"Well, what's yer problem, then?" 'Kles crossed his arms, glaring at the bundle of blankets on the bed.

The afternoon was closing, and Pitie was still in bed.

Now that was downright odd an' all, but 'Kles knew for a fact that Pitie hadn't had lunch, either; they'd had a bite at Mahdi's before he opened, then they'd headed straight for the Lion and Unicorn to get some beds. Then they'd gone to the caravan park to take their tent down and pack it while Sangani and his friends cracked some senseless Yartan jokes 'bout ladders or something.

And then after that…

Well, it weren't like 'Kles had asked for nothing big. He hadn't. There weren't no reason for Pitie to still be in a fine snit, and it weren't no excuse for 'im to be so damn lazy, either; Pitie hadn't left his bed since he'd clambered into it just before noon, and he'd flat out refused to leave it.

The man refused to talk, and he'd even refused bribes—he'd even refused food! Pitie! Refusing food!

Sometime past noon, 'Kles had gone back upstairs with a bowl full o' sizzling pork smothered in gravy and a big hunk of fresh bread, and the man hadn't even raised his head. He hadn't even twitched.

Now that was just weird as fuck. Pitie had a nose like a starving muckhound, and he always thought with his belly. It had gotten them into plenty of trouble as kids, 'cause Pitie always put his filthy fingers in the pies. Sometimes 'Kles thought it was a miracle his ma hadn't just snapped one of Pitie's thieving fingers clean off.

Askles continued glaring at the tufts of red, the only visible bit of his childish friend.

"Nuthin'." The bundle of blankets became a ball. "I'm sleepin'."

"No, ya ain't." Askles strode over to the bed and grabbed the blankets, intending to spill them—and Pitie—off the mattress and onto the floor, but he was thwarted as the heavy man rolled away, coiling the ratty old thing tighter.

"Pitie!"

"Go 'way, 'Kles. Go to yer pretty, too-good-for-Pitie lady an' leave me alone."

"That ain't true! That ain't what I said!"

Pitie remained stubbornly silent, and 'Kles barely kept from tearing his hair out. "Why ya bein' such a baby? I said ya gotta wash yer face an' change yer clothes! This ain't Lofos, Pitie! Pitie!"

Really, what was wrong with him? It was true Pitie could be a right stubborn brat when he wanted, but this was just getting stupid.

He couldn't really be that jealous, could he? It weren't as if 'Kles was gonna forget about Pitie just 'cause he was married. He just wanted Pitie to look decent, was all. That was just plain ol' sense. How could they meet Chloe's da and her harpy of a ma dressed in crumpled, vomit-stained clothes?

'Kles just wanted him to dress nice, just this once. Just once. He'd done it for Lucky, hadn't he? "I told ya. If yer worried 'bout spending coin, I'll buy one for ya. 'Ow's that? Good deal, ain't it?" The ready-made stuff weren't as good as what their mamas made, 'twas true, but this was Kyros. Cities were different, and he didn't think Chloe or her parents would notice.

"I ain't goin'. Go 'way, 'Kles."

Askles groaned.

Pitie was silent.

Askles huffed.

Pitie was silent.

Askles snorted and rolled his eyes.

And Pitie was still silent, doing his best to mimic a lump of blankets with a bit of wiry copper sticking out.

"Fine," the swarthy man snapped, striding away and picking up a fat, bulging pouch of coins. "Have it yer way, then. Don' complain later, 'cause I ain't hearin' it."

The pile of blankets only grunted.

Askles rolled his eyes and stomped his way out of their room.

The Lion and Unicorn was the only real inn in Kyros. In truth it weren't really an inn; those were rare, and only the big polis had 'em. It was more like a taverna with rooms to let, and Pitie and 'Kles had been lucky, snapping up the biggest one as it emptied.

He felt a little grin take over his mouth.

They had damn proper beds, the Unicorn. The best part? He didn't have to share with Pitie! It would sure be nice to wake up without a stinky foot in his face or an elbow to his balls. Pitie slept like a goddamn disaster, all limbs and chaos everywhere. It was a wonder he hadn't gone and killed no one yet. No wonder he only slept with whores—no one else would put up with his shit, 'cept 'Kles on account of being such a damn good friend.

The thought killed his smile as he went down the stairs two at a time. The spring in his step faltered, then died.

'Cept that didn't matter now, did it? 'Kles was getting married, but Pitie weren't happy for him at all: he was sour.

If Pitie had been getting married, 'Kles woulda been happy for him. He wouldn't have said no to a bit of shopping. He would've helped him pick out gifts and helped him carry 'em out to his bride-to-be's parents. That was the right and proper thing to do, weren't it?

But no. Pitie was sleeping. Pitie had gotten into a good ol' snit about havin' to wash his face and change his clothes and was refusin' to get outta bed.

The little shit.

By the time 'Kles had reached the common room, his expression had gone back to being thunderous enough that the other men gave him room, and lots of it. With the patch and scar, he looked like trouble; the easy gait and corded muscle said 'plenty of'. He nodded casual-like to the owner as he left, not caring if the man nodded back or not, and strode toward the agora.

He needed to rent a wagon and mule, maybe. That meant he couldn't go down to the apartments 'til sundown, right? There was some rule 'bout it in cities, or something stupid like that. City folk were real impractical that way.

It was at the intersection down the street heading to the heart of the city when he stopped, sighting down the way he'd come. 'Kles waited, squinting, and in another moment he spotted splotch of copper moving his way. His smile came back and he started lifting his hand, until abruptly the man came into focus, his face too square and squashed to be Pitie's.

Askles' hand dropped back down and he tucked his cloak tighter around himself, scowling hard.

"Well, I ain't gettin' you nuthin', then," he muttered at the street, and then, shoulders hunched, he made his way alone to the market.

It was past dark when Askles got back, whistling cheerfully, purse light and heart lighter.

They'd liked the bridal gifts, he was sure of it. It was only a matter of time now before Chloe's da approved of the marriage, but damn, that harpy of a mama had a heart o' rock. She'd taken one look at him when he'd first come up to Kyros and said, "We don't do charity," before slamming the door in his face.

Boy, that had been real humiliating, and if Askles hadn't liked Chloe as much as he did, well…he woulda just marched on back to Lofos, that was what.

But things were different now, weren't they? Askles felt the grin on his face widen. He looked real decent now with all the coin from them Fafafucks, and he'd brought them some damn proper gifts, too: a whole gods-damned mule with good teeth, loaded with baskets full of dyed cloth, spices, and jewelry. Her ma had liked that last bit lots, and by the time 'Kles had left there had been a golden hoop dangling from each of her ears.

Yeah, it was only a matter of time before they started talking serious. Chloe had smiled at him all through dinner, making little excuses to hand him things so she could touch his hand. It had been real damn cute, and he wanted to get married already so he could take her home and…

Well, she was real pretty now. She'd be even prettier naked, right? Heh.

The thought was so distracting that he nearly walked into a man, and he gestured an apology with a sheepish little grin. Now that weren't a thought to have in the streets an' all. That was a thought to have in private when they were good and married with their own good, solid bed.

'Sides, Chloe weren't just pretty. She had a good head on her shoulders. Her da was a merchant and he'd only had girls, so they'd all learned their letters and their numbers and everything.

But Chloe wasn't the oldest. That was it. That was why there was so much damn fuss over it all, but damn, she was such a fine lady, a real once-in-a-lifetime kinda girl…

'Kles grinned. Yup. She was a real treasure, and she was gonna be 'Kles' wife soon. She was just so damn pretty and so damn smart and so damn sweet, the way she was always making people smile. She was perfect. Just perfect.

And she was gonna love the ranch. She liked being outside, and didn't like how crowded Kyros was already: a city girl that didn't like cities.

Yup. Perfect.

And he'd already promised he'd teach her to ride, too. That was gonna be so much fun, but he'd need Pitie around to…

Askles sighed.

Why couldn't Pitie just be happy for him? It weren't like 'Kles was moving to Kyros; Chloe was moving to him. He was still gonna be on his patch of land, nice and close to Lofos.

If 'Kles had been oldest, he wouldn't have ever had to hold a sword—or lose his eye. But he had six siblings, and three of 'em were boys. That meant he weren't getting the horse ranch, so he'd had to make his fortune some other way. His da woulda given him something, that was true, but it wouldn't have been enough to buy his own patch of land.

No, he'd needed to distinguish himself for that. It was true he'd gone and lost some bits here and there, but a big lot of prime ranchland was fair trade.

The only problem were horses. Getting them, that is, 'cause then Oron had just had to go and raise a big ol' stink like he always did 'bout everything: "How come 'Kles gets my clothes, ma? How come 'Kles gets another slice o' pie? How come? How come, how come…" and on and on and on; the bitching never ended.

Damn, it weren't fair at all. 'Kles' ma was always extra nice to his half-brothers 'cause she was always scared other folk would judge her mean: fingers always pointed at a second wife if something happened to the first batch of kids. His ma was so mealy-mouthed with 'Kles and his siblings, but with Oron and Bron?

It weren't fair at all.

Well, whatever. He'd earned his own bit of land fair and square, and even if his da didn't gift him a breeding pair, 'Kles would manage. He'd been managing with smaller animals for the last three years already, so it weren't that bad. He was making enough to get himself a wife now, so it was just a matter of time before he got himself some horses.

Fucking Oron. Fucking Bron. 'Kles da had been feeling good about the horses 'til they'd gone and started up their whining—why did his da always listen to 'em, anyway? They were a fat lot of nothings, that's what, hanging on to their da's himation like they were still ten.

'Kles had gone and proven himself. He'd left a boy and come back a man. Had Oron and Bron even held a spear?

No. They woulda gone pissing themselves the first time some wild barbarian had his go at 'em, that's what woulda happened, the giant pussies.

Well, whatever. If his da kept dragging his feet on the horses, then 'Kles would have to just buy them. There were more horse farms than Lofos, but he'd have to travel. Maybe even go down south past the Bukali, 'cept fuck—that'd mean taking horses over water. Now there was something tricky 'Kles had never tried.

He'd have to ask Lucky. Lucky had done that lots.

'Sides, hadn't Lucky said he was gonna hang up his sword, too? He was all into olives already, 'cept they took some time to grow and start fruiting. Last time 'Kles had been up there, he'd seen a sea of cute little baby trees, all poking their way toward the sun while tenants toiled between the rows. The man wasted no space at all. He'd planted fast crops between the trees, so even if they didn't sell nothing, they saved money on food. They had some chickens, too, and maybe a handful of goats, though not enough for any real ranching. Synoros fed itself and watered itself, and Lucky's boys only came down to Lofos for things they couldn't grow: tools, furniture, pots, pans…

Come to think of it, they did make enough to sell or barter. There was always some goat cheese to trade. Produce, too, sometimes, and some chickens here and there.

Lucky was damn smart. He was making money already, and he never had to break his own sweat in the sun.

Clever fucker.

Maybe 'Kles would go down and help him get his shit up from Heliopolis. Lucky had to know a horse trader or two, didn't he? And if 'Kles had a wife to watch the farm, he could go on longer trips. He could search real hard, and make some useful friends, too, especially if Lucky and his charmin' self were making introductions.

Damn, that was a good plan. Heh.

Fuck Oron and Bron.

And 'Kles really did have a good stretch of land. It was near the desert so it weren't quite so green as Lofos, but there was sweet water in the ground and trees grew wild like it weren't nobody's business. Trees and scraggly bush and desert grass, ha. Lots of good grazing.

'Kles woulda gone for olives, but he didn't know nothing 'bout growing plants. He'd grown up with horses and goats and pigs and chickens. Dogs. Animals. Things that ate and shit and ran away from ya, heh. His place weren't fancy like Lucky's and it hadn't come with its own slaves, but that was 'cause Lucky was lucky with his big, fancy friends; Askles was just plain ol' Askles, so a big ol' patch of land was real damn good.

There were still empty lots up there. Plenty more space for settlers, and well…Pitie was getting older, weren't he? He couldn't possibly be thinkin' of enlisting again. Luck ran out, and it ran out faster when a man was older, and with the amount of service he'd put in, surely he could apply? Maybe Lucky could put in a word and get Pitie a place close to theirs. That'd be good. 'Kles' place was only half an afternoon's ride to Lofos and Lucky's were an afternoon's. That was real damn close—neighbours, 'cept Lucky was never home. He lived in some fancy palace or something down in Heliopolis. His slaves ran the place and managed the tenants, and it was so damn smart, how the man had money streaming in from just everywhere; Lucky was lucky, but he was damn clever, too.

Anyway, Lucky had been talking 'bout settling in Synoros, so maybe he'd help 'Kles do the same with his fancy-boy smarts, 'cept—damn, that Sander bitch. Had to do something 'bout that; 'Kles wouldn't have Chloe or any kids they had near one of those. Who knew what kind of curses she'd cook up?

The witch had to go. In the ground, if they could manage, but if not, well. She could damn well go back to where she'd come from.

'Kles had never thought Lucky'd be so stupid 'bout women, but sometimes that was just how it went. 'Sides, she was a witch. She'd probably given him something—a love potion, maybe, or taken his hair and blood for a charm. 'Kles'd have to enlist Pitie to figure out what she'd done and stop her.

Poor bastard. Lukios had gone and gotten his sense good and scrambled, that was fer sure.

Well, she weren't gonna get away with it, 'cause Lucky had friends.

Yeah.

First things first. They'd have to figure out how to free Lucky from the witch, and then he and Pitie needed to have a real serious talk 'bout settling down, too, and getting himself a wife. Pitie always went on about how whores were nicer, but damn, the boy could be downright dumb. They were nice for as long as a man had coin; once that ran out, their affections did, too.

Wives were different from whores—they stuck around, for one thing, and had yer babies. And they were sweet while they did it, too, unless ya were stupid and picked a bad 'un. A good wife was a pretty sight to see, for sure, though a bad one was a downright terror.

Pitie would definitely need help not picking a bad one. He always looked at tits first, and everything else second. Or never. Or…whatever it was that he did. Mostly tits, and maybe teeth? Something like that.

Askles entered the common room, still in a damn good mood. Pitie was likely out of his snit by now, and they'd have to have some real damn talk 'bout Lucky and the witch. That and Red Stride, and the future, too.

'Kles ambled to the counter and ordered something hot and meaty. The soup when it came was thick with meat and vegetables, full of gravy, and he had to work to keep from dipping a finger in to taste it. It came with big chunks of bread and a bowl of soft olives, and after a bit of thought, 'Kles got them a big ol' jug of phouska, too, then made his way up the stairs to his childish friend.

Pitie had probably scrimped a bit on dinner. He always ate simple and sent back every copper he could.

Yeah, they had to a have a real talk soon. Man couldn't keep living that way, and 'sides…wouldn't it be better to be on a farm near Lofos? Surely he'd like that more than being sent from this border to that, risking life and limb for coin that always ran out?

When he got back in the room, it was dark. The fire in the copper brazier weren't burning, and 'Kles had to keep the door propped open to find his way around without walking into things. He set the food and drink down on the little side table that sat against the wall, though he had to nudge the pile of clothes off the top first. At first he'd thought that Pitie had spent the whole damn day sleeping, but no: he'd gotten up at some point and tidied their things, then he'd gone and gotten himself some porridge he hadn't eaten. The bowl was on the floor, cold and congealed and just disgusting.

Pitie stirred beneath the blankets. His head poked out and 'Kles felt a little disturbed by the glassy look in his eyes.

"'Kles?"

"Yeah."

"…It mornin' now?"

"Nah. Just past second watch." Frowning, 'Kles strode to the brazier. It took a moment and a bit of cursing at the flint to get it going again, but once the room was lit, Pitie hunkered back down, curling under the blankets like a dying dog.

Carefully, 'Kles peeled the blanket back. Pitie made a little snuffling sound and tugged at it, but 'Kles didn't give.

"Pitie," 'Kles said, finally. "You sick or sumthin'?"

"No." Pitie kept yanking at the blanket, so 'Kles let him take it. "I'm jus' tired."

"You been in bed all day, Pitie." 'Kles frowned at the bowl of porridge. "You eat?"

Pitie grunted. "Yeah."

'Kles reached out to touch Pitie's forehead, but the man jerked away. "Don' be weird, 'Kles," he muttered, and then he rolled himself back up in his blanket. "I'm fine. Just gotta sleep it off."

'Kles sighed. "You got fall fever, then?" It weren't odd for a man to get the snuffles when the wind changed, though it was odd for Pitie: the man was an ox. He could walk barefoot through a sleet storm and be just fine the morning after. "You gotta eat something hot."

Pitie grunted, clearly done speaking.

'Kles sighed. "Just eat sumthin' first, Pitie. Soup'll be nasty cold."

"You eat it."

'Kles rolled his eyes. "Don't be a pussy, ya big baby." It was just a spate of fall fever, was all: a hot meal and a night's sleep in a warm room was all he needed. He'd be good as new come morning.

Pitie rolled back over to face 'Kles, poking his head out from the blankets. "No, I ain't. Fuck you, 'Kles. I'm jus' tired. Lemme sleep."

"Ya didn't even eat yer porridge, ya dolt." Nasty as it looked, it was still edible. Just needed some heating over the fire.

"I said I'm fi—"

There was a rapid series of knocks on the door, and Askles turned on his heel as Pitie jolted up, suddenly alert.

A young man's voice called out, "Sir Askles of Lofo-Alfos? Sir Epitus of Lofo-Alfos? I have a message from my master, sir Nikias of House Astros."

Askles and Pitie blinked at each other.

From sir Nikias? At this hour?

Askles went and yanked the door open. The man was younger than Askles had thought. He'd probably just finished breaking his voice—he sure as fuck weren't ready to grow out a beard. "Yeah?"

The boy looked up at him, and Askles noted he seemed to be taking in his features. Then the boy looked past him at Pitie. Seemingly satisified, he said, "I am called Uchos, and I have a message from sir Nikias of House Astros on behalf of his friend, sir Lukios of House Helios."

"And I said, 'Yeah?'. Git on wit' it, kid."

Uchos only continued smiling pleasantly. "Yes, sir!" He cleared his throat and pitched his voice, sounding almost exactly like Lucky, but younger. "Hey! Change of plans. We're hitting the border farms early. We're meeting at the caravan park at dawn and heading out. Travel is covered and pay is a drachma each for two days. See you there!" Uchos cleared his throat again. "That was all of it. Master Nikias wishes to add that service is optional."

Fuck, a whole drachma for two days?

What, was he expecting the whole Sander horde to come down on 'em while they were out? Or was it a bribe, on account of changing his plans the way ladies changed clothes?

Whatever. A drachma was a drachma.

"Optional? Why, he hire some other guys, too?" Now that was a lil' rude of Lucky, after all the trouble with the Fafafucks. His knee was still damn sore.

"My deepest apologies, good sirs! I am only a humble messenger. I cannot say what my master or his friends are planning or have already planned. I have no idea!" The boy looked appropriately apologetic, which was more than a little suspicious.

"Fine, fine. We'll be there." And to think they'd just packed up that morning. Fuck Lucky and his shitty timing. They coulda just stayed and packed it up once.

He tipped the boy two coppers then closed the door to his jaunty, "Thank you, sir!" before turning to Pitie.

"Welp. You 'eard 'im." Askles set the platter of food down on the bed. "Ya better eat. We're goin' campin'!"