The mosquitoes were particularly annoying. Buzzing around Rudiger, around the horses. Everywhere. On the best of days, there were a lot of them, but today, they were out in double force. It was the humidity. Fisvin could be like this too. Whenever it got humid, the mosquitoes came out to party. And the humidity today was horrible. There were dark clouds to the east, though, and maybe the storm they brought would bring some relief. It probably wouldn’t last long, but it would be something.


    Still, mosquitoes aside, he’d been enjoying the weather the last couple months. It reminded him of home, something he’d found himself thinking a lot about recently. Maybe it was the staying in one spot. He’d been travelling for so long now—and so rarely with any real destination in mind—that he almost never had time to think of home. Staying in one place for two months now had given him time for reflection.


    No, it was more than just staying in one spot. It was a whole mixture of unrelated things. He’d travelled by himself a lot, but had never felt alone. Now, he had people to interact with regularly, but loneliness was all he felt. No Borisin. No Zandrue now. And Jorvan had to stay hidden, so Rudiger only saw him for brief periods of time. Even when he’d travelled alone, he’d had Borisin with him.


    It had been over two months since they’d gotten over the wall and into Ninifin. Two months since Eleuia had taken Borisin, since Borisin had talked to her. Rudiger still wasn’t certain whether to be amazed or jealous. Not that it mattered really. He just wanted Borisin around again. As annoying as that horse could be, Rudiger couldn’t stand being without him.


    “You’re not hiding a secret ability to talk to me, are you?” he asked Xoco, who had come to graze near him.


    Better to think of home and his parents. Of course, there was no way she could have known the day she’d chosen to take off without explanation was the anniversary—three years to the day—of the day he’d come home to find his parents murdered. His mother lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, her throat slashed. His father hanging from a hook that had been slammed into their bedroom door. The house was a mess, wardrobes and desks ransacked, furniture overturned, holes smashed in walls, but nothing missing as best Rudiger could tell. And no one willing to do anything about it, either.


    No, there was no way Zandrue could have known that. It was a ridiculous coincidence, but it didn’t soften the blow. The terrible irony was, he’d been coming to talk to her about his parents. Knowing the anniversary was approaching and thinking about them more than usual, he’d begun to wonder if their deaths were somehow linked to everything he, Zandrue, and the others had been going through. It certainly seemed a strong possibility his parents’ killers had been after Slay. It would have been the first time in a long time he’d spoken more than the briefest words about his parents. And she’d told him she was leaving.


    Gods damn it, he was thinking about her again. He’d spent the last few nights crying himself to sleep; he wasn’t about to do that again.


    The storm clouds were getting closer and the wind was picking up. Lightning flashed in the direction of the Jaguar, and he wondered if he should take the horses in. They hadn’t been out long and probably wouldn’t want to go in just yet. He didn’t relish the idea of standing in the storm, though, especially if it wasn’t a quick one. A short one might be refreshing. A long one...


    “Not for long,” Zandrue said. She was shoving articles of clothing into her bag. “A week. Maybe ten days.”


    “Oh come on. What’s up? I’ll come with you. Help out. Be nice to move about a bit.”


    She went back to tying her bag. “It’s nice of you to offer, but there’s nothing you can do. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”


    “At least give me a little hint what you’re up to.”


    “Where?”


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    “No, I don’t know. We’re stuck in this gods-forsaken country, can’t go anywhere, can barely interact with other people. How the hell can you have business to take care of?”


    “I have other things going on, okay? Let’s just leave it at that.”


    “I’m not throwing it away. I’m coming back. Look, just trust me, okay?”


    “Owe you?”


    “I’ve had enough of this interrogation.”


    She had stumbled the day before, too, out of the blue with no apparent reason. She’d said it was just a passing dizziness, and he hadn’t thought much more of it at the time. “I just want to help,” he said. “Know you’re okay.”


    She growled—actually growled, like a dog—opened the door, and walked out.


    That had been three days ago. Now he just wasn’t thinking of her—except he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He doubted she really meant the whole thing about not coming back. That was her temper speaking. But it didn’t matter. Things wouldn’t be the same when she came back. She didn’t trust him. And he was starting to understand why Jorvan had such a hard time trusting her.


    “Thank you,” Rudiger told her. He still struggled with Ninifin, but he was getting better at the language. “I know she doesn’t deserve it, but I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”


    “She definitely doesn’t deserve it,” the old woman said. “I’m covering for her for your sake and for mine. I have put my life on the line for her, and she’s quite possibly ruined it all. The inspection committee was prepared to see her. Now, it will take months before they agree to another chance, if they ever agree at all. When she comes back, I will make her regret the day her father fucked her unfortunate mother.”


    Gods, sometimes being in love wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.


    The storm only lasted a half hour or so before the winds and rain calmed down, and the sun came out again. Rudiger spent the remainder of the afternoon cleaning and brushing the horses, and trying not to think of Zandrue or Borisin.


    After a quiet dinner with Fra-Mecatl and Fra-Tepeu, he went to the cellar to see Jorvan. The Isyar was kneeling on the floor, face turned to the ceiling, eyes closed. Rudiger waited while he finished his prayers or meditation—as Rudiger understood it, Jorvan could be doing either or both of those.


    Both Fra-Mecatl and Fra-Tepeu accepted that Isyar were not the creatures of evil their religion made them out to be. Fra-Mecatl even argued all references to Isyar in the religious texts were singular, referring only to the Dragon’s consort. However, both she and Fra-Tepeu still had a lifetime’s worth of prejudices to overcome, so they tended to stay away from Jorvan. Fra-Mecatl must have thought it very important to tell him herself and not wait for Rudiger to do it.


    “We’re not suggesting they do,” Zandrue had said. “Just that there are Darkers in Ninifin.”


    It was what they usually ended up talking about. More precisely, Rudiger would end up telling Jorvan what the horses had been up to that day while the Isyar just listened. There usually wasn’t anything else to talk about. There was something else today, but Rudiger wasn’t prepared to talk about her. So he told Jorvan of the horses again.