Bai splashed through the shallows and jogged up the slope, Nallo limping behind. He recognized the grim look on Bai’s face.

“Get moving.” She slung the rope over the packhorse’s neck, fixing it to the panniers. “Kesh, put the girl in the basket, and tie the boy up on the mare. Nallo, you’ll ride the gelding. Avisha, you’ll either have to leave the wash-tub or carry it at the pace we’ll set. There’s something coming into town. I want everyone out of sight before it gets to the riverbank and spots us. Move! I’ll meet you.” She settled the ginnies into the sling tied to her saddle.

Nallo mounted awkwardly, stomach over the saddle, then pumping her legs until she got the left one over. Thanks to the gods, the horse remained quiescent despite her obvious lack of experience. Swearing under his breath, Keshad lashed the horses into a line and set out at a brisk pace. Avisha hurried after, lugging the washtub. On the mare, Jerad was grinning at the ginnies.

As Bai crossed the river back into town, all Kesh could think of was his old friends Rabbit, Twist, and Pehar, the worst companions a man might fear to have. He hoped they were all dead now, but he was sure they weren’t. How anyone could defeat the army that had been descending on Olossi he couldn’t imagine, which was why he and Bai had left and more honorable or foolhardy people had stayed behind. Like she was doing now. The road cut into the woodland, and he lost sight of the far shore.

“What about your sister?” said Avisha with an anxious look.

“Shut up. Keep moving.”

No one spoke as they strode along. For the longest time he just walked, thoughts shut down. The horses were obedient, the children quiet, the girl steady.

After a long time he heard hurried footsteps pattering on the earth, coming up from behind. He drew his sword. Avisha started to cry.

But it was Bai, loping like a wolf chasing prey. She was wiping her hands on a scrap of cloth, and although she threw away the cloth before she reached them, he was sure it was bloody.

10

Nallo knew the tales, how the persistent, fortunate, clever child fought past obstacles and won through to a good life in the end. But she’d never believed in them. She’d watched three older brothers die, too weakened with diarrhea to do more than stare mutely at those tending them. She’d been sent to Old Cross market with her uncle and littlest niece, both girls meant for debt slavery, but although her little niece’s labor had been bought up quickly, not one soul had bid on Nallo. Too thin, too sour-looking, too tall, too old, not pretty. There were plenty of desperate folk on the roads, farms failing, laborers out of work, too many children and not enough food to feed them all. The folk who could afford to purchase the labor of those unfortunate enough to be selling had the leisure to be choosy.