The Ox picked off a flake of fish and lifted her mask to taste, revealing much smoother skin than the Hawk’s. The fish must have been thoroughly cooked by now, but the Ox kept frying it as she talked. “None of us have heard from her in months. She hasn’t been answering messages. Hasn’t taken an assignment in over a year. I’ve no idea what’s got her back at it.”

“I can think of about a million reasons,” said the Goat with a scoff. He leveled a finger at Anji. “Finally found a bounty worth her precious time, and she wants it all to herself.”

Anji frowned. “Is that why she stopped working with you? You weren’t paying enough?”

“Our needs are met,” said the Ox. “The Wardens see to that.”

A gust of wind barreled through the camp. Anji wrinkled her nose against the smell of the Goat’s feet mixed with cooking fish. The Ox jerked her chin to the Goat, who set the skinned rabbits aside, rose, and dusted the seat of his pants, pointing the crossbow at Anji once more.

“Oh, put the piece away,” said the Ox, waving a hand. “She’s half-starved and sleep-deprived. You’re just showing off now.”

“She assassinated the damned king of Yem!”

“She’s in our custody,” said the Ox slowly, “and will be treated with the respect the damned deserve.”

A moment of tense silence passed. The Goat’s fist clenched so tight his leather gloves squeaked.

“Go,” the Ox said with a shooing motion, “I’ll watch over the big scary killer.” She ignored the Goat’s muttered curse as he dipped into the tent, then shifted back to curl her own gloved fingers around the pan’s handle, shaking the burning fish loose from the bottom. Anji studied the fish’s blackened scales, its single vacant eye staring at her. She tore her gaze away and scanned the rocky hills past the camp. Where was the Hawk? She was starting to fear the woman had actually died somewhere on the mountain.

Should have stayed put, Anji thought. We could have dug the bag up in the morning. Fought the Goat off and avoided the Ox altogether.

Stupid.

The Ox slipped a black-bladed dagger from her boot and cut into the fish, divvying a portion onto one of the flatter stones near Anji’s foot. Glancing sunward with squinted eyes, she bowed her head over the clump of flesh still crackling as she held the pan.

Beneath your blazing eye, we shine,

on your divine intent, we dine,

with your decree, in light of thee,

this feast we take, by your design.

Anji stared at her portion of burnt fish. Even in her starved state, she could hardly call it a feast.