? Happiness, until the moment life was taken or lost? Perhaps being witless was a blessing. Ba’an was abruptly aware of her own pulse, which suddenly seemed measured and rationed. How many heartbeats left?

She shook herself immediately from her line of thought. If she became melancholy, Lukios would notice. This was not a conversation she wished to have here—or ever, really.

"Why two?" Ba'an dodged a bad tempered billy that looked like he was looking for a fight. Tethered as he was, she did not like the look of those horns.

Lukios finished checking the teeth of another billy, who was much more even-tempered than the one Ba'an had avoided, before speaking. "Well," he started, "one's for Hermeíēs. Y'know, to thank him for making sure you found me on that road?" Ah. Ba'an did not think it had anything to do with a Dolkoi'ri god—she was sure she would have heard one, if it had been nearby—but outlanders did not walk with spirits. They seemed to believe their gods were everywhere and nowhere at once, watching and directing events at a whim. It was utterly bizarre, but she could see the appeal for a people who could not sing soul-songs.

"And the other?"

"That one's for…" He trailed off. He was squatting, ostensibly looking at goats, but Ba'an saw his eyes look past them; there was only the walls of Kyros beyond the pens and cages, but she had a feeling his gaze led elsewhere entirely.

Ba'an approached, slowly. "Lukios?"

"Hm? Oh. Right. The other one's for…" His voice had gone very quiet, and she was suddenly concerned by the way he would not look at her. "Rekos."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Lukios?"

Around them, the merchants called out to customers while chickens clucked and goats bleated. Somewhere up the street, something went baa. But Lukios did not hear them; his eyes had gone slightly unfocused, and she recognized the look: Lukios was very far away now. The smile he flashed in her direction was empty.

"What is it, Lukios?"

He began shaking his head, but stopped when she frowned. Instead he looked down, staring into the dirt in silence; suddenly she was reminded of their journey to the road, the way Lukios had sat quiet and still, eyes fixed on the blood still staining the stones.

Ba'an squatted beside him, slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow. When she lay her head on his shoulder, he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Ba'an," he said, and what she heard in his voice made her insides ache. "What do I…tell them?"

"Who, Lukios?" She kept her voice soft, matching his tone. The animals nearly drowned them both out.

When his spoke again, his voice had gone very, very small, and she leaned forward so she could hear. "Danaë and the girls." He took another breath, then blurted, "I told them we'd all come back, you know. I promised." He turned his head so he was looking away from her—so she could not see his expression. "Said we'd be so quick they wouldn't even notice we'd been gone." He put a hand over his face and swiped down. "Gods. They're all dead. Rekos is dead. They held his funeral while I was…" A little tremor rolled through him and into her. Ba'an put a hand over his and gave a gentle squeeze. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his hand over so they were palm-to-palm, lacing his fingers between hers and squeezing back. "I don't know how I'm going to face them, Ba'an. I just don't. That's why I…" He gave a bitter little laugh. "It was only half-true, you know. When I said it's because of the family squabbling. I just…I couldn't bring myself to…to…" Go back.

"Lukios," she murmured, and she turned her face to kiss his arm through his tunic. "They are your sisters now. Your mother." She felt him breathe again, the movement cresting against her like water against the walls of a trough. He still would not look at her. "It is better to have you go back than no one."

Lukios was silent. They remained crouched together by the goat pens, ignoring the bleating and the curious animals staring; one even approached, coming as closely as its tether would allow. "It should have been me, though." He muttered, finally. "It should have been me with an arrow in my neck and Rekos who—"

"No." And just like that, Ba'an was perched on the cliffs again, watching the bloody battle unfold, except this time—this time, it was Lukios lying dead in the ground in his fine, bloodied armour while his adopted father fought against the bandits and lost.

Because that was exactly what would have happened: the man, old as he was, would have lost. And Ba'an would have simply flown away, finding the sight entirely forgettable. Why would she have cared?

No. It was worse than that. With Lukios dead, she would not have heard his soul-song, and thus would not have flown out to the road in the first place. Rekos could have won, and it would not have mattered; he would have died of his wounds, or perished on the long desert road as he desperately raced to Kyros on foot. The sun and sand held no mercy for anyone.

She lifted her hand from his loose grip and put it on his cheek, turning his head to face her. "No. Do not dare say such a thing." He blinked, and his gaze focused on her face. Her other hand came up to rest on his other cheek. "Do not dare say such a thing. Do not think it. It was not you, and it should not have been you. Lukios, do not mistaken your worth. I would not have stopped for any other man." And it was true. Only Lukios was rei-tat.

No.

Only Lukios was Lukios.

He did not look convinced.

"I would be dead now, eaten by vultures in the basin." And it was true; Salu'ka would have come to her just the same, and Ba'an would have battled Tik-tak Mal'uk, only this time, Lukios would not have hastened across the desert to find her. His eyes widened, and the light in them returned.

The creature in question gave a derisive little snort. Yes. More's the pity.

Patience gone, Ba'an pulled. Then she pulled again, until its whining was muffled. Enough! Enha-naus-hasa-en seemed to hum in agreement, and Ba'an regretted leaving her coat behind; if she had had its power, she would have used it.

Slowly, hesitantly, Lukios put his hands over hers. "Right," he whispered, finally. "It wasn't me. And that won't change anyway. And…" He closed his eyes and turned his face into her left hand, kissing her palm. "Right," he said again, but his voice was different now—quiet still, but the despair had gone. "Can't let you get eaten by critters," he joked, voice steadier than it had been. "That's just nasty."

Ba'an opened her mouth to speak—

—and the yelped instead as she was yanked backwards by a sharp tug on her shawl. Lukios lunged forward to put his arms around her and keep her from falling, but it was too late; they both tumbled into the dirt, Ba'an landing on her bottom and elbows in an undignified sprawl.

And now they were both filthy. Again.

"The fuck?" Lukios was looking past her with an expression of bafflement. "You serious?" Ba'an craned her head back to look behind her.

It was a goat. A nanny goat, by the looks of her. She was a bit smaller than the rest—perhaps the runt of the litter—but beautiful, with a mottled, brown-and-white hide and long, long lashes. She had a splotch of brown over her left eye. It was charming, despite the end of Ba'an's shawl in her mouth; she was looking at them without a shred of shame, making contented noises as she chewed.

"Hey," said Lukios. "Stop that. Ba'an, can you grab your shawl so she doesn't strangle you with it?" Ba'an complied. Lukios got up and approached the nanny goat, making soothing noises as he came closer and closer.

With a sigh, Ba'an stood up. Slowly. The long, thick shawl, which this morning had seemed a good idea, acted as a noose if she moved the wrong way.

"Hey, little lady," Lukios cooed in his sweetest voice, and the nanny's gaze shifted from Ba'an to him. He had her attention. "Wool's not that tasty, is it? Bet you like carrots more. They're yummy! Be a good girl and let go, and I'll give you a carrot! How about that? Then we can go down to the temple and…"

Ba'an rolled her eyes. That was hardly going to work. She began unwinding her shawl from the other end; it was a little chilly now with her head and shoulders bared to the weather, but it was tolerable. She approached the nanny with her gift.

“Hello, little one.” She put the shawl around the goat, which the little animal seemed to like very much. “Come. See? I am a friend.” Ba’an glanced at Lukios, who shot her a look of amusement. “Pay no attention to that man. He is deceiving you. You would rather come home with me than to an altar at a temple, would you not?” The goat tipped her head and looked at her as though wondering what the silly human was babbling on about, but she seemed to make up her mind in Ba’an’s favor. She allowed the ex-witch to stroke her ears, then her head and neck.

"Really?" Lukios sounded doubtful. “She’s a bit small, isn’t she?”

“They are all small.” It was true. Desert strifa were bigger than these. Outlanders called them goats as well, but Ba’an was not certain they were even really related. Strifa were just as nimble as goats, yes, but they were bigger, hardier; they were not as good as mounts as perhaps, a camel, but they were sufficient if no camels were available.

“Well, they’re goats. But that one’s smaller than all the other ones. Are you sure you want her? I mean, I don’t think she could carry all that much. Hm, do you know how to ride?”

“I do not. K’Avaari do not keep horses. Lukios, I want this one.”

“Okay. Do you want—”

“Lukios, I cannot feed two goats.” And she did not wish to try. She would have to shepherd them to better grazing spots, and those were all near the desert border. She would encounter others, she was certain, and then…it was possible there would be conflict.

“Ha. True. I think two of them would strip the grove dry.” Indeed. Even with one, Ba’an knew she would have to graze her elsewhere on occasion as well. It was just as well. She knew where she could find wild-growing sagi grass, and she could feed her things from the bir-vuti if needed. She snuck a look at Lukios as he paid; finding sacrificial animals had not been difficult, in the end. Ba'an glanced at her own little goat again, who had been given a carrot, as promised. She looked remarkably happy about it, to the point that she had not protested when Ba'an had taken her shawl back.

She was an adorable little creature. Ill-mannered, perhaps, but adorable.

Ba'an glanced at Lukios again. She suspected he had not only been concerned about the load. Perhaps he had remembered what she had said to him all those nights ago about the emptiness of her not-vuti.

Once finished, Lukios led the goats, tethered together by a rope. His melancholy seemed gone, but Ba'an suspected he had merely buried it beneath his cheer, as he always did. He came up to her with his usual jaunty smile. “Ready?”

"Yes."

They set off, with a trio of goats bleating and tugging at their rope behind them.