After about fifteen seconds, her chest rose and fell with a single breath. The fingers of her right hand twitched.

She was alive.

Like floodwater shattering a dam, the world rushed back in.

“No, no,” one of the bandits said loudly, and Ayla tore her gaze from Crier. Don’t forget where you are, idiot. “No,” he said again, gesturing with a flask, metal catching the light; Ayla realized he’d been drinking. Had they all been drinking, the ones who’d remained here at camp instead of attacking Ayla’s party? “I tell you, the hair never goes for much. It’s the inner workings everybody’s after. That’s where the coin is.”

Hidden in the shadows, Ayla listened.

Her eyes found Crier again. She couldn’t look away.

“Slice ’em open and salvage everything you can get, that’s what we do. You know what their guts are made of?” He didn’t wait for a response from the others. “Maker’s iron. Black magick, that. Iron that moves and breathes. The bones, too, reinforced with that alchem—alchemized iron. Don’t ask me how it works. But I tell you, a single Automa knucklebone’ll sell for ten silver queenscoins.”

“Ten silver—?” one of the others repeated, incredulous. “For a single knucklebone?” She looked over at Crier, expression almost hungry. “Goddess, what’ll we get for a whole damn skeleton?”

Well, thought Ayla. That’s that, then.

She took a deep breath, put on a scared face, and stumbled forward, taking care to stomp loudly on the dry leaves blanketing the forest floor. The bandits leaped to their feet, spinning to face the forest, weapons drawn. Two crossbows, one nasty-looking serrated dagger.

Ayla pitched her voice high and sweet. “Help,” she said. “Please, is someone there?”

“Show yourself,” one of the bandits called out. The one who had been curious about the going price of Crier’s skeleton.

“I’m unarmed,” Ayla said, and slipped out of the shadows, into the clearing. Eyes wide. Arms wrapped around herself, shoulders hunched in. She was already small; she wanted to look smaller. “Please. I need help.”

“What’re you doing out here, girl?” said the skeleton bandit.

“My horse spooked,” Ayla said, throwing in a sniffle. “I fell off and it ran away. I tried to find a road, but I got lost. I’ve been wandering for hours.”

Both crossbows lowered an inch.

“Please,” she said. “I’m so cold.”

“Warm yourself, then,” said the second bandit, sheathing his dagger. The other two lowered their crossbows completely, making a space for Ayla at the fire.

She made a show of sagging with relief. “Thank you. Goddess with you.” Halfway to the fire, she stopped in her tracks and gasped, pretending to notice Crier for the first time. “Wh-who is that?”

“The most generous leech you’ll ever meet,” said the skeleton bandit. “She’ll be buying my drinks for the next year!”

The others laughed, coarse and scratchy as a donkey’s fur.

“Can I look?” Ayla asked, trying to sound nervous, morbidly curious. “I never saw a leech in chains before.”