“Those disgusting lawmzaob,” the merchant swore as Koyl finished his hushed explanation of what had happened the previous night. Since he hadn’t opted to walk through the sewers as I had, he had seen much more of the action in the slums firsthand. Evidently, the guard had engaged in a full-scale purge of anyone they came across, though according to him the majority of their forces were used to secure the border while the more heavily armed and armored specialists did the fighting.

“So, as you might imagine, we’re not looking to remain here any longer than we have to,” Koyl finished. The caravan guards exchanged glances with each other, then tapped the merchant on the shoulder. Koyl and I waited patiently as the group whispered back and forth, and I caught some words like “report” and “treaty”, though not enough to gain a good idea of what they were talking about. Eventually the driver joined in, though he didn’t say much.

“We’ll take you with us,” the merchant said, breaking from the huddle. “We can discuss payment later. We’re leaving tomorrow morning unless something changes. Considering the circumstances, you can stay with us tonight if you want to.”

“What inn are you staying at?” I asked.

“We’re just going to camp out here,” the merchant replied. “We’re under orders to sell as much of these goods as possible, but the temple won’t fault us for leaving if nobody shows up to buy.” There was a grimness to her tone, and she seemed to be looking past Koyl and me to the street behind us as she spoke. “That said, we’d appreciate it if you would help protect us if anything goes wrong today.”

“I need food,” I said, feeling my stomach growl. “I assume it will be provided?”

“We have enough,” the driver said from behind the merchant. “Just don’t eat all of it before we have a chance to hunt more.”

“What a seytoydh waste,” was the first thing I heard the next morning, rousing me from my sleep behind the wagon. Not much had happened after we were taken on as guards. Slum dwellers had walked past, ogling the wagons, but not a single one had said anything to us or attempted to make a purchase. Some of the guards from Owsahlk had tried to buy food, but the merchant informed them that she wasn’t selling any. After that, Koyl and I went to sleep.

“You couldn’t have known,” the driver replied, helping the merchant load a crate into the back of the wagon.

“It’s not about knowing, we might have been able to help,” the merchant sighed.

“You hired us to guard your caravan, not get into fights with city guards,” the male caravan guard said. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I wouldn’t have thrown my life away. These people were dead regardless.” Is everyone awake but me? I wondered.

“Sometimes bad things just happen,” the driver added. “At least you managed to sell that load of clothing this morning.”

“I felt bad even taking money,” the merchant muttered.

“It would have hurt them more not to take it,” the driver assured her. “People need pride just as much as food or shelter.” I wasn’t sure of the relationship between the two, but hearing how they spoke to each other indicated to me that they knew each other better than a simple business relationship. I turned my eyes to the barely-lit morning sky, then rolled over to see Koyl still passed out beside me. It’s good that he didn’t wake up screaming, I thought.

“Koyl,” I grunted, jostling him gently. With a groan, Koyl blinked his eyes open, then yawned.

“What?” he asked drowsily.

“Get up, it’s morning,” I replied. Koyl’s eyes lolled around, then focused on me after a few rapid-fire blinks.

“Great,” he grumbled.

“I don’t see why we have to undergo this much of a search,” the merchant protested as we stood at the gate. The Owsahlk city guard just glared back at her pitilessly, then recited the same order he had read aloud three times already. The more you protest, the more likely they are to give you trouble, I wanted to say, but I kept silent and fiddled with the crossbow I had been given. The design of the weapon was simple, but very effective, incorporating a metal rider and rail to ensure straight firing. It felt just similar enough to a rifle in my hands to trigger my muscle memory, but not enough to fit it correctly.

“Zhervaol, just let them search,” the driver advised. “Yes, it’s ridiculous, but we’re not going to get out of here faster by complaining.” The merchant, whose name I hadn’t learned until now, huffed and crossed her arms, then moved out of the way. The lead guard at the gate gestured for his team to come over, and three new city guards began opening up the wagons and digging through the contents, while also inspecting the undersides and crevices for contraband. Above us, on the walls, I noticed a few archers peering down.

They aren’t paying us any mind, I thought as I watched where the city guards were looking, they really are just inspecting for smuggled goods. Koyl looked nervous, probably for a number of reasons, but I kept my head cool. The other two caravan guards looked annoyed, but said nothing as they watched the search. We don’t have any smuggled goods, right? I wanted to ask.

“What’s this?” one inspector called out, drawing attention to himself. As the other caravan guards and Zhervaol walked over to meet him, I slowly circled around to take a look at what he was pointing out. On the side of the textile wagon, a piece of the wooden board making up its base was removed, revealing an empty crevice that was big enough to contain a small bag of coins, or something else. Thankfully, it was empty.

“Emergency money storage,” Zhervaol grunted.

“Smuggler’s cubby,” the inspector who had found the compartment shot back. “You know, like the ones you were supposed to disclose before the search began.”

“Oh please,” Zhervaol hissed. “You know as well as I do that robberies aren’t uncommon in these parts. I have those compartments so that, in the case that I am robbed, I can keep some money safe. I just forgot about them.”

“If it’s for emergency money, why is it empty?” the lead city guard asked pointedly.

“The one on the other wagon isn’t,” Zhervaol countered. “Come, I’ll show you.” She walked over to the front end of the left side of her wagon and pulled at the wood, popping out another cleverly-disguised piece to reveal a compartment with money inside. Sixteen ngoywngeyt, I estimated, I wonder if she put it there just to throw them off. The lead guard frowned and put his hands on his hips.

“You know this means we have to search you more extensively, right?” he asked.

“As if you weren’t going to already,” Zhervaol spat. “We’ve done nothing wrong, search away. Just don’t get excited, you all look like you had a bit too much fun last night.” Though the lead guard gave Zhervaol a hostile glare, he said nothing in response.

If we had been on Earth, it would have been around 10 a.m. by the time we managed to finally get out of the gate. A feeling of relief washed over my body as I stepped out into the wild again, looking across the open plain and seeing the path wind off into the distance. I heard Koyl exhale, then contain some nervous laughter, and the other two guards looked at each other in response to his behavior. Thankfully their faces weren’t suspicious so much as mildly confused and amused. I hadn’t realized just how much stress can affect the body, I thought while we walked, even I feel more relaxed just being out of that place and knowing I won’t be caught.

The mostly open plains were dotted with trees and boulders, and not much else. About an hour after we began walking our group came across a corpse in the middle of the road, a raggedy-looking man with three broadhead arrows stuck entirely through his torso. The killing blow appeared to be one that pierced his heart, and the tracks leading up to the body indicated that he had bled out slowly after the wound attempted to close around the arrow, possibly over the course of several hours. Zhervaol insisted that we stop the caravan for an hour to move the body off the road and cover it in dirt, leaving the few possessions that the man had on his person.

Once the man was buried, Zhervaol said a small prayer and we departed again in silence. It would take a fair amount of energy to pierce a torso with an arrow of that shape, I thought as the group plodded along, occupying my thoughts by trying to figure out the circumstances of the attack. The arrowheads were nearly five centimeters wide at their widest point, and their rotational angle indicated that they likely cut through the rib bones as well. Since the man was almost certainly a recent runaway from Owsahlk, that meant that he was likely shot by the archers on the wall. They’re using force magic to draw heavier bows, I realized, feeling stupid for not instantly working it out. Those tips can probably pierce light armor at that draw weight. I should keep that in mind in the future.

When the sun set, I went off into the woods and cut some thick branches for use in a fire. I hadn’t gotten to use my throwing axes much in combat, but they worked decently well as forestry equipment. I guess I’m just more used to throwing knives, I thought, my mind has trouble thinking of the axes as ranged weapons. For a brief moment I had a spurt of panic as I realized I had left a throwing knife in the Owsahlk temple, but then I relaxed when I remembered that there would be no way to fingerprint it. After carrying the wood back to the wagons, I set up a fire for Koyl and me, then sat down near it. Though I didn’t need the fire to warm me since I had magic, keeping up appearances for the guards was important.

“So,” Koyl said, sitting down beside me and munching on a hard piece of bread, “this is going to take about twenty days.” My eyebrows raised, but I contained my surprise. I hadn’t asked how long the journey would be, but I had hoped it wouldn’t be as slow as the one to Owsahlk. My mind drifted back to the map and I mentally plotted the route we had taken from Pehrihnk, as well as the direction we were now headed in. Kahvahrniydah must be the inland city, I thought, the path should be straighter, but still, twenty days seems high.

“I thought I heard two weeks mentioned as the travel time at some point,” I recalled.

“Well, if you want to take some shortcuts it’s two weeks,” Koyl explained. “Zhervaol isn’t looking to get us into danger though, so we’re going to go around a few areas that are known for banditry.”

“Will you be alright?” I asked, keeping my voice low. The other guards were sitting at a fire ten meters away, and Zhervaol and her driver were at a third fire eight meters from both ours and theirs. “Do you have enough medication?”

“I’ll be fine,” Koyl assured me, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself. “We shouldn’t be getting attacked by monkeys or bears at least. The worst you’ll see on this road is a naalfay, but those don’t tend to come near caravans. I suppose there might be some small bandit groups, but it’s not like we’re carrying much of value.” Just cookware, spices, and toys, I thought, I suppose the spices might be valuable considering their rarity, but the rest is useless to bandits. We both sat silently for a minute, listening to the fire crackle.

“I have something to ask you,” I said. “Your family name, why did Zhervaol respond the way she did to it?” Koyl stared into the fire, opening and closing his right hand a few times nervously. “Are you impersonating someone, or are you really who she thinks you are?”

“I’m not impersonating anyone,” Koyl replied quietly. “No, I’m who I say I am, as much as I didn’t want to be for a while.”

“So then, who are your family?” I asked, causing Koyl to inhale sharply.

“My family are… well known,” Koyl said, sounding ashamed. “I haven’t really mentioned it, but I’m going back to see them. I was planning to go back before I met you, and everything that happened since then has only made me want to return more.” Koyl looked troubled, but not in the way he did when he was experiencing a traumatic episode. Instead, his face looked like he was trying to contemplate a difficult decision. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to not discuss it.”

“I need to know some basic information,” I told him. “Specifically, when you say that they are well known, will that be a problem for me? Will my association with you cause issues in Kahvahrniydah?”

“No!” Koyl replied instantly, looking at me fearfully. “No, nothing like that. You can take my word for it, whatever that counts for. It won't be any trouble for you, trust me.” Genuine fear, I observed, I didn’t expect a lie, but I also didn’t expect such a strong reaction. I guess they are family, humans tend to value the lives of close relatives highly.

“Good,” I nodded. “So long as they won't cause problems, I’m content to not press you on it.” Koyl relaxed somewhat, then turned back to the fire. He sat silently for a while, eating the bread, and I got up to get a piece of my own. Walking wasn’t exactly strenuous, but keeping a full stomach was generally a good idea in case food became unavailable. When I sat back down at the fire, Koyl had his hands clasped together.

“What do you think happened to… you know?” Koyl asked, glancing at me with his eyes.

“Vaozey?” I asked, and Koyl hushed me. “They don’t even know the context, and they can’t hear us at this volume,” I said. “Besides, they’re having their own conversations.”

“I hope she didn’t get caught or killed,” Koyl sighed. The memory of Vaozey being washed out of the sewer tunnel played in my head, and I quickly made the decision not to say anything about it to Koyl.

“I thought you disliked her,” I said. “You specifically called her a zaeternaaf, and all but told her that her actions disgusted you. In fact, what does zaeternaaf even mean?” Let’s get him onto a different subject, I thought, besides, I still can’t quite figure out the etymology of that word.

“Funny that you would ask that,” he chuckled. “It actually relates to what we talked about at the diner. Zaeternaaf means someone who takes pleasure in killing. More specifically, the act of killing itself, not necessarily the killing of a specific person.” That’s… confusing, I thought, I’m pretty sure all warbreed would fall under that umbrella. Wouldn't most humans as well? They seem to enjoy fighting.

“And this is a negative?” I asked, for clarification.

“Obviously,” Koyl replied. “Everyone sometimes takes pleasure in killing or the death of someone else. That’s normal. Even the gods do it. But a zaeternaaf doesn’t enjoy the death of a person they hate, they simply enjoy the death of a person in general. It’s death in particular that they enjoy, death and suffering.” And naturally, this is unethical to these people, I concluded.

“I don't believe Vaozey fits that label,” I noted.

“Yeah, well…” Koyl sighed. “Ngaazmayjh means someone who fathers illegitimate children, but it’s rarely used like that. I’m sure some people would call you a zaeternaaf if they saw you fight.”

“But as we discussed at the diner, it wouldn't fit me either,” I said.

“No, it wouldn't, not technically,” Koyl agreed. “However, it’s not about the exact definition of the word, it’s about what someone means when they say it. When people say zaeternaaf, what they mean is someone who commits horrifying violence without a second thought. In that way, it certainly could fit.” This is like that ‘frondosa’ thing all over again, I grumbled, recalling an old mission where I had encountered some obscure regional slang. “You also do certainly have a talent for killing, even if you don’t enjoy it,” Koyl added, laying back and looking at the sky.

“I have extensive practice,” I corrected. “I have no more of a talent for it than I do for walking, or speaking.” Koyl’s expression changed to one of sadness.

“One day, I’d like to know where you’re actually from,” Koyl said, and his words hung in the air. I doubt you’d believe it, I thought. “Even though I know you’re not a monster, you sometimes say things that make me wonder if you’ve got me fooled.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied.

“As for Vaozey, after seeing what the Rehvites did to those slums, I don’t know what to think of her,” Koyl continued. “She might have been right.”

“Why does it matter?” I asked. Koyl seemed taken aback by my question and pushed himself back up into a normal sitting position.

“I…” Koyl started, stopping like a jammed engine. “That’s…”

“Vaozey is not here,” I continued. “It is likely that you will not see her again, so what does it matter if she was right or wrong? You barely even participated in the-” Koyl shushed me loudly, looking around to the other fires nervously. “-the events at the temple,” I continued in a lower tone, “and you killed no one as far as I know. Her actions have nothing to do with you, and you have likely escaped any legal consequences for being present during them. Any further thought on the matter is nothing but wasted energy.”

“The gods might not agree with you on that,” Koyl murmured.

“And yet, they are not here,” I countered. “The opinions of those beings are inconsequential, if they even exist at all.” Koyl raised an eyebrow, then grunted something inaudible.

“For the sake of your own soul, you might want to hope they don’t,” he mumbled a bit louder, laying back on the soft grass. I have no such thing, I thought to myself, so it doesn’t matter either way.