“Make a new friend, Sparrow?” Spud-Bar asks, using the name under which the Elder Company has adopted Evie. “I’ve warned you about taking in strays.”

“He’s an old friend,” Evie assures the armorist.

Spud-Bar grunts. “This ain’t much of a place for reunions, sorry to say.”

“In this one case it’s the best of places.”

Evie bends at the knees, sinking down to help Brio in lowering himself to the mostly dead grass.

“That don’t look good,” Spud-Bar remarks, eyes drifting to Brio’s leg wound.

“It’s not,” Evie says bluntly. “But I’ve tended to it the best I know how.”

“You really do have a deep bag of skills fer a vagrant, don’t ya?”

“When do you return to the Capitol?” Evie asks.

“I leave in the morning,” Spud-Bar answers. “It’s been a busy few days fer the Savages on the front. Need to replenish the ranks. We’ll barely have time to break ’em in and get ’em coined, from the look.”

“I need you to take something back to the Capitol for me.”

The armorist shakes their head. “Against the rules.”

“This is important, Spud-Bar. This may be the most important thing you ever do.”

The spit-dampened surface of the whetstone pauses halfway over the crescent of the shoddy ax’s poorly smithed blade.

The armorist looks up at Evie, heavy, thick brows hung low over dark eyes. “I suppose you’d be askin’ me to take him? Is that it? Get him to a surgeon?”

Evie shakes her head. “He’s my responsibility. I only need you to carry a message to a Gen in the Capitol. It’s a short message, one you can carry in your head. It needn’t even be put to parchment.”

Spud-Bar frowns. “Why would you wanna make my life difficult? Haven’t I been good to you since we met?”

“You have,” Evie assures the armorist, sincerely. “Because you’re a good person, too fine a person to be responsible for the monstrosity that’s been created here with this Legion. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“I’m a simple sort, Sparrow, and you’re losin’ me in a fog here.”

Evie looks at Brio. “Tell my friend who you are.”

“My name is Brio Alania, leader of Gen Stalbraid,” he says. “I’m the pleader for the Bottoms in the Capitol.”

“Now tell Spud-Bar what you did,” she urges him.

“If you mean what law I broke, then nothing. I did nothing.”

Spud-Bar snorts, staring down at the darkened surface of the whetstone.