Klia’s blue-and-gold-striped tent was the largest, and distinguished by her banners flanking the doorway. The soldiers’ tents were plain white canvas and arranged in a circle around an open central space lined with cooks’ booths. Klia’s tent faced onto this circle.

In the center of the open area were several large fire pits where whole sheep were being turned on spits by the camp cooks. Mika’s mouth watered and his belly growled. It had been a long time since breakfast in Deep Harbor.

He wandered around the cooks’ booths and soon enough a plump young servant offered him a meat pie and some pieces of dried apple. Mika thanked him and walked through the tents toward the river, looking for somewhere to sit and enjoy his meal.

He walked back down the road to where a large rock stuck up from the riverbank not far from camp. Climbing onto it, Mika sat there taking in the view of the river and road winding away below him. The sun was tipping toward the western horizon, and he imagined Rhíminee and his parents under where it would come down. He’d never been any farther away from home than the Orëska House, and he felt a little scared and homesick, all by himself in this strange place without even Master Thero or Alec for company. Suddenly the meat pie didn’t taste so savory.

Just then he heard the rattle of falling stone and turned to find a skinny young boy about his own age standing across the road from where he sat, staring at him. He was dirty and dressed in a rough tunic and sandals; the long black hair that hung past his shoulders looked like it hadn’t been combed in days.

“Who are you?” Mika asked, cheered at the prospect of a potential companion.

The other boy gave him a startled look, then crossed the road and stood at the base of the stone, looking up at Mika with his head cocked to one side. He had brown eyes, and his skin was tanned dark from being out in the sun.

“Hello. I’m Mika of Rhíminee. What’s your name?”

The boy just touched his throat and shook his head.

“You can’t talk? You’re a mute?” Mika put a hand over his own mouth.

The boy nodded and grinned, then waved for Mika to come down and join him.

Mika slid off the stone and offered the other boy a piece of dried apple. “You look hungry.”

The silent one shook his head and waved Mika toward the riverbank. Mika wanted to go, but felt a little guilty. Master Thero hadn’t exactly said he couldn’t leave the camp, just that he couldn’t go into Menosi. Promising himself he wouldn’t go very far, he followed.