“She won’t say.”

“Then we don’t have answers, do we, Private?”

“I ain’t started cutting, yet.”

“So you’re starting with her tongue?”

“Gotta start somewhere.”

There was a pause. For a second Mahlia thought there would be violence between them, but then the lieutenant just laughed. He laughed and Soa grinned, and she didn’t know if it was all a joke, or if they were going to start cutting, or if it was a game, or if this was just the beginning of the cat and mouse that would still end with her blood in the dirt.

The lieutenant shone a tiny hand-cranked LED light in her eyes. Bright and painful. She squinted. He lowered the light a little and leaned close to study her with his gray bloodshot eyes. She guessed he might be in his late twenties. Experienced. Twice as old as some of his troops. A real Fates-playing old war dog.

“I’ll be damned,” he said.

Soa was nodding. “Castoff, right?”

Mahlia summoned her voice. “I ain’t Chinese. I’m Drowned Cities.”

The lieutenant pinched her cheeks between clawed fingers. Turned her head this way and that while his troops kept her from struggling.

“Half,” he said. “For sure, you’re half. And you’re the right age, all right. Some peacekeeper nailed your old lady, left you behind.” He cocked his head. “Don’t got much use for collaborators.”

His gaze went to the village. “Don’t got much use for places that keep collaborators, either. Someone needs a lesson.”

“Leave her alone!”

At the voice, Mahlia’s knees almost buckled with relief. Doctor Mahfouz was pushing between the soldier boys. Familiar salt-and-pepper beard, broken eyeglasses tied together with bits of kudzu fiber that he had woven himself. Short and slender in comparison to some of the soldier boys. Nut-brown skin and gentle eyes and pure determination as he forced past the soldier boys, ignoring the danger he was in. It was as if he didn’t even notice that he was surrounded by boys with guns and scars and a hunger for violence.

But they noticed him, all right. One of them grabbed him. “Slow down, doctor man. Traitors ain’t your business. You get back to doctoring.”

Doctor Mahfouz didn’t even slow. He just turned to the lieutenant, speaking with absolute authority.

“Lieutenant Sayle, that girl is my assistant, she is no traitor, and if you want your soldier to live, I need her help. Now leave her alone. We deal in healing and peace, here. If you want our best efforts, you will do the same. Those are my rules, in my house. We don’t deal in bloodshed here.”

The lieutenant’s gaze went from Doctor Mahfouz to Mahlia.

“That right?” he asked her. “You know doctoring? Got some Chinese medicine up your sleeve? Peacekeeper fix-me-ups?”