On the way to the baths, he asked her, “Aren’t you worried about making the nobles mad at you?”

“They owe me far too much money to raise their fists at me, Master Androkles, even if local custom would allow them to do me any harm in my own house,” she explained. Androkles looked at her sideways, wondering just how wealthy she was. An inn like hers didn’t come cheaply, that was sure.

This time, four servants awaited them at the bath. One young woman each for Garbi and Wolfscar, and two young men for Androkles. As the youths performed their duties, one of them quietly remarked, “I wish I had a body like this.”

Androkles smirked and said, “Where I come from, a man’s body should reflect the beauty of the gods. A man with skinny arms or legs just looks lazy to my eyes. Embarrassing.”

“Certainly, Master Androkles. Are you all born like that?” he asked shyly.

“Ha! No, boy. We have something called Gymnasium. It’s a large building or open area in each City, usually more than one, where every man of value is expected to train his body. Many of the women do something similar, but in a separate place. If we let the women watch us train, society would fall apart overnight. I bet they can imagine why,” he said with a nod at the serving women and a subtle grin. The one cleaning Garbi rolled her eyes, and the one cleaning Wolfscar blushed and turned her head. Androkles laughed.

“Soldiers have a set of exercises we do every morning because we can’t take the Gymnasium on the road. I haven’t been as diligent as I should have, but it’d take me a month of slacking before I start looking like I belong here,” he said.

When everyone was finally clean and prepared for the day, the young men coyly waited until the young women were out of earshot, then one of them asked Androkles, “Can you show us the exercises you do every morning?”

“We, well, we want the women to look at us like they look at you,” said the other one.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” said one.

“Eighteen,” said the other.

“Very well. Meet me in the courtyard tomorrow morning, before the first meal. Come nude so we can exercise like civilized men,” said Androkles. That statement made both youths blush uncomfortably, and after thinking for a moment, Androkles said, “On second thought, Gotzone couldn’t keep the girls from watching us, could she? Nudity won’t do. Wear loincloths, and be ready for punishment. It’s not easy, and I’ll expect you to keep up. You may bring friends, if you like, but no one younger than thirteen. Do what you need to do to get permission from your master,” he said, tying his coin purse inside his tunic.

“Thank you, Master Androkles,” they said. The older one left with a nod, and the younger one asked, “May I summon music for you in the common room, or would you perhaps like some wine? My master desires to meet every need.”

The fairy, as if in reply, suddenly zipped away toward a tree, returning with a late moth in his hands. Androkles and the servant watched with a sort of intrigued disgust as he cheerfully tore the wings off. “I like these ones!” he said, biting it in half. It made Androkles feel somewhat ill.

The servant, however, said, “Do you eat bugs?”

Wolfscar chewed and swallowed contentedly, then said, “I used to only eat bugs, but now I eat other things, too. But I still like bugs. At least the good ones.” He then ate the other half of the moth.

“I think I know where you could find more,” said the servant. “In the larder, where we keep the food.”

Androkles laughed out loud. “Make him earn his keep, huh? Not a bad idea!”

“I simply wish to please my master’s guests,” said the servant mischievously.

Androkles replied, “Of course you do. Go find him something to use for a spear. Wolfscar, it’s time to show us what you’re made of.”

The servant left at a run again. Gotzone truly trained them well. Androkles wondered if they were servants, or merely slaves, but he supposed it didn’t make any difference to him. “He’s getting me a spear?” asked the fairy.

Androkles nodded. Wolfscar flew halfway to the door then back to Androkles several times, each time with a new question. “Will it be sharp?”

“Probably.”

“Can I keep it?”

“Probably.”

“I’m going to use it to hunt bugs?”

“That’s the idea.”

After a time, the young man returned, brandishing a thin, sharp leatherworking needle, as tall as the fairy was. The servant held the little spear in his open palm and the fairy landed on his fingertips, rubbing his hands together. After ceremoniously picking it up, he gravely bowed to the servant, who politely returned the bow. Then the fairy leaped into the air and flew overheard in circles as fast as he could go, holding the spear out in front of him, loudly celebrating with an amusing mixture of battleshout and joyous laughter.

Then he floated down to Garbi, saying “Princess, look! I got a spear. Look at it, Garbi!” He tried patting her on the nose, but to no avail. She didn’t react. After a moment, he gave up and hovered about a foot in front of Androkles’s face. “Can you teach me some things to do with it? Like how you moved it all different ways?” he asked excitedly.

Androkles pushed the fairy back a bit and said, “Watch out for my eyes, little thing.” Then, to the servant, “Go fetch my spear. I think I’ll teach him some basic attacks. And tell your master, because I bet she’ll want to see it.”

The servant returned with Androkles’s spear and Gotzone gliding gracefully behind him. Androkles spent several minutes teaching Wolfscar, who stood on a round table near one of the benches in the courtyard, how to hold the spear properly to stab someone, explaining how to keep his wrists and feet to channel the most strength into the spearhead. Wolfscar learned with an air of seriousness that was intensely comical, but no one laughed at him, at least not out loud. Gotzone covered her smile with her hand and blushed, unable to look away. She had a look on her face like she was seeing kittens playing for the first time.

Once Wolfscar had a few basic movements down, Androkles decided to teach him how to do a proper warshout as well, mostly to amuse his gracious host. Wolfscar mimicked him perfectly, although it sounded like a bird mimicking a bear. Gotzone put her hand over her heart and feigned a gasp of terror, which encouraged the fairy greatly.

“Come on, little one. It’s time to test your new skills,” said Androkles. “Where is the larder?”

Gotzone led them to an underground room behind the kitchen, pleasantly cool and dry. Every bit of space contained a cupboard or barrel full of all manner of food, from grain to cheese to meat. Wolfscar darted around the room looking at everything. When he got too close to one of the cheeses, Androkles sternly told him, “Don’t take little bites out of everything. You’re here to keep the food safe from bugs.”

Wolfscar nodded, then began hunting around the room while the others cheered him on. After a few minutes, he had five fat cockroaches skewered on his spear and a look of unabashed pride on his face. “Look how many I caught! I bet you couldn’t do this much!” he boasted.

Gotzone clapped and said, “Well done! You are surely as noble a hunter as I have ever seen, Wolfscar. Would you like to have them roasted and buttered?”

“The bugs?” the fairy asked. “Cook them like human food? Would they taste good?”

“I am certain we could improve the taste with herbs and fat. Ganix, take the spoils from his spear and find the cook. Tell him I want them prepared immediately, and to the best of his ability, for our little guest. Then fetch an appropriate piece of cloth for our guest, so he may clean his spear.”

“At once,” replied the young man. He slid the cockroaches from Wolfscar’s needle into his palm, doing a very good job of not turning green, and then darted from the room.

Gotzone led them back into the courtyard, explaining that the common room was still full of nobles and merchants who wanted Androkles to come visit them. “Although you are free to go where you like, of course, I thought you might enjoy more quiet and relaxation before you entertain us this evening with stories of your journeys. I am expecting a far bigger crowd tonight, in fact. I have more than half my servants scouring the markets for food and wine today.”

He sat down on a bench, placing Garbi beside him. Wolfscar flew into the treetops to play or hunt or something. Androkles said, “Oh, I’ll keep them entertained, don’t worry about that. I think I could just sit and point at the fairy, and they’d be content. It makes me wish I’d taken the cyclops’s head, though, so I could sit and point at that instead. Then they’d all be sending me gifts instead of bribes.” Remembering Flower and Pepper, and added, “Sometimes it feels like I’m assembling a menagerie.”

“Kelthuars have more greed than honor, as you have rightly seen. It makes them easy for me to do business with. I owe my fortune to their scheming, and my ability to outwit them. Certainly, if you chose to stay, you would have the same experience, honored master,” she said.

“I have no patience for it. And the scars make it hard for anyone not to get nervous when I flatter them. And sometimes, I get the feeling they think my wits are diluted because I’m twice their size. Della always gave me that look,” Androkles said. Then, in a moment of self-realization, he scowled at the ground. This was none of her business.

“Master Androkles, to my eyes, you are the very picture of honor. You remind me of my own noble father, although he was not so tall,” she said, sitting down next to him. She relaxed and crossed her legs, putting her arm over the backrest in a distinctly less dignified posture than he was used to seeing from her. “But I know what you mean. Half the time, I get fat old men who think they can jiggle a purse and get me into their bed. The other half are amazed I can even read. And you might have a face that makes people nervous, Master Androkles, but I have a face that makes everyone want to tell me their problems. At length.”

She sighed and rubbed her neck. Androkles found himself somewhat disconcerted by her candor. “I always nod and smile and lead them on, though, because that’s how I get their money. But I want you to know that my respect for you is real, Master Androkles. I’m being honest with you in that regard. You’re a uniquely honorable man, and I am honored to have you here. Even if all these sons of goats in the shape of Kelthuars don’t realize it. I respect you because despite everything you’ve accomplished, you’re still gentle as a nurse with little Garbi there, and she’s not even yours.”

“I don’t have a choice. I gave my oath that I’d see her safe into the arms of someone who would take care of her, and that’s all,” he explained. Being praised for being nice could make a man uncomfortable.

“Yes, and you’ve said you have another oath that brought you out here in the first place. Nine men in ten, and by the gods probably seven women in ten, in your situation, would sell her to a whorehouse for thirty silver and move on. But you are a just man. You have room in your heart for mercy and kindness for the weak, and you never waver from your word.”

“I fear you’re mistaking me. I simply have to keep my oath, and then I’ll move on and leave her behind.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will. But you’re keeping the spirit of the oath you made, and not just the words. You are not backing down in the slightest from what you promised, even though it’s contrary to your interests.”

“A man of my heritage keeps his word. That’s all,” he said grumpily.

“Then why do you keep her within arm’s reach at all times? And you’re so gentle with her, and patient with the fairy. Why is that, if you’re not the man I’m describing?”

Why was this conversation even happening? Where had all this come from? He found himself explaining, “That’s because… Well, you remember how when I found her, she was just a normal little girl, chatty and energetic and everything? I still remember that, how precious she was. I haven’t grown affectionate for her like I did with, well, other children, once. Haven’t known her long enough, and I’m being more careful this time. But I don’t want to see her come to harm, either. That’d be like crushing a flower for no reason. Or killing a songbird just to test a sling,” he said. “But all of this is just because the gods are playing games with me. My fortune is gone and all I’m finding in the road is one obstacle after the other, the Path-clearer be damned.”

Gotzone looked away, deep in thought. After a moment of quiet, she said, “Master Androkles, I have never believed the gods are cruel. There are a few exceptions, of course, like that cursed Wildmother goddess we have here; but on the whole, the great ones are kind. Perhaps the gods are being kinder than you realize and trying to give you what you really wanted all along. To be strong is to have the power to take what you truly want, and I have no doubt you’re strong enough. Maybe you just don’t know what you truly want.”

“Even if…” he sighed, then thought about how to say this. “I gave my oath to restore my household. It’s complicated, but that’s the idea. That is what I truly want. I have to keep that oath, and to do it, I have to continue on. In fact, I’ve thought ten times today already how I’d rather be on the road, as nice as it is here. And even if I wanted to keep a bunch of children and a woman, and by the way I don’t mean you, no offense; but even if I wanted to keep them all, and I’m not saying I do, there’s no way I could bring them with me. If the gods wanted to help me, they’d speed me along, not curse me with every reason to stop moving forward. But even with the gods against me, I’m going to keep moving. A man who breaks oaths is not worth remembering.” He felt like he was babbling, but it was hard to explain. He scowled.

“Master Androkles, I’m grateful that you felt you could share this with me. My respect for you has only grown. Your will is unbreakable, and your arm overwhelming. I have never met a stronger man, in spirit or body. Just think about this: If you wanted to bring them with you, if that’s what you truly wanted and you set your mind on it, neither gods nor men could stop you.”

“Well, they’re stopping me now,” he said. “I’m stuck here until I find a place for her.”

“Perhaps. Their ways are difficult to discern,” she said.

Androkles leaned forward and rested his chin in his hand, deep in thought. One thing he couldn’t decide was whether Gotzone was subtle and clever in getting him to talk, or if he had become so weary in his heart that he had done just what she complained about—tell her all his problems. They said that having children changed a man. Smoothed his rough edges. Was that happening to him, just from being around a few for a couple weeks? If so, he really needed to get moving.

It didn’t seem he was growing weaker. He’d killed a cyclops, after all. And a few days ago in Basket, his killing intent had been as strong as ever. As strong as when he saw the Hewer all those years ago. But he couldn’t deny that in some way, he was different now. Maybe it was simply that children were amusing, and they were cheering him up, in much the way that regular beer would keep him merry.

And he wasn’t treating the children any differently than he treated his brothers-in-arms. He tended their wounds and kept them safe when they needed it. Taught them not to be idiots. So why did it feel different? Was it because brothers were peers, and children were helpless property? If he needed companionship, a fellow fighting man would be a lot more useful than a pair of skinny nine-year-old Skythander kits, or a little girl with a broken spirit and a fairy.

Gotzone gave him a gentle, kind look, then stood and said, “Master Androkles, pardon me for drawing you into such a conversation. Sometimes a guest from the Glories reminds me of my father, and I end up treating him like a brother instead of a patron.”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t mind at all. You’ve given me something to think about. Thank you,” he said.

Gotzone smiled and nodded, then left him to ponder in quiet.

A short time later, a servant appeared with a very small silver platter, upon which he presented five roasted and seasoned cockroaches. “Master Androkles, for your fairy,” he said, looking around.

Androkles stood and looked around, wondering where the little thing had gone. “Wolfscar! Come here!” he shouted.

The fairy had been playing in the treetops, and he came plummeting to land on Androkles’s shoulder. Androkles pointed at the platter and said, “Those are for you,”

The little fairy flew over and looked at the food, fingertip in his mouth as he thought for a moment. Then he carefully picked one up with both hands and carefully took a small bite. Then his eyes widened and he took a much bigger bite, as much as he could fit in his mouth. He closed his eyes with a half-smile as he chewed. Once he swallowed the bite he said, “This is so good! I like them like this. Can I eat them all? Or are you going to eat one?”

“They’re all yours, little one,” said Androkles, slightly disgusted.

Wolfscar ate it as quickly as he could manage, then picked up another with the explanation, “These are really good!” Then he shoved so much of it in at once that his cheeks bulged like a squirrel’s.

"Wolfscar likes to eat bugs,” said Garbi.

It took Androkles a moment to realize what had just happened, but when he did, a shock of hope and surprise left him feeling almost lightheaded. She still sat there passively, gazing at nothing, he was certain he heard her talk.

“Garbi, girl, are you all right now?” he asked.

She didn’t respond. What on earth had happened? Was she recovering? He shook her shoulder, but she showed no sign of awareness. “Garbi, stand up.” She stood. “Sit back down.” She sat. She was still broken. Could children recover from things like this?