"How are the humans settling in?" I asked as I straightened. I'd seen a couple of faces I recognized this morning, though not many.
"Better than I expected, honestly," Mei said as I fell into step beside her. She moved toward a fabric stall while Bartholomeus steered the children toward a toy vendor nearby. "It's only been a few days, but they're adapting. A couple have already found work. One's apprenticing with a mechanic, another's helping out at the school."
"That's wonderful." I meant it.
I thought of the holding cell where we'd found them. The stench of unwashed bodies and waste, the dim emergency lighting barely cutting through the darkness, the way they'dhuddled together like frightened animals. Some had been there for weeks. Others, months. The slavers had kept them starved and beaten—the psychological scars ran deep. And there had been others who hadn't made it at all, who we'd found too late.
Mei's smile was genuine, warm, and a little sad. She fingered a bolt of deep blue cloth, testing its weight. "It's always hardest the first few weeks. Everything is so strange and new."
"I remember." I’d never been abducted or enslaved like humans, but I did remember the way I'd felt coming out of the gladiator pits. It had taken weeks before I could eat a meal without feeling sick. Months before I stopped checking exits in every room, longer before I could sleep through the night without nightmares. I still had bad days. Still woke up sometimes with my heart racing, convinced I could hear the arena gates opening. Thankfully though, mostly I just dreamed of her.
Mei glanced at me sidelong, and something in her expression made me wary. "Speaking of new arrivals... Charlene has been asking about you."
I groaned, long and heartfelt. "Please tell me you're joking."
"I wish I was." Mei's lips twitched with barely suppressed amusement. "She cornered me yesterday at the community center. Wanted to know how long you were staying."
"Ancestors preserve me." I dragged my hand down my face.
"She's determined, I'll give her that." Mei selected the blue fabric and moved on to examine some ceramic bowls. "Don't worry, I'll keep her occupied until you leave."
"You're a saint. I owe you."
"Yes, you do." Mei grinned at me. "Now go enjoy your market day before she spots you. I saw her near the spice vendors about ten minutes ago."
I didn't need to be told twice. I clasped Mei's shoulder in thanks, waved to Bartholomeus and the kids, and melted back into the crowd, angling away from the spice vendors and toward the eastern edge of the market.
I'd made it maybe thirty meters when I spotted Lula's stand—a cheerful setup draped in colorful cloth, displaying an array of vegetables, fruit, jams, eggs, meats, and what looked like hand-carved wooden toys. Lula herself stood behind the table, her face breaking into a wide smile when she caught sight of me. A tall, dark-haired man stood beside her, arranging jars with methodical care.
"Cristox!" Lula called out, waving me over. "There you are! I was hoping you'd come by."
I couldn't help but smile. "Lula. Good to see you."
She poked the man at her side in the ribs. "This is my husband, Buck. Buck, meet Cristox. He's with the Alliance and brought the new arrivals."
"Nice to meet you, Cristox." He stuck out his hand in the Earth gesture of greeting.
"You as well." I clasped his hand and gave it a firm shake.
"Still in one piece, I see." Lula's eyes sparkled with mischief.
I winced. "So far, so good."
Lula chuckled, a musical sound. "Charlene's not exactly subtle."
"She's relentless," I admitted. "Thank you again for the rescue the other day. I owe you."
Lula waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. That woman needs to learn that no means no, not try harder. Besides, watching you try to politely extract yourself was the most entertainment I've had all week."
"Glad I could provide amusement," I said dryly.
"Oh, don't be like that." Lula reached across the table and patted my arm. "You handled it well. Most men would've been rude about it. You've got manners, even when you're terrified."
"I wasn't terrified," I protested weakly.
Lula snorted. "You looked like a man facing down a firing squad."
Before I could defend myself further, a tall, thin figure darted out from behind the stand. A youngling, maybe in his teen years, with distinctive lavender skin and ridge patterned markings. He skidded to a stop beside Lula, eyeing me warily.
