Over the course of the days that passed, the biggest open-ended question was Katayoun. Before, he’d been determined to force her to talk to him. But after everything that happened, he decided against that. He was glad he did. Around the same time that Enusat calmed down, he caught her eye for the first time in days.

It only lasted a brief second, but it was a definite connection.

The next day, it happened again in the morning. Then again at lunch.

In the evening, after the camp was set, it happened again, and this time he was sure he saw her smile at him.

Now the big question shifted: when to approach her?

The next day, Xerxes and Kashtiliash were in the vanguard position yet again when scouts brought word that a group of horsemen were blocking the road ahead. They turned out to be representatives of a local warlord who demanded payment for passage. Gandash had the First Lieutenants convene about the situation

“Is the asshole serious?” Dasi asked.

“He’s serious,” Xerxes said. “He claimed he could field three hundred soldiers if we don’t comply.”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” Gandash said. His black eye was now fading away. “Crush them. I want Units One through Three in a straight line. No fancy Arrowhead formations or anything like that. Units Eight and Nine behind the heavy infantry. Dasi, I want you and your heavy cavalry in reserve. Unless necessary, no spellcasting. This will be a good opportunity for us to see some real action without being in any serious danger.”

“Can we mages at least fight in the line?” Xerxes asked.

Gandash hesitated briefly. “No. A stray arrow or knife could take you down. Stay behind the line unless absolutely necessary.”

Xerxes didn’t get the sense Gandash had mentioned a stray knife to conjure the memory of Gem. But regardless of his intent, it made Xerxes think back to that fateful street brawl. Gandash was right. And thus the mages stayed behind the line.

And as it turned out, the warlord fielded much less than three hundred men. And in an act of obvious ineptitude, the commander sent them charging forward right into the line of heavy infantry.

Units Eight and Nine peppered them with arrows and javelins, killing scores before they reached the line. They kept coming, though, whereupon the Sin-Amuhhu soldiers fell upon them with spears and short swords. The fighting had only been going for about five minutes when it seemed obvious it would end in a rout.

However, that was when the enemy punched a hole in the line, led by a burly man wielding a longsword. The Unsighted troops tried to close the line, but they were obviously leery of someone who practiced the Epitome.

“The Epitome?” Kashtiliash said. “Here?”

Xerxes gripped his longsword in the Skyward guard. “Jad did mention it was more common in the east.”

The burly man slashed and stabbed, and the Unsighted troops barely kept him at bay.

“Lieutenant Xerxes,” Gandash yelled. “Handle that!”

Xerxes trotted forward and, without any preamble, launched into the Squinting Slash.

The move caught the man completely by surprise, and Xerxes’ blade bit into his shoulder.

“Fuck!” the man shouted, and threw a wild downward strike.

Xerxes parried it, then came around with a blow that landed right at the base of the man’s neck. To Xerxes’ surprise, the blow took the man’s head off.

After that, the rout turned into a massacre. Bandits fell like wheat during the harvest, and after about half of them were dead, they turned and ran. Dasi and her heavy cavalry were never needed.

Not a single member of the company lost their life. There were a handful of minor injuries which the Unsighted surgeons attended to. Two troops sustained more severe injuries that required spellcasting from the Balatu mages.

Xerxes’ quick dispatching of the enemy longsword fighter was the talk of the company. Soldiers and mages alike slapped his shoulder and congratulated him on a beautiful killing blow.

That night, Gandash called for an early rest and a banquet of sorts. He allowed for drinking and feasting, though he emphasized that being hungover in the morning would not be tolerated. It wasn’t lost on Xerxes that Gandash himself didn’t drink anything.

The drinking led to singing and dancing.

At one point, after several tankards of ale, Xerxes saw Katayoun dancing in the firelight. The way she undulated, her hips swaying, her arms moving like waves… stirred something inside him. Then her eyes met his, and the world disappeared. Behind her was the fire, its flames silhouetting some parts of her but illuminating others. She was dancing, a faint smile on her face that took his breath away.

The music stopped, and she strode across the sand, and then dropped to her knees next to him.

“Hey,” he said.

She draped her arms around his neck, and leaned close to him. Like usual, she smelled of oranges and strawberries, except there was also a hint of alcohol on her breath. She slowly leaned closer. And closer.

“Um, about—”

“Shut up,” she said, and their lips met.

He heard some cheering around him, perhaps from his friends. Things blurred.

Later in the evening, after the music was over, and there was no more food or alcohol, he and Katyoun walked through the camp leaning against each other. They stopped at her tent.

He wanted to go inside with her.

She pulled him to her and they kissed.

“Not this time,” she said.

Had she read his mind? Or did he say something out loud and not realize it?

Then she ducked into the tent, and he bit his lip as hard as he could to force himself not to jump in after her.

Back in his own tent, he lay down on his bedroll and thanks to the alcohol, he fell asleep.

**

If anyone was hungover the following morning, they hid it well. They broke camp and got on the road again.

Despite what had occurred with Katayoun the night before, things didn’t go back to normal between them. She remained glued to other people, and even seemed to avoid him in the evenings.

However, he wasn’t worried. Their gazes still met occasionally. It didn’t matter if she was toying with him, or simply confused or hesitant. He knew he had her heart. And all he had to do was wait long enough for things to get back to normal.

Days passed. The weather never changed. It was obvious to everyone why the badlands were uninhabited and not well-traveled. They were dusty and dry, and the road contained numerous twists and turns that made it hard to sustain a rapid pace. Just about every other day, it seemed, they ran into areas where rainy season floods had washed out the road in months past. Most such places had been repaired well enough that a handful of people could carefully cross them. But for a huge group like Black Jackal company, it often required spending hours making more sturdy repairs.

There were occasional signs of habitations. Villages built into cliffs, barely visible from the road. A crossroads with a few dilapidated buildings. An oasis, around which was built a permanent bazaar of sorts. They generally avoided such places, or simply passed through them.

During the second week, they passed through an area where sand dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, and there were no areas of standing water.

Thankfully, Gandash had the ‘holding bracelet’ that provided them with water regardless of the weather or surroundings. That, combined with reasonable rationing, meant that they were never in danger of running low.

The holding bracelet didn’t contain anything that helped with heat, though. The dust. The sun. They were like grinding stones that never stopped turning.

Eventually the company left the desert areas, and got back into lands with trees and hills. The shade they provided, and the occasional breeze that rushed through them, made the days of travel a bit more bearable. They soon reached the third week. Supposedly, they only had another seven days of travel before they reached Puabi.

That was when everything changed.