32

Nahga was exactly like Peter described: hardworking, with a population that varied depending on the day of the week and the number of boats squared away in the harbor. Alyce quickly fell in love with the cloudy settlement; the people there all sounded like Peter, twangy and wry and rough at the edges, and in every direction she happened to glance there were packs of children who were up to no good, tripping townsmen, stealing bread, wrestling over elselike and all range of broguish nonsense.

She squatted roadside while Peter and Una stopped in with a pother for something. Ethos squatted beside her. They didn't so much watch passersby as try to blend in with the humble environment, which was no easy feat, considering. Ethos eventually averted his eyes altogether to count their castings, piling them clumsily between his feet, grubby fingers slow and unwieldy. He hadn't been sleeping, she knew, but it showed in his bearing more than his face. 

He suddenly caught her staring and asked, "What is it?"

"Nothing." Alyce scowled at him and looked away. "This is boring."

"Want to go make the goats faint again?"

"I can't have fun when you're projecting so much grumpiness."

Ethos chuckled at that, ever the grand pretender. "I don't project grumpiness."

"You do," she snapped, glancing sideways. "You've been grumpy since we left Kacha's. Stupid."

Muted daylight kicked off the castings. "Sorry," he said. "I don't really get it myself."

"You're thinking too hard again. I hate it when you think."

"Peter won't let me take oupir anymore. It helped a little to calm my mind."

"That pisshead's one to talk. Why do you always do what he says?"

He continued to count. Grubby fingers. Grubby copper. "It's easier this way," he said. "I get along with him better when I keep my thoughts to myself. I don't have that luxury with you."

"That's lame, you know. He's human. Tell him to get bent."

"It's fine if it's just small stuff. I'm no pushover."

Alyce pushed him over. "Pushover."

He caught himself, laughing, and promptly spotted something behind her. As he wobbled back into a squatting position, he pointed and asked, "Your fans?"

A knot of filthy ankle-biters were peering around the road corner. One by one, they ducked out of sight and ran. "Kids," she sighed. "It's because I look like them."

"You don't just look like them, though."

It was true, so she didn't answer. She hated how reasonable he was. "It's cold," she muttered. "All I want to do is sleep."

"We'll reach the farm soon enough."

"I wonder what Eadric's doing right now."

"Something evil, I imagine. Killing babies and suchlike."

Alyce glanced, leering. "You said suchlike."

"Don't you dare tell Peter."

Her knees were beginning to ache, so she sat against the pothery wall, legs stretched out in front of her. She stared at her boots. "I miss him," she admitted, sourly. "Do you?"

"Sure. About as much as I'd miss a rash."

She smirked, without heart. "He had a cat when I met him," she remembered. "He didn't play with it or anything— I don't even think it had a name. He'd just sit around and watch it sometimes, like he wanted to see how it worked exactly, break it down like a timepiece." Aslant, she met his lovely eyes and grinned, adding, "Kind of like how he looks at you, monster."

He didn't smile with her. "What happened to it?"

"What happened to what?"

"The cat."

"Oh." She shrugged and looked back at her boots. "I dunno," she said. "It disappeared one day, I guess. It's not like we sat down and talked about it."

"No surprise there. He probably tortured the poor thing to death." Ethos made a quiet sound, not quite a laugh. "In Six Pass they called him a demon."

"You're just like him, Ethos. Get over it."

At once there was a weight to the air, one that made it hard to breathe. It felt as if her very bones would crush beneath the pressure. Ethos was tranquil enough, piling castings like nothing had changed, but she didn't buy it. The pressure was coming from him. "I'm getting a little tired of everybody saying that," he murmured, eyes low. Crows were in her periphery. "Dial it back, please."

The pothery door opened, setting off a dutiful bell. Peter followed Una outside and glanced around the street out of habit. "Inconclusive," he said, to Ethos. "Let's hit up the quay for lunch."

The weight lifted. Ethos gathered the castings and stood, heels ever-so-slightly risen, like a gust of wind might blow him away. He turned to Alyce and extended a hand, but his easygoing smile didn't match his eyes. "It's time," he said. "Hungry?"

She deliberately looked at his hand. "Do you care?"

"Of course." Peter and Una were talking, so he privately said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't ever do that again, Ethos. Whatever it was."

"I won't. I'm sorry. Stand up, please."

Onward and upward, the saying goes. But Nahga was built on a bit of a rise, so their leisurely walk to the shore slanted downward. Alyce hung back with the princess at first, hopping with purpose from cobble to cobble, trying to shake a sensation of dread while suffering Una's rotting-fish stench. It had worsened, the stench. She wondered if that was why they'd gone to the pother.

The quay shortly came into view, hugging the shore of Onaga Blight. It was filled with all manner of vessels. "Those two there," Peter said, indicating a larger pair. "Those are from Oldden. Cloudliners, like. They've got power holds down below that raise it clear out of the water."

Ethos leaned in to share the view. "What about that one there?"

"The junk? That's from Flint. Lookit the flag." 

"Are they here for you?"

"Maybe." Peter suddenly slowed. "Marie's got her booth closed," he noticed, scanning the general area for her. "She had amazing parsnips."

Ethos snorted. "Your inner bumpkin is showing."

"Oi, respect. This bumpkin got you across the country and back again."

"Yeah, but on the map it was like, this far."

Alyce smiled in spite of herself. It was impossible to stay mad at someone like Ethos. She followed behind in his massive shadow, walking clumsily backward-ho and making believe that its antlers were hers. Crows hopped around her feet.

Ethos noticed when Una told her to stop. "That's enough," he gently commanded, after he'd turned and seen her at it. "We're supposed to be blending in."

She wanted to ask what the point was. "But it's spooky. I like it."

His eyes moved over the shadow, the crows, and then subtly took in their surroundings. Nahga was supposedly Peter's hometown, but no one yet had answered his call, greeted him back or acted cordial; twice now Alyce had met someone's eyes and watched them quickly scurry away. 

Ethos turned forward again and said something imperceptible to Peter. With a backward glance at Alyce, he asked, "What would you like for lunch?"

"Cheese."

"You can't just have cheese."

"You asked what I wanted, monster. I want cheese."

The quay was buzzing with activity. She'd known that there'd be refugees from out west, but the numbers were greater than she'd expected. If the others were shocked, they didn't remark. Alyce forced herself to behave by reading the archboards of ships in the harbor, laughing aloud at some of the names. 

Pier Pressure. Ship fer Brains. The Knotty Seaman. Clewless.

Something smelled delicious. Certainly not Una. Visibility wasn't that great with so many people around, but she could see a plume of smoke rising high above them, acrid and dark and invitingly sweet, and her belly went wild when they arrived at the frenzied source of it. Una held her close while the boys pushed their way to the front of the crowd and shouted over the uproar, asking what things were and the costs, struggling just to keep their spots without getting crushed underfoot somewhere.

The results were well worth the effort. They found refuge in a nearby pavilion, little more than a tent, really, and ate their spoils in silence. Alyce didn't even complain about the lack of cheese. She just sat on the ground and watched the quay as clouds rolled in off the water. The bedlam. The bluster. The strange sort of comfort. Sometime during it started to snow, lightly, like a fall of ash.

A golden-haired girl emerged from the crowd, wrapped in a shawl, arms full of onions. She looked confused about her subject of interest. Peter. He was finishing a chicken leg, leaning against a post when she spoke. "Peter?" she asked, uncertain. "Is that you?"

Peter glanced, stopped chewing, and promptly continued to eat, unbothered. He didn't seem to care much for her. "Niobe," he greeted, stripping the bone. "You fixed your hair."

"Everyone's saying you abandoned the farm."

He appraised her, mouth full. "Why are you talking to me?"

"It's been a month since I saw you last."

"Aye, and we fought."

Alyce looked at Ethos. He'd benched with Una, shoulder to shoulder, and had leaned in to whisper into her ear. Low-gazed, Una's smile spread as he spoke. She quickly licked her fingers clean and stood, wiping her mouth with the heel of her hand.

Ethos resumed eating. He caught Alyce's eye and winked.

Una joined Peter. She casually hooked a thumb on his belt and indicated their guest. "Who's this homeless girl?" she asked. "Don't give our silver to drifters."

Niobe stiffened. "I am not homeless."

Peter could be a smart cookie sometimes. He took the hint and grinned with Una, eyes on her lips as if he might kiss her. "You know I can't help it when they beg."

Una crinkled her nose. "Watch it, cowpoke."

"Oi, Peter," Niobe intervened, curtly. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

His gaze slid back like he'd forgotten. After another appraisal, he shrugged. "Nah," he said. "We were just headed out, anyhow. Back to the farm I abandoned." He didn't give her time to retort. He gestured for Alyce and turned next to Ethos, presumably to do the same, but the woodling was very intent his rib bone, turning it this way and that for missed meat. Peter sighed and half-laughed his name, ever exhausted by him, and admitted, "Well, it's good that you're eating."

Ethos flung the bone over his shoulder. "Are you done?"

Niobe fully entered the pavilion, fleeced by a light dusting of snow. Her brown eyes were wide and gently bewildered. "Great horned spoon," she swore. "It's you."

Ethos blinked. To Peter, he asked, "Did she just say 'great horned spoon'?"

"You killed King Gladius," she knew, somehow. "You're the one they're all talking about."

That effectively got his attention. Slowly, Ethos went to his feet. "Who?"

"The refugees." She flinched back, into Peter. "My god, it's true— your eyes— "

Peter tried to steer her away. "Enough," he hissed. "Mind your own business, Niobe."

"Don't touch me!" Niobe tore out of his grip and staggered from her own brute force, startling all of the people outside. "Call the town guard!" she shouted about, dropping and bruising her onions. "It's him! It's the king killer!"

Peter seized Una by the elbow. "Time to go," he said. "Be ready to run."

A half-dozen men from the next tent over had already risen and blocked their escape. The crowd pitched about. Someone barked an order somewhere— an Oldden official or town guard.

The shouting began to escalate. "Ethos," Peter barked. "Go."

Alyce hadn't made a decision as to what she'd do or when she'd do it, so it came as a mild surprise of sorts to find herself sprinting after Ethos, weaving through the unprepared crowd in hopes of reaching the Nahga Main. She chalked her ability to keep up with him to size; it was easier for someone like her to duck and sway through the restless throng, hard enough for a near-grown man, let alone one being chased after. He tripped once, a pace ahead, and scrambled back to his feet, her beside him. Western women gathered their dresses, clutching children and purses and baggage.

They'd gone partway through when there came a troublesome man out of nowhere. With no sign of stopping, he drove a great pushcart right into Ethos, who yelped in surprise and reeled backward into the bed. Alyce chased after, shocked by the speed, and let out a horrible soft sound of fear when the troublesome man met her eyes dead-on. But instead of a smack in the jaw or a shove, he reached right down and picked her up, adding her to his quayside plunder.

Burlap landed on top of her— an empty potato sack. Ethos stopped her from instinctively throwing it off of them. "Don't," he grit out, somehow managing to speak with her elbow jammed up against his throat. "I think he's getting us to safety."

Indeed. She dared a peek through a hole in the fabric. He was certainly large, their savior of sorts, with poufy blond hair and grizzled features. Another seaman returned to land, perhaps. He kept his eyes forward and didn't smile, easily blending in with the crowd. 

He suddenly caught her looking again, and she ducked out of sight, hand at her mouth. Ethos was awkwardly nestled beside her, very still and very alert, shoulders bunched against the frame. "Try not to move," he said. "When we stop, follow my lead. Don't attack unless I do. Go for the legs."

She wondered, "But what about Peter and Una?"

"They'll head to the farm."

"Will they expect us to meet them there?"

"Peter will. It's our system to keep moving forward, not back." His eyes fell; when the pushcart hit a bump, they closed. "I have no idea what I'm going to say to Una."

"Stupid. You could always tell her the truth."

"That she compelled me?"

"Obviously. Unless you're afraid."

Ethos cracked a smile at that. Maybe it was her use of the word, so often used by Eadric. He pulled her near, arm around her shoulders. "I like you."

She grinned. "I like you more."

Ethos didn't argue, and that was okay. She'd conceded a one-sided love long ago. The sound of the crowd was fading now, becoming a distant thing behind them. Roadside booths boasted low prices. Men guffawed and whistled at women. Alyce nodded off in the midst. 

She resurfaced when the pushcart rattled on dirt. The slope of the Main had leveled. The laboring breath of their rescuer had eased. Still half-asleep and cramped to some measure, Alyce listened to him and wondered, "Do you think he's friendly?"

"I can't believe you fell asleep."

"I told you I was tired. Do you think he's friendly?"

"It doesn't matter what he is. I'd just like to know what he wants."

"What makes you think he wants anything?"

"They all want something."

His anxiety was deafening. "What do I want?"

"Aside from cheese? I'm still waiting for you to tell me." Ethos gave her a squeeze. "I'll listen," he reminded her, using his cheek to smooth her hair. "I won't judge you."

Alyce listened to his strange, lonesome heart; it softly thudded against her ear, as if it were trying somehow to get out. Quietly, she told him, "Eadric's not who you think he is."

The pushcart lurched to a jarring stop. They fell silent. "There you are," someone said— a girl, her voice edged with a strong northern burr. "He wasn't with the refugees?"

"No," their rescuer replied. "He was there."

"You left him?"

"Something came up."

Alyce exchanged a glance with Ethos. "I was expected to bring him in over a week ago," the girl grumbled. "I'll miss the whole departure ceremony."

He started off again. "You'd have been bored to the gills and you know it."

"Aye, but I should still be there. Out of respect." Her footfall pattered alongside them. It sounded like she was kicking at dirt. On a quieter note, she muttered, "I'll pay you back for the food."

"I know you're good for it. Your crew said as much." 

The pushcart lurched unexpectedly, like their rescuer had narrowly evaded something. The girl laughed, "Oi, oi. What've you got in there, uncle?"

"Precious cargo, ye thieving betty."

"I ain't no betty, ye one-clackered sky pilot. Lemme gander the goods."

Alyce wanted to laugh, but she didn't; Ethos looked too serious. He hid her behind him, one hand flat on the wall of the bed while he felt for his knife with the other. The pushcart jostled. Someone cursed. And then there was light— bright, blinding, hateful light, glaring down on their position. The burlap billowed away in the breeze.

Wolf. Jackal. Wildly, these were the creatures that came to mind when Alyce saw the girl. There was Battlefrost blue beneath her pelts, so she must've been a soldier despite her small figure. And her flaxen hair had visibly been hewn on an angle, as if, perhaps, in a fit of rage, she'd gone and hacked it off herself. Her fierce eyes widened imperceptibly, met by an unprecedented surprise.

Ethos sported the blade in defense. "Back up," he said. "Slowly, please."

The girl split into a wily grin. She looked up at their rescuer, pointing in mild disbelief. "What's this, then, Jonah?" she laughed. "Didja catch it at sea? It looks like it's gonna piss itself."

The man, Jonah— he shrugged, resigned, like curse all if the jig was up. "It's Peter's friend," he explained, simply. "The chain's been on about him all week."

"I was kidding." She glanced back at Ethos, but whatever she saw in his expression robbed her of all her roguish humor. Fascinated, she asked, "Do you know me, king killer?"

He did, and he wasn't the only one. Alyce remembered her well; she was the leering woman he'd seen in his vision, the woman with whom he'd shared a bed. Her unapologetic eyes were hard to forget, gray as steel and twice as sharp, able to see every passing thought. Anouk Battlefrost.

Ethos didn't rise until she'd stood down. He felt for the snowy ground with his toes and roughly pulled Alyce along with him, stretching her shirt, rigid-limbed. "Stay where you are," he warned, on his feet, and then narrowly turned his attention on Jonah. "Why help us?"

Jonah frowned. "The refugees would've strung you up."

Alyce peered around, disoriented by all the white. They'd gone well past the town's outer limits, westward, into the sprawling prairielands, toward the not-so-distant Bone. The roadway was almost completely hidden, marked here and there by unlit guideposts; it led from the town to a farmstead ahead, but it wasn't the farm that caught her eye.

"Ethos," she whispered, tugging his sleeve. "There's someone following us."

Ethos marginally distanced himself from the strangers, keeping her close as he turned just enough to see a ways down the rustic road. "It's Peter and Una," he said. "They've got our bags."

"Good eyes," Jonah remarked, squinting. "Gods alive, is he still growing?"

Anouk sourly crossed her arms. "Put silk on a goat, it's still a goat."

Jonah chuckled. "You're just sore on the chain of command."

"If that mediocre clodhopper assigns me to dock duty I'll tear his liver out through his eyes." She glared when Jonah made a face at her. "I mean it," she said. "Ballsch if he's your son."

Ethos glanced back and forth between them, settling for the larger one. It took a moment for Jonah to notice that he was being stared at. "You're Peter's father?" 

Jonah just grunted— confirmation. "I'm lucky I came back when I did," he rumbled. "Lena was asleep for days. Any longer and she'd have collapsed somewhere." 

"She pushed him to follow me, I'm told."

"I'm told the same. You must've worried her."

Anouk materialized beside Ethos. His knife quickly jumped up between them, reminded, but after a moment, he sheathed it away. Quietly, he said, "Don't creep up on me."

She leaned in, drawing his eyes. "So you're really him," she said, sounding doubtful. "How does a pretty thing like you take out a monster like Gladius?"

"Why do you know about that?"

Alyce wondered if Eadric had withdrawn his protection, ceased to brush it all under the rug. "You took him by surprise, I wager," Anouk baited, still locked on Ethos. "His back was turned and you took him out like the spineless whelk that you are."

Ethos smiled— just a little. "Are you trying to provoke me?"

Peter shouted. Too late, Alyce realized why. A black blur dropped out of the sky— a tono man, glossy quills sinking back into flesh, limbs popping and realigning. He was lean as a rake and in need of a wash, hair matted by weeks of hard living. He seemed to be favoring his left leg.

Ethos turned in surprise. "Sei," he greeted. "It's good to see you."

Anouk had a knife of her own at Sei's throat. Alyce hadn't seen her move. With a nervous smile, Sei put up his hands and asked, "Is it?"

Ethos lightly touched Anouk's shoulder. "It's fine," he said. "Let him go."

She didn't look away. "One of yours?"

"That's right. Let him go, please." Ethos patiently waited for her to stand down. She didn't look like she wanted to. But when she finally did, he asked Sei, "Why are you here?"

The good humor bled out of Sei's eyes. "I need your help," he admitted. "We all do. We have too many wounded and elderly."

"Eadric's still sending out units?"

"Units, hell. The first wave hit us outside of Dayfield. No warning fire, no nothing." Sei paused to rub at his eyes. "They're battalions," he said. "They run in hundreds."

Ethos glanced down at Alyce. "How are we looking?"

Alyce blandly felt to the west, skyward, over smallholds. "There's a ship headed in our direction," she said. "It's one of the smaller blackhound brigs."

"Michael, then. How many on board?"

"One twenty-two. And a dog, or a bilge rat."

He smiled, wryly. "When can we expect it to be here?"

She shrugged. "The winds might change, but I'd give it a few hours."

To Sei, Ethos asked, "How many of ours are left?"

"Sixty-four."

"How many can I use?"

Sei sighed. Twice. "Thirty, maybe."

That didn't seem to deter him. Ethos turned to Anouk; she'd been studying them, wheels moving behind her eyes. "Anouk," he said. "Was the junk rig in the harbor yours?"

Her eyes flashed. "What?"

"You have a crew."

"Aye, what's it to you?"

"How many fighting men did you bring?"

"Twenty-six."

"What, that's it?"

"Aye, that's it," she muttered, sounding bitter. "I didn't think I'd need a brigade to visit some one-copper fishing village." Aside, to Jonah, she said, "No offense."

Jonah smirked at her. "None taken, ye harpy."

Ethos was speaking to Sei again, head bent, voice low. Sei lent his ear and nodded just once, met his eyes, and took off. The speed was startling. Ethos returned, raking at hair. "They're hiding out in Harken," he said. "The oldwood."

Alyce mourned a longer nap. She asked, "What's the plan?"

"I need to go either way." After thoroughly thinking something through, he turned back to Anouk and remarked, "I could use your twenty-six."

She scoffed at him. "You want my support against an Oldden battalion?"

"Gladius is dead," he reminded her, firmly. "It's unsanctioned genocide."

"Dead or not, it'd start a war. I don't speak for the Battlefrosts."

His brow bent in a subtle frown. "Then who does?"

"Aria Battlefrost. Peter's mother." Anouk made an annoyed sort of gesture. "She displaced herself early on," she admitted. "So title falls to her stupid firstborn."

His expression read like he'd forgotten. Rather than argue the matter, he pivoted to indicate Peter and Una, who'd stopped by the nearest guidepost. It looked like they were talking. "That woman there is Princess Una," he said. "Peter was chosen to partner with her."

Anouk stared out at them. "Aye, and?"

"They're in my charge, for one."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "In your charge?" 

"Unofficially, let's call it. But if you need incentive, I can also feed your entire city through winter and establish a natural, renewable light source."

"Impressive, aye." She sounded like she meant it, but there was something strange about the way she was watching him. "How do you know me?" she asked. "I'd remember if we'd met somewhere."

"What makes you think that I know you?"

"The rig, the men, the look in your eyes." She raised her chin— a challenge. "And my name," she said, jabbing him when he glanced away. "You knew my name, king killer. Don't deny it."

He shrugged it off. "Obviously your reputation precedes you."

"Aye, and you're obviously better for a bleeding."

He positively beamed at her. "Scary."

Alyce said his name and stopped; she hadn't meant to intervene. But now he was looking down at her in surprise, so she scowled. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Just wrap it up."

As usual, he misinterpreted her grumpiness. Maybe it was intentional. He crouched in front of her, eyes troubled. "What is it?" he asked. "You feeling okay?"

She saved herself from saying more by hugging him around the neck. He smelled like he always did, incurably herblike despite how dirty he was. He laughed and hugged her back, tightly, thoughts buzzing around her ears. 

Anouk split into a crooked grin when Alyce glared up at her. "Who's the little one?" the soldieress asked. "I think she likes me."

Ethos gave Alyce another squeeze. He stood and his eyes returned to Anouk. "This is Alyce," he told her. "She knows how to find things. She'll be your navigator."

"You're assuming I've agreed to your terms."

He smirked. "Haven't you?"

She smirked with him. "Spriggan."

He just laughed and took off after Sei, a dark blur on the gray horizon. It didn't take long for him to vanish into the snowfall. Alyce would chew him out later for running.

Anouk was first to recover, steely eyes darting sideways. "Jonah," she barked. "Take a horse. Get the Retaliant underway. Clap on all the sail you can muster and set a course for the oldwood."

Jonah picked something out of his ear. He looked at it. "What about you?"

"I'll beat the ship there if I take the gelding," she replied, rummaging through her pelts. "Harken, he called it. We sailed over it coming in from the Dire. There's a body of water— land there and I'll find you." As he started off to his duties, grumbling, Anouk squatted to see Alyce square. "Possessive, aren't we?" she teased. "What's your story?"

"Stupid. You don't want my story. You want his story." 

"Mouthy sprog. I didn't ask for his story. I asked for your story. When I want his story, I'll go to the source and take it fair like." Anouk's eyes suddenly narrowed. She brandished a tiny, hardened fist and demanded, "And who're you callin' stupid, stupid?"

Alyce startled herself by resisting a smile. Her inner child liked this wolf, this jackal, this woman, this blasphemous thing. Face red, she grudgingly extended a proper greeting. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I can't help it. I get protective."

Peter abruptly appeared between them, breathing heavy, forcing her back. "Anouk," he growled, shoulders hunched as if to fight. "What are you doing?"

Anouk defaulted to an exaggerated accent. "Yer ma sent me, seacalf."

"Ballsch," he spat. "She'd sooner have sent me Edoin."

She didn't answer. Arms folded, she watched him angrily scan the sky. "If you're looking for your bird, don't bother," she said. "His people need help. A hostile brig's tearing in."

"And you just let him go off alone?"

Her nose crinkled. "What was I supposed to do, cripple him?" Alyce couldn't see Peter's face from where she was, but after a pause, Anouk scoffed, "What, really?"

He glanced toward town; Una was calmly making her way, in no rush to do much of anything. The walk from the quay had probably been tough on both of them. Alyce wondered how she was coping, if being unable to remember the details was doing her more harm than good. 

Peter turned back to Anouk and instructed, "Tell me exactly what he said to you."

"He said enough." She didn't flinch when he seized her. She just laughed in his face. "You've still got a temper, cousin." 

"Tell me what happened."

"Fine." She stared with purpose until he released her. "We're short on time," she said, sheathing the knife she'd drawn against him. "Walk with me."