The bandit leader didn’t waste the opportunity; she attacked.

Janel moved fast, jumping up and to the side. She caught the tree limb as it came down and swatted the sickle away, sending the ersatz weapon flying. Then Janel reversed the branch and slammed it down on her opponent’s leg, stretched out to deliver a hammer-like kick.

A loud crack split the air, followed by the bandit’s scream.

The woman’s leg bent in a way legs aren’t supposed to bend. She fell to the ground, sobbing.

Janel threw down the tree branch.

“Oh no,” she said. “I didn’t mean—” She blinked and stepped back. “Brother Qown! Help us!”

He ran forward. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me get my bag…”

The largest bandit took in the scene and frowned, crossing his hands over his chest. “That’s not how I figured this would go at all.”

Next to him, Mare Dorna held out a hand to gather her winnings.

2: A ROTTED FRUIT

Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Two days since Xaltorath started a Hellmarch in the Capital

Brother Qown paused, his voice breaking.

“Tea might soothe your throat better than cider,” Janel said.

The priest nodded. “You’re right. I’ll go check the kitchen.” He gave Kihrin a polite nod as he passed.

The resulting silence left Kihrin and Janel staring at each other.

Kihrin asked, “Did that really happen?”

“What? Qown checking to see if there’s tea?” She rested her chin on a hand, grinned at him when he rolled his eyes. “Oh, you mean bandits attacking us.”

Kihrin returned her smile. “No, I meant when you ripped the branch off that tree.”

“Yes. I suppose that part is hard to believe.”

Kihrin set his upishiarral aside. “The way you handled the stable door—I can’t do that. My friend Star can’t do that. We both tried. But you closed and barred the front door like it was made from sugar floss and compliments.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then perhaps that story is true.”

“Why don’t you tell this tale instead of Qown? Nice work on having your own chronicler, by the way—but I doubt his version is unbiased.”

“And telling it from my viewpoint would be different? At least he remembered to document our travels. I was too distracted.”

“Maybe I’d just prefer to hear it from you.”

Their eyes met again.

Janel’s mouth twitched. “Answer a curiosity for me. Stallions or mares?”

Kihrin blinked. “What?”

She leaned forward, mirroring his position at the table. “Do you run with stallions? Or mares?”

“I’ve never put any thought into my horse’s gender—” He stopped. “But you’re not talking about horses, are you?”

“Not in the least,” she said. “There’s a trap in there for people who don’t understand our ways.”

“How do you mean?”