Nyx peered at him. “Who are we talking about now? Those bloody-minded sisters, or you?”

Eshe shrugged.

“Listen,” Nyx said. “Don’t let that little honey pot tell you what you are. You make who you are. It’s for nobody else to decide. Understand? If I learned any damn fucking thing in my life, it’s that. Got it?”

“Sure,” he said, but he was staring at the ground, not at her.

“Good. That’s a bunch of catshit, letting people tell you who you are. Who do you want to be? Come on—who?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Then you better start knowing, and soon. Because until you know what you want to be, other people are just going to keep trying to make you into something useful for them.”

“Nyx?” Ahmed said.

Nyx started. She hated it when they snuck up on her. Made her feel old.

“What now?”

Ahmed wiped his bloody hands on his trousers. A swarm of red mites clustered on a brownish spot just above his knee.

“She’s ready,” he said.

“Can she walk?”

“Does she need to?”

“Teach me to agree on a magician like Eskander who can’t hold her wormy little tongue.” She stood, dusted her trousers.

Ahmed made a strangled sound. He turned away and coughed.

“God, don’t you get fucked on me too,” Nyx said.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Then let’s go have some more fun,” Nyx said, and walked toward the forward bakkie.

“I had a trench commander tell me that once,” Ahmed said, following her, “right before a burst blew her to pieces. Cleaned her guts out of my clothes for weeks.”

“Charming,” Nyx said. “You chat up a lot of women with that line?”

“I… What?”

“You’ll get used to it,” Eshe said.

Ahmed shook his head and hung back to speak to Kage.

Eshe walked with Nyx to the lead bakkie. “What did Suha used to say? You always did go soft as old cheese for the pretty ones?”

“I remember it was you always getting into trouble with pretty girls. How often did I drag you out of some mad woman’s bed after too much to drink, huh? More kick than a cat in heat.”

“Let’s just go,” Eshe said as his face began to flush.

Nyx banged on the bakkie’s hood. “All right, folks. Let’s go rescue some guy in distress.”

That night, they camped outside a bug juice station, huddled just outside the comforting lights of the parking area. Eshe had first watch. He counted two bakkies and a cat-pulled cart come in after dark. That was it.

When he hit his four-hour shift, Eshe turned back to camp to tell Ahmed it was his turn. Ahmed was still passed out, one arm around the scattergun Nyx had issued him. And Nyx was nowhere to be seen.