29

A week passed. The weather was good, mild enough for them to get by without doubling up on supplies in Anbar, and the uneventful days that followed were northward spent, eastside of Redbeard's crooked Backbone. Great boulders governed that slanted world, most of them coated in moss, and Una couldn't help but feel like they were oddly situated, scattered about, as if they'd dropped right out of the sky. And maybe they had.

Her eyes still ached, relentless. Ethos was sympathetic, having suffered a similar affliction until only recently. He was a charming boy; his habitually roguish behavior was offset by a seemingly well-intentioned personality. But there was something about his shadow sometimes, the way it seemed a bit too large, sometimes with antlers like great boughs of trees. If it hadn't been for his pleasant nature, she'd have been unsettled by him.

Peter was an entirely different story. He was largely cold towards her, monosyllabic, repulsed by her touch. He wouldn't even meet her eyes most days. She suspected she'd done him wrong somehow, yet for all of his quiet, bluefire dislike, he never directed his anger at her. He came close on the rare occasion, but Ethos, being the more perceptive of the bunch, would see it coming and interject, diverting Peter's outburst elsewhere, often at his own expense. Alyce said it was what he was there for.

Alyce. Alyce was at once the easiest and most difficult person to interact with. It was almost as if there were two minds at war within her, vying for power. The first was a childish spitter of insults: quick to bite back, quick to bite hard, quick to tear off, chew, and devour. The second mind was a far wiser sort, gently pragmatic and fearless and kind. "Godlingery," Peter had mumbled, eyes averted, his mouth downturned. "You get used to it."

Eadric paid them visits most mornings. Una hated it. Alyce was usually the poor soul to bear his unbearable likeness, but she preferred it to when he chose Ethos. Eadric's sinister disposition suited that smile too well for words. 

"Una?"

Friends, so called. She saw no proof of it. Each day they'd toss her a few new crumbs of a life she could hardly remember, and more so now than ever before it felt like a world she didn't belong in. Her memories were all grayed out, echoes of a time before the Bonesteels had tried to kill her. 

"Una." Ethos was standing directly in front of her, hand warming her shoulder. He dipped his head sideways and asked, "You okay?"

Privately flustered, she managed to nod.

He smiled, perhaps to calm her. "You're pulling your hair again."

"I can't quite remember what my father looks like."

Ethos carefully put a stop to her nervous tugging. "He's a hard one to forget," he said, unsnarling a knot she'd made by her ear. "I'd have looked funny walking beside him. He's red-haired and grizzly with small, kind eyes. Built like a drum of ale."

"Like Redbeard the Righteous?"

That made him laugh. "No," he answered. "Redbeard had brown hair and no beard to speak of. He was blue-eyed. Uppity. Shorter than you'd expect."

He spoke like someone with a firsthand account, but she'd learned that it was useless to press him for details. "It's been days," she said, instead. "When do you think we'll go home?"

"When it's safe." Ethos seemed to detect a shadow of doubt in her bearing. "Your father's a busy man," he said. "He's responsible for repairing the damage to the city. It's going to take time."

Something clicked. One of her putrefied memories tensed. Una surprised him by lightly taking his arm in her hand. "Don't move," she instructed. "I'm remembering something."

His eyes jumped back and forth between hers. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure. Did we ever visit the flatlands?"

Ethos split into a grin. "Not quite."

"What's so funny?"

"You're remembering how we first met." He gently removed her hand from his arm. "You were very rude to me. But I could see through your robe, so it was okay."

Una's cheeks warmed. "I was rude to you?"

"Well, yeah. I've always thought you were kind of rude." Ethos laughed at her expression. "Don't look so distraught, Una," he said. "If I avoided everyone who was ever rude to me, I wouldn't have any friends at all."

"Was I that awful a person?"

She was being serious, and she thought he probably knew that. His smile softened. "You've done some things you shouldn't have," he admitted. "I get what that's like, but there's no helping it. At most, we can try to do right by the people we've wronged." He wiped something off of her face. "Shima came up with that all on her own," he murmured. "Back when she was still small. It was cute."

He suddenly looked confused. Una watched him and said, "I'm sorry."

She'd surprised him again. He blinked and grinned. "Boy, you really are different," he said. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for."

"My extreme powers of awfulness figured it out."

Ethos sighed. After sending her a reproving look, he took her hands in his feverish ones; he was always like that, hot to the touch. "You've already paid for what you've done, Una," he said. "You just don't quite realize it yet. Can we leave it at that?"

Alyce chose then to somersault out of the bushes due north, Peter close at her flailing heels. Before they were near, Una took the opportunity to ask, "Does Peter hate me?"

Ethos stared, eyebrows high. "You think he hates you?"

He must, she wanted to retort, but the others were already upon them. Alyce immediately and at great volume began to describe some exciting experience she'd had out there involving a frog, but Una was too busy watching the boys to bother herself with the details.

Discretion at its finest, Ethos casually glanced away, lending his ear as Peter imparted a whisper in passing. Una would have missed it entirely if she hadn't known to look for it. There was something very methodical there, something that suggested an objective relationship despite her knowing how close they were. They hadn't even looked at each other.

But Ethos was smiling. Had the news been good? Both hands on his knees, he politely interrupted Alyce's story to tell her, "I have a surprise for you."

Alyce was at once diverted, brown eyes wide. "A surprise?"

"There's someone I'd like you to meet. She lives over the rise ahead."

"Why do you want me to meet her?"

"Because you remind me of her, hero." The pet name made her scowl. His smile grew. "I just need you to put out your feelers first. Can you do that?"

Still scowling, she asked, "What exactly am I looking for?"

"Men. I sent them here to guard my friend, but I don't know where they've set up camp."

Alyce's expression gradually changed. It didn't belong on the face of a twelve-year-old. "You're not going to hurt them, are you?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Because sometimes I can hear through the glass."

"These are tono men," Ethos told her. "They've been isolated out here since before the fall of Wyndemere. They're cut off from the others."

Flatly, she challenged, "So you're going to help them?"

"They'll already know that I'm in the area. The least I can do is bring them up to speed." Tired of being hunched over, Ethos dropped into his standard crouch. "Come on, hero," he teased. "You're looking at me like I'm up to something."

"You're always up to something." But her accusatory glare dissolved into another one of her fond little scowls. "You're lucky I like you," she said, and she nodded her head at the Backbone. "They're up there on the crags, keeping watch."

"How many?"

"Four."

And Ethos was off, just with that. Una watched in bewilderment as he shrank into the sky. "Will he be okay?" she wondered. "He didn't even— "

"He'll be fine," Peter said, starting out. "This way."

Una made chase as she tied her hair back. "Don't you ever worry, Peter?"

"Of course I worry. I always worry."

She pouted a little. "It doesn't seem like you do."

He glared at her and then turned away. He cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?"

Una smirked at the side of his face. "You're asking how I feel?"

"Aye, healthwise. Forget I asked for all I care."

"Who's this woman we're off to see?"

He sighed. "She's a hateful old hag who put us up on our way to Oldden," he said. "Azoso townies call her bird woman. Ethos is sort of in love with her."

In distaste, Una asked, "He's in love with an old woman?"

Peter imparted a private smile. "See, there's still some of you in there."

She bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He looked ahead. "And Ethos doesn't care about stuff like that," he said. "It's one of his few redeeming qualities."

"He has plenty of redeeming qualities."

"You just like his face. That's another part of you that hasn't changed." Peter noticed her staring at him and sneered, "What?"

"I don't know who you think you're kidding. You obviously admire him."

Peter scoffed, blue eyes subtly skyward. "I don't admire him."

"He's perfectly admirable." Una peered at Alyce and asked, "You think so, too, right?"

Alyce was on his other side, clinging to an arm. Her expression was mostly hidden by hair. "Don't ask me," she said, sourly. "I'm not allowed to have an opinion of him."

Una frowned, misunderstanding. "Says who?"

"Says me, stupid. It's way too weird."

"What's so weird about it?"

Alyce glared up at Peter. "Make her stop."

Peter was grinning. He was most handsome when he grinned. "My lips are sealed."

Her glare turned into a glower. "Tell that to your teeth."

"You getting all embarrassed about it just makes it cuter."

Alyce huffed and stormed ahead. Over her shoulder, she spat, "Stupid."

Una stared after her, puzzled. Peter leaned in when they were out of earshot. "Alyce is much older than she looks," he revealed. "Ethos makes her wish it weren't so."

Una conceded a loss for words. "How much older?"

"I've never gotten a number out of her."

"More godlingery?"

"Must be. It's better this way, though. For her."

Appalled, she sent him a sidelong glare. "How is it better?"

"Try to imagine what a relationship with him would actually be like."

"I have." Then, feeling rather cheeky, she leered, "I see you've thought it over, too."

Surprisingly, he grinned that handsome grin again. He hefted his bag and asked, "Do you think this is the first time you've made that joke?"

Una scowled until he stopped being fresh. "What's got you in such a good mood?" 

He replied with an awkward one-shouldered shrug. "I talk a lot of shit, but I'm actually pretty fond of Kacha," he confessed. "I guess I'm looking forward to seeing her again."

"I thought that was it. You're not usually this nice to me."

Peter met her eyes, amused. "I'd be nicer if you deserved it," he said. "But you're not a different person, princess. I'm not gonna be all chummy with you on account of a little memory loss."

Una stopped and caught his wrist. "Hold on a second."

Peter glanced back, a pale ghost of their clouded past. He used to smile at her, she knew, a gleam of fondness in his eyes. But he wasn't smiling now. He just looked at her hand, and then at her face, devoid of fondness or anything resembling affection.

He tore away. "Don't grab me."

"What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

Peter clearly hadn't expected her to ask. Frowning to some measure, he drew close, maybe to see if she'd back off. When she didn't, he asked, "Do you really want to know?"

Una would've answered, but a dirty stick reared up out of nowhere and thwacked Peter hard on the back of the head. She was certain he'd spit nails about it, but as soon as he spun and saw his assailant, he smiled a smile that spread ear to ear.

It was a tiny wrinkled thing of a woman, putting her weight on a gnarled cudgel and smiling back in a thin little line. Her hair was the biggest thing about her, colorless down to her nine tawny toes.

"Beanstalk," she greeted, crafty-eyed. "Where's the city food I was promised?"

Peter laughed her name, and then they were close and whispering rapidly. After a time, he gestured to Una, intending, perhaps, to introduce her. But his smile flickered when he saw her face.

Una extended a hand to the woman. "Una," she said. "A pleasure."

The woman had a firm grip. Her gaze became heavy and full of darkness. "Ah," she mumbled. "So that's what the stench was."

"Pardon?"

"The stench." She turned Una's hand over, inspecting her nails. "Too rough, I fear," she mused. "It must have been her. There are signs of a struggle."

Peter tried to come between them. "Let her go, Kacha."

Kacha glanced. "Fool," she said. "What have you done?"

"Me?" he scoffed. "I didn't do anything."

"Then what did he do?"

Alyce appeared in the form of an unexpected mediator. She had the bearing of the wiser Alyce, the older Alyce. Her eyes flashed as she intervened. "He'll be back soon," she said. "Let her go."

Kacha pressed her lips together again, this time in a begrudging frown. "He's dealing with those men in the hills, I hope," she muttered. "I don't know what they're doing up there, but I haven't slept a wink since they came."

Alyce's gaze clouded and slid. "He's dealing with them."

Kacha was staring now. She released Una's hand and quickly seized Alyce by both of her ears, holding her close for inspection. "Buzzards and bugs, you're a terran," she realized. "I thought the last of you died in the flood."

Alyce reverted. "Get off of me!"

"Fool," she crowed. "A halfbreed, aren't you? How long have you been alive?"

"What's it to you! Let go of my ears! I'll gut you for a fish!"

"How are the lights, halfbreed? How many are left?"

Alyce suddenly stopped her struggling. "You know about the lights?"

Kacha held her face, almost motherly. She smiled a very sad little smile. "When Redbeard's men first came to Karna, thousands were scattered here," she explained. "Two centuries later, there were half that. So tell me, halfbreed: how many are left?"

Stunned, Alyce answered, "Twenty."

"Is that how many Ethos sees?"

"Ethos can't see them at all anymore."

Kacha's eyebrows went up at that. To Peter, she asked, "Hungry?"

He smirked, arms folded. "Crow?"

"Pig," she grunted. "I knew you were coming."

"You killed someone's pig for us?"

Kacha shrugged it off. "I've killed worse."

The three of them scaled the rise together. Una was a ghoul behind them, compulsively trimming her nails with her teeth, trying to groom away her anxiety. Was there something wrong with the way she smelled? Could everyone smell it but her? She kept sniffing herself, to be safe, to be sure, pulling her hair, dragging her feet, stomach agrowl at the thought of meat.

The hut was cobb and a bit too small. Even she was forced to duck her way inside. But the space within fit them well enough, the ceiling vaulted and brushed with soot. Kacha stood by the fire, stirring a pot that looked older than time while Peter recounted his troubles since seeing her. She had a distinctive throaty chuckle, and it filled the hut on several occasions during his colorful narrative.

He was describing the fall of Wyndemere, visibly troubled, when Kacha and Alyce both looked at the door. Someone knocked.

Kacha hobbled to answer it, tight-fisting herbs, cursing her bones. Ethos was waiting on the other side, smile bright in the gathering dark. He dipped his head and greeted, "Kacha."

"Fool," she grunted. "You've kept me waiting."

He immediately ducked inside and scooped her up. She writhed and kicked about in protest, but despite her initial squawking and flailing, she yielded and let him do as he pleased, reluctantly happy, tired, resigned. She said something meant for his ears only.

Finally satisfied, Ethos knelt in front of her. "He's alive, Kacha."

"Hm?" Kacha raked his hair back. "Who is?"

"Your brother. Baroona."

Her hand stilled, lost at the knuckles. Silence breathed and staled and withered. But then she asked him a question, quietly, like she didn't want to. "He's seen you?"

Ethos stared in confusion. His smile had gone entirely. "Should he not have?"

She held his eyes for a moment. Something seemed to pass between them. "Fool," she grumbled, releasing him. "We need to talk."

"Later," he replied. "In private."

He must have had a point, because Kacha nodded and pinched his chin. "Dumb fox," she called him, and she gave him a leaf. "Here."

Ethos ate it without looking to see what it was. His gaze followed her back to the fire. Chewing, he asked, "How have you been?"

She snorted. "Better than you, I hear."

"Ah. Peter must have been telling stories again."

Peter caught his eye and shrugged. "She likes them," he said. "Come sit."

Ethos closed the door behind him. The way he moved suggested at a troublesome time with the tono men. Una thought he might say something about it, but he didn't. He just joined the discussion and smiled and laughed and helped to make the evening a nice one. She supposed they'd earned it; she'd patch him up later, when Peter wasn't around to judge.

She excused herself a few hours in. Nobody noticed. The night air cooled the sweat on her skin, bringing a welcome chill. She went so far as to find higher ground, climbing a stack of wooden crates piled around the back of the hut. The roof was thatched, rye and osier; she gladly went supine there and watched the small smoke hole burgeon and bloom, listening to the others below.

The dark was nice. She couldn't look at her nails, so she didn't. The mountains were backlit with the near-gone sun— a jagged, crimson line. Una drew her coat tight around her, letting the smells and the sounds take over. 

"Sleepy?"

The jagged line was gone. Time had passed. Una blinked at the billowing smoke hole, confused at first about what had stirred her.

Ethos. He'd scaled the crates and had a sit, feet hanging over the edge. Head back, he admired the stars. "I got nervous when you didn't come back. I thought we'd driven you off."

Una smiled. She sat up, straw in her hair. "You'd never drive me off," she answered. "I just like the quiet sometimes. I think that's why you and I get along."

Softly, he scoffed, "Because I'm quiet?" 

"Yeah. I doubt you'd speak at all unless you felt obligated to."

Ethos looked over at her. "I need your help."

 Una pointed to herself. "Me?"

"Is that so shocking?"

"A little. What do you need?"

He resumed his study of the stars. "I didn't just come here to visit a friend," he said. "Alyce and I are marked. I thought Kacha might know of a fix."

Una's pulse quickened. "Does she?"

"She thinks so. She's making preparations below."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "Did Peter know?"

"No. Eadric would have tried to stop me." Ethos looked grim. "Do you understand what it means, for me to be saying this out loud now?"

Una held his eyes. "It means you'd better hope it works."

He smiled, politely, and gave a nod. "I've declared war on the most dangerous man in Karna," he said. "I'd like to have you on my side, but if you don't want any part in the fight, now's the time to say so. I've already asked the others."

He was so handsome. Una leaned in and kissed him. "I'll take part," she said, and she grinned at him, close. "But I bet you knew I'd say that."

Ethos looked concerned. "How are you feeling?"

She chuckled and kissed him again. "Stop asking me that."

Gently, cruelly, he pushed her back. He held her there and studied her face, green eyes darting and kicking off starlight. Firmly, he told her, "Peter doesn't hate you, Una."

The unease in his expression was easy to read. "He doesn't need to know."

"I'll know." Ethos pivoted on the edge of the roof, restoring the distance between them. "I'm sorry," he muttered, and he seemed to mean it. "We'll talk after the mark's gone."

Una scowled. His eyes had slid away, and she didn't speak until they returned, at which point she folded her arms and demanded, "Are you in love with that woman downstairs?"

A small, incredulous smile spread. "What gave you that idea?"

"It doesn't matter. Stop that smiling. Is it true?"

The smile faded. "No, it's not true."

"Is it because you can't?"

"Can't what?"

"Love."

He stared. "Did Alyce tell you that?"

It was tantamount to an admission. Una felt an unusual rush of giddiness rise to her face. "As long as it's no one, I'm fine with it," she assured him. "I don't need to be loved."

"You're beginning to sound like your old self again."

"I hear that's a bad thing."

"Depends on who you ask." Ethos smiled at her again, but something had changed for the worse in his bearing. "Good or bad, I hold no grudge against who you were," he promised. "I'm no better. We all have our own agendas."

"So what's your agenda?"

"To survive, and maybe to fix what I've seen of the future."

She tilted her head. "What's so wrong with it?"

The question dissolved his pleasant expression, and just for a second, just in his eyes, she caught a glimpse of true anxiety. Too quickly, she thought, he looked away. "Nothing, really," he replied. "Peter gets an awful haircut, makes a fuss, strings up the barber."

He wouldn't talk to her about it. She knew that just from his body language, which was noticeably stiffer than usual. Reminded, she looked him over. She asked, "How badly are you hurt?"

He made an annoyed sound. "They always know to expect me."

"Anything broken?"

"No." Ethos lightly touched his ribs. "They couldn't be sure if I was hostile," he said, though she didn't quite care. "It's not their fault."

She shouldered up with him at the ledge, legs hanging. "You're not to blame for everything," she remarked, eyes on the dark horizon. "I hate how quick you are to defend the people who do you wrong."

He shifted. He might have been looking over at her. "They were afraid."

"You still shouldn't have let them off so easily."

"I wasn't about to hurt them."

"But you're supposed to be their king."

"The tono don't have kings. They have gods."

A strange response. Unlike him. Una glanced up in surprise.

Eadric was watching her, black eyes gleaming like bugs in the darkness. "Ho, princess."

Una lurched, but he was faster. His nails raked across her scalp as he wrenched a fistful of hair by its roots. Her back crashed into his chest. He quickly muffled her with his free hand, stifling a decidedly mortifying sound of protest. She dug nails into his arm.

Low-voiced, he warned, "Quiet."

Una stilled, biting back the urge to retaliate. Harming him was out of the question, after all. So she tried to speak, to prove to him that she understood.

Finger by finger, his hand peeled away. "Don't shout."

"I only shouted because you attacked me," she snarled. "Let go of my hair."

He didn't move. "You're exceptionally calm," he noticed, blandly. "I like that. I'd be tempted if you didn't smell like something that died in the crawlspace."

Una bristled. "What do you want from me?"

His soundless laughter turned her stomach. "You?" he asked. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. Just stay out of my way and you won't get hurt."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to remove the threat, of course. The boy wants a war, so he'll get one." Eadric released her and climbed to his feet. "I've been expecting this since he set a course for Azoso," he said. "All it took was some patience and timing on my part."

Una's teeth ground together. "Did you let him see her just to be cruel? You could have easily come here alone and killed her without him knowing a thing."

"Easily?" he echoed. "There's nothing easy about it. She has the same bite that she had in the Old War. I need Ethos to take her out."

"You think he can?"

"Oh, I know he can. The tono can't raise a hand against him." Eadric seemed bored by her quiet confusion. He turned away and said, "It's lost on you."

Ethos didn't love Kacha. If the stories were true, it meant he didn't love anyone. But Una knew he'd feel the loss if Eadric had his way again. So, before she could think better of it, she took a breath and launched herself at him, pitching them both into open air.

They landed far more quickly than anticipated, and Una didn't try to move until a few arduous moments had passed. Eadric was gravely still beneath her. She coughed just once and said his name, hoping that maybe she'd knocked him out. 

But then he groaned. He called her something unspeakable.

Adrenaline coursed to her fingers and toes. Una stumbled for the hut, boots sliding through brittle soil. She shouted for someone— Peter, presumably, because he was the one who opened the door. 

"Eadric," she blurted, tripping over herself. "Eadric, he— "

Gibberish. But the butchered explanation was all that he needed. Peter glanced back into the hut, murmured, "Don't come out until I say so," and then closed the rickety door at his heels. To Una, he instructed, "Catch me up."

"He knows," she replied. "He's come to stop us."

Eadric spat at the dirt, clutching his side as he rose to his feet. "Princess," he muttered. "I'm sure I told you not to shout."

Peter stepped forward. "Kacha's under our protection."

"Kacha's under her own protection. You're a convenient obstruction at best." Eadric looked down at his hands, frowning hard. He flexed his fingers as if to invoke something. "Bah," he grumbled. "There must be a trick to it. Like this? No. Drat."

Peter risked another step. "You don't have to do this."

"Obviously," he agreed, eyes rising. "Your point? I assume you have one."

"Removing the mark doesn't need to make us enemies." Peter was using his reasonable voice, the one that talked people off ledges. "Alma is our greatest threat," he went on. "We know that —we all do— but this hostage situation isn't working. It's not necessary. We can work together."

"It's working just fine." A mushroom suddenly sprouted between Eadric's feet. He studied it from above and then looked back at his hands. "What did I do?"

"It was hard for him at first, too," Peter said. "It takes time."

"Just give me a second. Stay where you are or I'll have you beheaded."

Peter turned to Una. He looked tense. "Get me some rope."

Una stared at him. "Why would I have rope?"

"Just figure it out."

"Look around, Peter. No rope."

Peter abruptly advanced on her, glaring, and she moved to protect herself without meaning to. But rather than strike her, he unhitched her belt, holding her eyes just like he'd done earlier. 

She felt silly for thinking he'd hurt her. Later she'd blame the fall. Thankfully, Peter neglected to comment; he jerked her belt free, turned back, and stopped short. Ethos was blinking at them, hands still sort of extended, confused. 

Green eyes wide, he realized: "Alyce."

Peter approached him. "There's no time to explain."

Kacha fled the hut, arm bleeding. The door banged loudly against the wall. Alyce calmly followed after, cleaning a knife on the front of her shirt. Eadric. His words were eerily glazed in the youthful ring of her voice. "O Kacha," he sang. "Let's reminisce."

She stood true. She bared teeth, doglike. "I won't be deterred by your choice of host."

Eadric smiled, a flash of white— baring teeth in his own right. It spread as Kacha raised the cudgel to her shoulder. He asked, "You'd strike a child?"

"That's no child."

"Get ready," Peter whispered to Una, his hand on her arm, his breath in her ear. "Restrain Alyce when he makes the switch. Figure it out, understand?"

She nodded. "Ethos is injured," she replied. "His left side. The ribs."

Kacha's dominant foot skillfully slid behind her; the cudgel whirled and aligned with her back. "I didn't take you for a coward, Sutter," she said. "I'll find no joy in this."

Eadric smirked. "You seriously plan to fight me?"

"The girl will heal. I'll see to it."

The unflinching statement robbed him of his crooked amusement. "Ever the pragmatist," he said, leaden. "I always liked that about you."

Final words, at least from Alyce. Her black eyes cleared. Her knees buckled. The bloodied knife fell to the ground. Una rushed at once to her side, trusting Peter to deal with the rest. "Alyce," she said, smoothing back hair. "Alyce, honey, look at me. I need you to get up."

Alyce wearily kicked off her boot. The sock came next; she gave it to Una. Her expression was reminiscent of Ethos. "Here," she said. "Should be long enough. Just do it."

The girl understood the danger well. Of course she did. Una apologized regardless, turning with her to tie off her hands. She whispered, "Tell me if it's too tight."

Alyce just sighed and watched the others, back hunched like she wanted to join them. "It's fine," she grumbled. "Better tight than loose."

Someone shouted. Kacha. 

Peter was on the ground some distance away, slow-moving, possibly wounded; Ethos stood over him, albeit black-eyed and a little disheveled, trying to laugh while catching his breath. "And that's how it's done," the hellborn said. "I'll need to rethink this arrangement of ours."

Nearby, Kacha's hands fisted. "You'll burn for this."

Eadric cheerfully turned on her next, but his smile languished as he approached. "Can you tell?" he asked. "Is he real?"

Kacha was angrily silent, glaring.

He pointed a little to the left. "I could make you eat that pig shit, Kacha."

"You're just as depraved as you were in the war," she grunted. "Wonders never cease."

"Tell me," he repeated, quieter now, and thus more fearsome. "You were always with her. You were there with us when she died the first time. If anyone knows the truth, it's you. Speak up."

Kacha cackled at him. "You don't have it," she'd realized. "You may have his voice, but only he can control the tono. Fool." She suddenly brought the cudgel up, striking him under the jaw. She fell back into her skillful stance and barked, "Peter."

Peter appeared and clotheslined Eadric into the ground. It was a hard landing. They struggled there briefly without saying much, wordless things, mostly, grunts and the like, occasionally shouting out in frustration. It ended with Eadric flat on his belly, Peter's bended knee on his back. Kacha secured his arms with the belt, hunched and grumbling under her breath.

Eadric was laughing by the time they stood him up. His legs were clumsy with fatigue. "Just you wait," he leered. "I've seen what he's seen."

Kacha seized his face one-handed. "It's your loss. Disappear."

Surprisingly, he did just that. Una didn't trust it for a second. Ethos was left there looking uneasy, his eyes on Kacha, cheeks squished in the vice of her grip. "Still alive," he greeted. "That's good."

Kacha's expression crumbled. Her hand slowly returned to her side. "You fool," she said, and she took a step back. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

He smiled, apologetic. "How close are we to fixing this?"

"Close." Her gaze slid to Peter. "Help him inside," she said. "Be on your guard."

Ethos tried to see behind him, craning his neck as his feet were forced onward. "Oh, hey," he said, when he caught sight of Peter. "You look awful."

Drily, Peter replied, "So do you."

"I'll bet you're loving every second of this."

"Stop being an asshole just because you're afraid. Watch your head."

Their voices trailed into the hut. Kacha bent down to appraise Alyce, fingertips lightly lifting her face. "You're a quick thinker," she said. "How long have you been in his care?"

Alyce watched her, unassuming, complacent. "A while."

"I can tell. He didn't want me hurting you."

"I'm sorry about your arm."

Kacha glanced at the wound as if she'd somehow forgotten about it. Very slowly, she looked back at Alyce. "How much do you remember?" she asked. "All of it?"

Alyce averted her eyes. She nodded just once.

Kacha pressed, "And the boy?"

"I don't know."

"I see." With a sigh, Kacha rose from the ground. She was relying on the cudgel more than before, drained by the fight. "You know what he brought you here for," she said. "Do you understand what I'll need to do to remove the mark?"

Alyce watched her, expression silvered by the moon. "I'm not afraid."

"Good. That's good." At the door, Kacha said, "You have five minutes to prepare yourself."

She left, and Alyce's hooded gaze fell. The night sounds returned without voices to quash them. It was always strange when Alyce got serious; she was so often lively, so rarely dispirited. "Stop it," she muttered, and she glared at Una a few seconds after. "Stop, I said."

Una blinked. "Stop what?"

"Scratching."

Scratching. She'd been scratching the back of her arm. "Sorry," she murmured. "Sorry, I— I don't know what's gotten into me." 

Serenely, Eadric returned to Alyce's eyes like silt stirred up from a creek bed. "They're lying to you," he quietly said. "They're all in on it, keeping you down, making you think that you're weak when you're not."

Una took a breath. "I've had about enough of this."

"You have questions. I can answer them."

"Alyce will know."

"Don't worry about Alyce. Alyce has her own problems." He grimaced a little and repositioned, head bent forward, shoulders back. "Look, I wouldn't trust me, either," he admitted. "But I happen to need a new backup plan, so let's say I make the first one a freebie."

She swallowed, hard. "I'm listening."

He smiled at her. "Excellent," he said. "You remember what I said about the tono being harmless to Ethos. If he told Kacha to die, she would. At least in theory. I find this exceedingly amusing and I'm presently coming to terms with the fact that I'll never be able to do it myself." He paused. "You have a very similar gift, but it only works if you're touching the target. It's called compulsion."

"Compulsion," she echoed. "From my father."

"Yes, that's right. Very good. You both descend from the Auron clan."

Una fell silent. Thoughts racing, she asked, "How exactly am I a backup plan?"

"Simple," he said. "Compel Ethos to see my way. He and I want the same thing, after all. He's just too spineless to do what needs doing." Eadric suddenly seemed to think better of something. "Of course, I wouldn't start with him, no. I'd practice on a human first."

"What do I get out of it?"

"Guidance, power— you name it. I'm the oldest man in creation."

"And yet here you are," Una challenged. "Desperate, and suddenly needing my help."

Eadric raised his chin. "You're under the impression that I'm out of options," he'd guessed. "My apologies. Why don't you run along and gnaw on your putrid, repulsive nails while all of your friends walk on eggshells around you for fear of what you might remember."

Una stared, fingers curling. "Then tell me something."

His eyebrows jumped. "You'll help if I do?"

"Tell me what's wrong with me."

Eadric's expression gradually settled. He looked more like Alyce, she thought; a little unwilling, a little annoyed. "You died," he told her. "The effect it's had on your nails is called ire. It's what happens when a soul is torn violently from the next world, when one's not gentle."

Death: a foreign concept. "Is it permanent?"

"Not if you help me." Eadric glanced at the door without moving his head. "Enough, for now," he said. "Ethos is probably listening in. You have a week to deliver."

As always, he left without warning. Alyce wilted, free of him. "I won't miss that," she mumbled, sleepy-eyed. "Let's go inside. It's cold."

"Alyce…"

"Shut up and help me stand."

They reentered the hut. Una surveyed the space from the door. Incense was lit, ribboning smoke, smarting her eyes and burning her throat. Someone had filled a slack tub with a muddy blend of water and herbs; Kacha, presumably, softly humming an old folk song while gauging a jar of spices. The boys were gathered again on the floor, Peter in profile, speaking low, and Ethos stooped, his eyes on Una. Her chest tightened at the sight of him.

"Close the door," Kacha said. "You're letting the bugs in."

Una complied, heart heavy. She removed a tussock from Alyce's shirt before guiding her in. Peter glanced as they rejoined the group. "We're not out of the woods yet," he said. "I wouldn't put it past him to crop up again."

The godlings were in rare form. Downcast. Una asked, "What's next?"

Ethos looked away before their eyes could meet. Peter noticed and gave his hair a muss. "Next we cheer up," he said, and he smiled when Ethos sent him a glare. "No?"

"I knew you were enjoying this."

"You're sulking. Are you angry that he was a step ahead?"

"I'm allowed to be a little discouraged every now and again, thank you."

"Beanstalk," Kacha called, hunched over the tub. "Give me a hand with this."

Peter went to see what she needed. Ethos scowled after him until Una reached out to fix his hair, at which point his eyes slid back to her face, quietly troubled and full of distrust. 

"Is it true?" she asked. "Was I dead?"

"He's manipulating you."

She smirked. "I'm aware of that."

"Fourteen tono died in the destruction of Wyndemere," he said. "That means there are seventy-two survivors out there that Eadric expects us to kill. Seventy-two."

"How many people do you think died when Wyndemere crashed into Oldden?" she tested. "Before that, even— the night you went after Eadric. Peter's spoken about it. The looting. The riots. I can't even begin to imagine what the survivors have been reduced to." She paused. His anger was fading. "There are roughly one hundred thousand people in Karna. How many more do you think will die before you give up this pointless charade?"

His eyebrows drew together. "Charade?"

"It's just like you said, Ethos. We all have our own agendas. And you're smart. You know exactly what this is and why you're going to all this trouble. It's not about what's right and what's wrong, it's about this competition of yours, this butting of heads you have with Eadric. After everything he's put you through, you just want to say that you've won."

 Slowly, he smiled. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"I know," she answered. "But I'm not wrong. And I won't apologize."

Peter returned, decidedly gloomier than before. She wondered if he'd heard. "It's time," he said to Ethos, jerking his thumb. "You're first if you still want to do this."

Una asked, "What's the process like?"

Ethos tried to rise. "It's a lot like drowning to death."

"It is, in fact," Peter said, helping him. "We'll be holding them under."

Kacha impatiently snapped her fingers at them, indicating their assigned positions. "Ethos, kneel here," she barked. "I'm on legwork and follow through. Peter's on heavy lifting."

Ethos got into place with some guidance. "Is it safe?"

"Of course not." Kacha waited until his knees bumped into the tub. She settled in across the water and took up a fist of his sable hair, strong in the face but afraid in the eyes. "It shouldn't take long," she told him, voice low. "Try not to fight it any more than you have to."

Peter stood by, a hand on his shoulder. "Ready?"

Ethos took a deep breath, toes curling under. "Ready."

They dunked him. The muddy water slopped and spilled. Kacha began humming a single, endless note, unbroken somehow, like she didn't have any need to breathe, and her dark eyes rolled and closed very tightly. Ethos was unmoving at first, but after a while his toes uncurled; they tore at the ground like a set of talons. His body bucked. The belt became strained. Kacha's hum didn't falter.

But then something in the atmosphere changed, almost aurally. Alyce twitched, and Peter abruptly lunged for Kacha. It was hard for Una to process, harder still when she saw the blood. He'd run Kacha through, she realized. A twist of a knife flashed in the firelight.

He straightened, hand dripping, and he smiled when his eyes fell on Una, pitch black. "I told you I had other options," he said. "Did you actually think I'd let Peter slide?"