Abovehim, Zaria was already preparing another stew, mixing in cuts of dried appleand chamomile.The way she used her hand suggested it wasn’t paining her,thanks to Soldier’s Rest.“I told them how it happened.Wasn’t a fun telling,but things stayed civil.”
“Thankyou,” said the first boy.“Thank you for saving us.”
Isaactook a moment to reply.“There were many others.I’m sorry I couldn’t savethem.Were they ...the rest of your class?”
Thegirl began to sob again.The second boy wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Doyou—” The first apprentice hesitated.“Do you need further aid?We were hopingto save what supplies we have.”
“Aye,”Zaria said.“Funny how there’s kindness, now, when you were itching to leavehim for dead.”
“T-thatwasn’t—we need to preserve—”
“Oh,sure.Ain’t no blame.”
Isaacflexed the fingers on his arm.Blood loss had made them stiff, and it was obviousthat his wounds had only been numbed, rather than healed.Still, at the moment,he was feeling remarkably better.“I’m fine.”
“Good.Good.”
Theapprentice looked to Zaria.
“Rememberthe route I marked?”She kept stirring the lukewarm broth.“Which contacts arelike to give shelter?”
“Yes.Uh, yes.It’s here.”
“Practicea bit more with the ropes.Make sure you got the knots.”
“Y-yes,I will.We will.”
“Hey,”Zaria said.“Trust me.Send a courier.Tell your kin to meet you somewhere anddon’t have them go all together.Got it?”
The boygave a weak nod, his face pale and drawn.The girl was cradling her head in herhands.The second boy was staring off into the distance, gazing over the cavernwalls.
“Right.”She clapped the first boy on the shoulder.“Farewell.Best of luck all around.”
Thefirst male apprentice looked quickly between Isaac and Zaria, opened his mouth,didn’t seem to find the words, and left the tent entrance.The second boy triedto pull the girl away, but she was staring at Isaac again, refusing to move.
“I knowyou,” she said.
Isaacblinked back at her.
Shepointed a finger.“The tower.Berith’s tower.You’re the boy that always staredout the window.You’d watch us every day.”
Isaacdidn’t answer.
“You’reBerith’s son.”
“No,”he said.“I’m not.”
Shestared back, just on the edge of speaking.Her eyes were green and tinged withred.
“I knowyou, too,” Isaac said, suddenly remembering.“You lived four houses down fromthe apothecary.Your chimney was broken.Your father worked as a tanner.Youalways played with two boys at the herbarium.You’d put flowers in your hair,which, I imagine, was to hide the smell of leather.”
Thegirl’s mouth became a tight line.Her empty sigil wasblack and scabbing.
“Didyou ever keep the dog?”Isaac asked.“I saw you feeding a stray, one time.Itliked to follow you.”
“Thatwas ...years ago.”
