Johnis decided he had no alternative but to bide his time. His eyes were not fooling him—he knew that much. Something was very wrong—he knew that as well. But for the moment he could only follow these insolent thugs.

“I heard about your mother,” Silvie said, casting him that same frozen look. “The Horde ball. Losing someone so close can do terrible things to a person.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Johnis said.

“I don’t mean it in a cruel way. It’s just that my father and mother were both killed by the Horde. I understand how it feels. I left a life of study, destined for the priesthood, on account of it.”

Johnis felt a pang of empathy for her. The brightest from each forest were selected for special training to teach others the ways of life. Science, arts, religion, history—everything but war. She’d taken up fighting only after her parents were killed.

“How did it happen?”

“My mother was taken in battle four years ago,” Silvie said. “My father went after her and they killed him as well. Now they’ll take me, but not before I take a hundred of them.”

“Only four years? You look like you were born with a knife in your hand.”

She looked at him, unsure.

“I mean that in a good way, of course,” Johnis said. “You learn fast.”

She shrugged. “Be the best at what you do, my father used to say. Billos lost his mother and Darsal her father. Both to the Horde. In this way we’re all the same.”

“Losing someone to the Horde doesn’t make you worthy to lead,” Billos said.

Darsal’s jaw flexed. “What good is a father if he’s off to war his whole life?”

“I’m sorry you feel no respect for the dead,” Silvie said. “But I do.”

Darsal spit to one side. There is indeed a story here, Johnis thought. Darsal drew her motivation from hate, Silvie from revenge. Either way, they were finally talking, and for that Johnis was grateful.

They were halfway across the large clearing and the shrieks on each side now came from dozens of Shataiki, assuming that’s what they really were. For this, Johnis was far less grateful.

But he couldn’t return to the subject, not yet. He had to prod them with something else if he wanted to keep them talking.

“I realize that my being here is a complete fluke,” Johnis said, “and I respect your frustration. I’m a lover and a poet, not a fighter, although I’m better with a sword than you might think. Either way, I want to thank each of you for being selected. I know it means you’ll all probably be dead within the month. But you’re the best in the forests.”

“Shut your yapper, Scrapper,” Billos said.