After the frost from a clear night, low cloud moved in, bringing drizzle. Then it took to raining in the afternoon. Now, instead of the beads of drizzle slowly seeping through their clothing, each drop penetrated the cotton immediately, biting at Llew’s skin with its cold.

An advantage of having no option but to keep moving was that at least it kept Llew somewhat warm against the damp chill even as the dark of another night set in. Their pace shackled by hunger, and Jonas’s injuries, they hadn’t found a town in which to seek help, yet. The uneven ground presented its own challenges in the dark, and Jonas was starting to make more involuntary sounds as they went. She reached out to offer comfort only to find his hand cold and clammy. She cursed under her breath. There was nothing they could do but push on through mud and clamber over rocky outcrops; just keep on moving through the night.

A little before sunrise, they approached a building backing up to the river. All was quiet. The only sign of life: the aroma of freshly baking bread – from humble kitchen or bakery. They turned at the building, heading into the town. Desperation reeled them in.

They loitered around the side of the bakery. The smell only made them hungrier, emphasizing the fact they hadn’t eaten anything substantial for more than a day. Torturous as it was, enveloped in that smell, it was also their best chance of meeting a friendly local.

The rain eased back to a shower, so they were merely soaking rather than sopping. Time ticked on and Jonas blew out and sucked in shaky breaths, hugging himself in an effort to keep warm. Llew might’ve hugged him herself, but they needed more than that. They needed somewhere warm and dry, like a living space above a bakery.

‘I’ll go in alone,’ she said. ‘If they’re hostile, I’ll get away easier and we can try the next place.’ Nothing that would smell as good as this, though.

Jonas nodded and sprayed rain from his lips as he blasted a breath between his teeth. As time went on, he struggled more and more to hide his pain and misery from Llew – or any potential threats.

They had better not be hostile.

A door opened, a bell jingled, a door closed. Perhaps a patron leaving the bakery. Llew waited a few moments, giving the customer time to leave before she peeled away to approach the entry. Steps led up to a door with a single word Llew couldn’t read above it, and a painting of a range of loaves beside. Her mouth watered. She hoped they were friendly.

She gripped the handrail and put her foot on the bottom step. The door opened, its entry bell ringing, and a young woman about Llew’s age, with a jute sack clamped under one arm and about to open an umbrella, looked down at Llew. And Llew looked up at her. There was something about the girl. She wasn’t beautiful by any stretch. Most would likely call her plain, with bland brown hair and blue eyes not unlike Llew’s. But there was something else. Didn’t matter. If she wasn’t the baker she was of no use to Llew. Just hurry on down the stairs and away, young lady.

The girl backed up, disappearing back inside. The door closed again.

Indecision froze Llew to the spot. Why had the girl returned inside? Could it be she was such a kind soul she was going to buy another loaf of bread for Llew? It seemed too good to be true, and not nearly as convincing as the idea that a description of the escaped Aenuk had been spread far and wide and right now the girl was telling the baker to contact the authorities. Or worse. What if there was a soldier taking shelter in the bakery itself?

The door opened again. Without thinking, Llew darted back around the corner of the bakery. She wiped her dripping hair out of her eyes and pressed her back against the wall. Listening.

‘What—?’ Jonas began.

‘Shh.’ Llew didn’t mean for it to sound harsh, but it did.

There was a creak that must have been the top step up to the bakery, the wet wood squeaking underfoot. Then nothing over the constant hiss of drizzle and the light breeze sweeping along the road.

Llew looked to Jonas. He needed help.

Another squeak and dull thud. Second step? Last? The girl was taking it slow. Sneaking down the stairs. Maybe planning to take Llew by surprise. Well, if she thought she had the advantage in this scenario, she had some learning coming.

One more dull thud, then soft crunches of feet on mud. Llew tensed, preparing to strike. The girl tottered into the street, her legs scuffing stiffly, sack in one hand, umbrella held up in the other, and her back to Llew. She wore a warm-looking cloak. Maybe even waterproof. But, what was she doing? Her head was to the side, her shoulders angled; her whole back seemed curved.

With her body poised to attack, Llew’s mind tumbled through thoughts of stealing the girl’s bread, and cloak, to realize she couldn’t.

The girl turned and looked directly at Llew. Again, Llew could do little more than look back. The girl shuffled closer, her body stiff, legs splayed, one foot somewhat club, mouth in a crooked grin, or grimace, Llew couldn’t tell. She reached Llew and held out her umbrella. Llew took it without even thinking. Dumbstruck, she opened her mouth to say . . . she didn’t know what. Argue? It was raining and the girl had handed her an umbrella while she dug in her sack and withdrew a loaf of bread. Llew accepted the bread. The girl’s hand swung to hover in front of her umbrella again. A bit slow, Llew handed the umbrella back and looked down at the loaf in her hand. She had bread. And she hadn’t had to steal to get it.

The girl’s hand wrapped around Llew’s on the umbrella handle; gentle, but deliberate. Nothing happened. No transfer of energy. Nothing to identify Llew as Aenuk. And nothing to heal the girl from her ailment.

The girl slid her hand up the handle, and Llew pulled her own back.

‘Th— thank you,’ Llew said, the cold forcing a stutter. Rain dripped into Llew’s mouth, making her slurp on the words. She clutched the bread to her stomach, hunched over in an attempt to keep it dry, and stepped back towards Jonas.

The girl looked past Llew and her face went slack. She took a tottering step towards them, eyes locked on Jonas, her torso swinging so far to one side Llew nearly reached out to catch her, but she swung back straight on her next step. The girl didn’t seem to notice Llew now, her focus solely on Jonas.

‘It is you, isn’t it?’ she said to Jonas before taking another look at Llew, head to foot, and managing some projection of dismissal, possibly disdain. At least that told Llew her description wasn’t well known, yet.

Llew wasn’t sure if confirming the girl’s assumptions was a good idea. Generally, admitting a weakness wasn’t, but they could hardly hide Jonas’s feverish state, nor the blood staining their clothing. Informing the girl that Llew was Aenuk might assert a certain power, but it might also mean a swift return to Turhmos’s Aenuk cells. The girl’s apparent awe at seeing Jonas was probably a good sign. There was no reason to give her reason to focus elsewhere, not yet.

‘It’s him. And he needs help.’

‘Come. My ma’s a doctor.’ The girl turned, not waiting for them to argue or agree.

Llew glared wide-eyed at the girl’s back, then offered Jonas support, and they moved off after the girl, catching up to her slowly. A doctor? Could it be that easy?

They conversed none while out in the rain, allowing Jonas and Llew to tear into the bread. Llew fought with the tough crust to tear the loaf in half. Finally splitting it, they found a creamy-colored crispy dough inside, light with air bubbles. The rain did little to spoil it, and it was delicious.

The girl led them down what must have been a main street, with business banners mounted above or beside doors. Thankfully, the rain kept most indoors, or heads bowed. Any glances at the trio were brief. Llew suspected they had their host’s physical condition to thank for that. Bad weather and a crippled companion – the world could offer worse saviors, Llew was sure; she just couldn’t think of any in the moment.

After a time, Llew realized that the occasional squeak she kept hearing was following them. Or, rather, leading them. She watched the girl closely, but the swaying cloak occluded and distracted. After watching a little longer, the flash of metal caught her eye. The girl wore some sort of contraption around each of her feet. Memories of Braph and his metal bracelet sent a shiver down Llew’s spine. They’d decided trust was necessary for now, but no matter how crippled this girl, they would have to watch her.

After several twists and turns and hobbling for some fifteen or twenty minutes, they approached one door out of three set into a long, two-storied wooden building.

A plaque attached to the wall by the door introduced: Flint and Greving. Medical Practitioners.

‘Grieving?’ Llew asked. That didn’t sound inspiring.

‘Greving.’ The girl emphasized the softer ‘e’.

Llew wasn’t entirely put at ease, but what choice did they have?

Catching the ornately swirled lever door handle with her elbow, the girl pushed the door open, contracted the umbrella and slipped it into a stand inside by a staircase. Immediately adjacent, a corridor led to the rear of the ground floor.

‘Up. Last door on the left. It’s storage now, but we can clean it up.’ The girl gestured up the stairs. ‘I need to take the bread to the kitchen. I’ll be up soon with my mother to assess you.’ Something tugged at the girl’s smile. The smile turned shy and the girl did something approaching a curtsy. ‘We will take care of you, Jonas of Quaver, but if my grandfather learns you are here, he would report you immediately.’

‘Does he live here?’ Llew asked.

The girl let her gaze rest with Jonas a little too long for Llew’s liking before shifting her attention to Llew. She glanced conspiratorially over her shoulder. ‘You’ll be safe up there.’ She glanced up the stairs. ‘My grandfather doesn’t do stairs.’ She gave them a self-congratulatory smile, somewhat deserved, since Llew was a little surprised this girl ‘did’ the stairs. She’d taken long enough on the few bakery steps.

‘What’s your name?’ Jonas peered out from between clumps of drenched hair. He and Llew were both making small puddles on the floor.

‘Elka.’ She dipped her head reverently, spoke softly.

‘Thank you, Elka,’ Jonas said.

Elka looked like Jonas had proposed to her out of the blue and all her dreams had come at once. Still smiling, she turned and rocked her way down the corridor.

‘Can you do stairs?’ Llew turned to Jonas.

‘Seems I don’t have much of a choice.’

With Llew’s shoulder hooked under Jonas’s arm, and her a half step behind, they made it slowly, if not silently, up the stairs over a background of muffled voices. One they knew as Elka’s, the others must have been her mother and grandfather, but without the luxury of quick, silent movement, neither could they afford to eavesdrop. Jonas gritted his teeth through his pain, neither of them willing to test Elka’s grandfather’s mobility.

At the top of the stairs they turned into a corridor wide enough for the two of them to shuffle and stumble side-by-side, past a couple of doors either side, to the end. Jonas turned the loosely-attached dulled brass lever-style handle and swung the door open.

Dust swirled into the air, soon lost to sight in the dim room. Llew pushed her way between tables loaded with books, pillows, blankets and teddy bears, to the window. She pushed back the thin curtains and gray light sauntered in. The rain continued outside. She turned back to the room. At first glance, the mess overwhelmed. Certainly Llew was no stickler for cleanliness, but it was clear there had been no intent for this room to be a bedroom any time soon.

Jonas supported himself on the back of a plush chair, its low seat loaded with books and papers. Once again, he had his eyes closed, breathing deeply. How much pain was he in? He was also cold and wet, as was Llew. There were woolen blankets here. They would have to do.

Llew crossed back over to Jonas and reached for his shirt buttons. It might not be best propriety to present themselves naked to their hosts, but there would be no warming in the clothes they wore. Jonas straightened to make it easier for Llew to help him, but his attention remained focused inwards.

Revealing his chest, Llew was struck by the new burn marks. She pulled him forward; more reddened hand marks threatened to scar him again.

Llew had worked the forge with her father. Neither of them had needed the assistance of a doctor to treat a burn, just a living object, usually a tuft of grass growing where it wasn’t wanted. She hadn’t even thought of what assistance Jonas might need after the fight.

Her failure as a healer settled deep once more.

At least they were in the right place now.

Llew cleared the seat then turned back to help Jonas finish shedding his soaked clothing. She unbuttoned his trousers and supported him to sit so she could help him work free of them. As he settled himself, she grabbed one of the blankets and spread it across his shoulders. Then it was off with his boots, and socks, which revealed the whiteness of his right foot, as if blood no longer flowed to it.

Llew gripped the cuffs of his trousers and pulled. Jonas raised himself off the chair to help, then sat heavily again. As the waistband cleared his knees, further damage became evident. A red line trailed up the inside of his calf muscle, fading out near the knee.

‘What’s that?’

Jonas huffed out a laugh, like she was stupid.

‘I’m a walkin’ dead man, Llew.’ He laughed again, hollow, his gaze flat. Then he looked away, wrapped his blanket about him, rested his elbow on the chair arm, chin in his palm, and chuckled to himself. ‘Should’ve left me back there.’

The fever must have been playing with his mind. Sure, his injuries and growing fever had slowed him down, but they’d made it here where they would get help. He was not, despite his claim, dying.

‘Don’t you think they can help?’ Llew tilted her head, indicating the family downstairs.

Jonas shrugged.

‘Best to assume they can.’ Llew retrieved another blanket and laid it across Jonas’s lap, offering modesty and added warmth, then she shucked her own wet clothes and wrapped a blanket about herself, tucking it so it would stay wrapped beneath her armpits. ‘Does it hurt? I mean, now, while you’re not standing on it.’

‘I need to rest it on somethin’.’

Not far from Jonas was a haphazard pile of books, Llew stacked some of them, adding one at a time beneath his heel until he was comfortable.

A bed, not unlike the thin-mattressed one Llew had spent many weeks in recovering from Aris’s attack, was pressed up against one wall. It was tall, the base about hip-height, and it, too, was piled high with books and other discarded objects – mostly contraptions that Llew had no name for – she guessed they had medical applications, or had at one time.

‘Well, I suppose you’ll be sleeping on that, so . . .’ She wound her way back through the tables.

‘Llew,’ Jonas grunted, barely bothering to say it clearly.

Llew hesitated a moment before going to him and crouching by his chair. ‘You all right?’

He didn’t respond for several moments. He looked at her, but not quite. He seemed lost. Maybe the fever. Maybe the fact they were utterly helpless. When had Jonas, the Great Syakaran of Quaver ever been helpless?

Suddenly, his hands clasped her head, pulling her to him and his mouth took hers, twisting and prying to open hers to him. Her initial response to anyone grabbing her like that was to pull back and give them a fist. But this was Jonas, so she relented. Her lips relaxed and their teeth collided. It was clumsy, sloppy, desperate, violent. Llew tried to pull back to take a breath, but he clung to her, possessing her. Even without his Syakaran power, he was strong enough. He kissed her hard. Before she could register pain, a tingle passed back through to him. He released the kiss and chuckled, still holding her forehead to his, then let her go.

She fell back, catching herself on a pile that gave way under her, and she collapsed amongst the debris, hard corners of boxes and books digging into her in a variety of places, blanket exposing far too much of her. Trembling, she wiped her arm across her lips.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, his head turned from her, and anger flooded through Llew.

She jumped to her feet and pushed aside another chair on her way to the bed where she set about picking things up off the mattress and dumping them on the floor with little care. He was sick. He wasn’t himself. But that didn’t mean she had to put up with such behavior, did it?

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, louder and clearer.

She paused; kept her back to him.

‘I was wrong,’ he continued.

Llew’s eye twitched with the desire to agree and demand explanation, but there was little to be gained in doing so.

Jonas sighed. ‘You should let me go, Llew,’ he murmured.

‘Let you go?’ Llew turned, folded her arms and glared at the side of his head, his face hidden by a curtain of hair.

‘This is bad.’ He indicated his right leg. ‘Worse than I thought. And I ain’t Syakaran no more. Can’t save you from what’s comin’. All I ever was was what I could do. Can’t do nothin’. Ain’t nothin’.’

If it hadn’t been for that kiss, that assault, she would’ve jumped to his defense. But in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

‘If not me, live for your son,’ she said flippantly.

Tension slid from Jonas’s shoulders as he sat with that.

Llew turned back to her task. She wasn’t about to let him go. Despite that kiss, they were good together. Ever since they’d met, they’d just . . . fit. Despite Aris. Despite Karlani. Even despite Braph.