“How much are you planning to take?” Zott said as he watched Rae try to stuff a few furs into his pack.

  His eyes flashed as the sunset was caught in them.

  “Are you saying it will be too heavy for you?”

  “Are you saying you expect me to carry that?”

  Since they quarrelled in the forest, and Rae had a breakdown in his chambers, they had settled into normalcy again. Rae joked and teased, Zott huffed and scolded, and neither burdened the other with memories of the previous incidents.

  “Seriously, though. It’s the middle of summer, why are you taking all those furs?”

  “It will be colder than you’re expecting. Especially if we’ll be sleeping rough for a few days. And I like to be cosy,”

  Rae spoke lightly. But no matter how Rae pushed, he couldn’t get the furs to fit. They bulged at the edges, and when Rae tried to squeeze them smaller, he was met with rock-hard resistance.

  Zott scoffed.

  “Put it in mine, you already have too much,”

  “What about your things?”

  Even though they were leaving tomorrow, Zott had spent the whole day keeping Rae company as he arranged for the running of the camp in his absence. He had joined him for tea and cakes in the courtyard.

  Zott shrugged, “don’t need anything, except a cloak, a blade, and some good boots. Everything else I might need is at Camp Ashem,”

  “Well, if you end up catching cold, don’t come crying to me,”

  Zott didn’t laugh, but they didn’t quarral any more either.

  Satisfied, Rae set the pack, overflowing with the furs and other knickknacks, beside his bed and began tidying his desk. Letters had been pouring in over the last few days. The Kaolins had been delayed again: until they could be certain the empire wasn’t planning an invasion. Duke Bejuk had written a dry status report on matters in the northwest. And Duke Ashem…

  Imperial troops encroaching on our lands… hitherto unseen symptoms… an imperial noble captured…

  Duke Ashem hadn’t asked for help explicitly, but as the Shak, Rae had a duty to investigate. The fact he would soon be seeing Ven again was merely a bonus.

  They wouldn’t kiss right away, not while other people were around. But they would kiss. And soon! And Ven would say all the wonderful things he’d written in his letters out loud. And Rae would melt.

  Before he knew it, Rae was smiling so widely it made his jaw ache.

  “I had no idea you would be the adventurous sort,” Zott said in a voice like a dull blade.

  “What?”

  “You look so excited. I thought you would be nervous about going to Camp Ashem,”

  Rae thought about it. A lot really had changed in a few short months. He had turned into someone who would walk into the lion’s den with a bright smile, so long as the one he fancied was there.

  “Camp Ashem or not, it’s my duty as the Shak. If the plains-folk are causing trouble, I’ll be there to see them off,”

  Zott said nothing.

  “Are you happy to be going home?” Rae asked.

  “Hmmm,” he said, “somewhat,”

  They had dinner together. A large portion of roasted pheasant which Rae so wished he could have shared with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. But with a savoury-sweet glaze, cooked to a slight crisp, and with company whom he wasn't currently squabbling with… It wasn’t too bad.

  They left the Shak’s camp on a sunny morning, after a night of which the mystics had said “the stars foretell no terrible calamities.”

  It was only Rae and Zott. These mountains were too rough to traverse by horse or donkey, and the danger without the camp were of a sort that an army could defend against. It was best to move quickly, bringing only what and who you couldn’t do without.

  There were many things Rae liked about it: the scent of the trees and the earth, shooting game for them to eat, never needing to sit still.

  But leading every conversation was starting to get tiresome.

  “What do you miss the most about home?”

  “…”

  “Was that a jackfinch?”

  “…”

  “You always carry blades, do you not shoot as well?”

  Zott hummed his no hum.

  “You don’t shoot? Why not?”

  “Blades are better,” Zott said.

  “But you must have tried archery? Don’t you think it’s fun?”

  “…” the no hum, again.

  Rae let the matter drop. It’s probably that he has no aim, he thought.

  Night came, and they settled on a dry patch of land, shielded from the wind by a steep ridge on one side, and dense trees on two more. Zott built a fire, while Rae went to find and shoot a jackfinch.

  They roasted it and ate it with flat-breads they had carried from the camp. Even in the shade of the deep forest, the sunset was welcome reprieve. Rae made his bed, rolling his pack into a pillow. He took his treasured furs from Zott’s pack, and hung them across his shoulders as he watched Zott.

  Zott had taken his cloak off, to use as a blanket. He lay on the bare earth, his head resting on a tree root. He stared wordlessly up at the sky.

  Where they were resting the foliage wasn’t so dense and it was a moonless night. The fates were weaved, glimmering in the sky. Zott looked up at them, still, but not with sleep.

  “The third star of the southern ploughman, that’s my mother’s death star,” Rae said, mostly to himself. He hadn’t expected Zott to reply.

  “Hmm?”

  “And my birth star, is the first of his sickle. She died just as I’d turned seven,”

  “…”

  “What’s your birth star?” Rae asked.

  Zott’s hand shot up, pointing slightly to the north, towards the tree of the heavens.

  “Somewhere in this area, I don’t know the exact one,”

  “You could ask Camp Ashem’s mystic when we get there if you don’t remember?”

  “You’re the forgetful one. My surname isn’t Ashem,”

  “Ah right… I don’t know where Camp Wolavu might be, is it far?”

  Zott’s pale eyes met his. Reflecting the firelight, his pupils were tiny: like the eyes of a snake.

  “I’m not sure, it probably is far,”

  After that, whatever leak that had allowed Zott to engage in conversation for so long was firmly plugged. Rae joined him in silently studying the stars. In his mind’s eye, he drew the arc his mother’s death star took across the sky. Then, he drew his father’s arc and pondered over what the mystics would make of them. What deep truths were hidden in the points those paths intersected?

  Soon, Rae was struggling to focus on the pinpricks he was following, his eyelids grew heavy.

  “I’m going to sleep now, good night,”

  “…” That was Zott’s good night hum.

  Rae woke to a loud yelp and a scurrying rustle of leaves. A man of the mountains is always quick to wake, but even Rae wasn’t fast enough to see what had stormed through their clearing.

  Other than the eerie stillness of nature interrupted there was nothing left behind.

  “Did you see?”

  “I felt it,” Zott said. He was sitting upright, clutching his head.

  “What happened?”

  “A monkey. It ran right past me and it was carrying something heavy,”

  “And it hit you?”

  Rae crouched beside him. There was a red patch on Zott’s temple, partially hidden by his hair. Rae used his waterskin to wet some cloth and held it to the injury.

  Zott’s entire skull blossomed scarlet and he batted Rae’s hand away.

  “Stop that. It was just a little tap,”

  Sure, Rae thought.

  Zott gave him a look like dog ready to bite, so Rae busied himself folding and stuffing his furs back into Zott’s pack. His back was turned. Before either could say another word, Rae heard another yelp followed by several blows.

  He found Zott wrestling another figure to the ground. They fought like cats, grappling and swatting each other without mercy. The only sounds were the blow and short sharp breaths.

  The stranger, who had descended on Zott like a hawk to a mouse, fought valiantly. He was a slender, willowy man dressed in pale grey robes. When his struggling failed, he didn’t hesitate to take a vicious bite out of Zott’s wrist. In turn, Zott punched him across the jaw. His hood was knocked aside.

  A thin pale face framed by wisps of silver hair. For a moment, it looked like an old man, until Rae’s eyes focused, and revealed a visage more pristine than cut diamonds.

  Finally, Rae, who had been watching the men squabble for dominance with bemused interest, was shocked into action. Zott had pulled back his fist for a second blow.

  “Stop!”

  Rae grabbed at Zott’s sleeve and the punch glanced past the man’s face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “That’s Sebi! That’s young master Sebi Bejuk!”

  Rae’s angle was bad, and his grasp shaky. If Zott wanted, he could have knocked him away and continued the assault. For a moment, the tension in Zott’s muscles betrayed a desire to do just that. But, as Rae readied himself for a battle of will, adjusting his grip on the arm, Zott relented. He shifted off Sebi’s prone body, with a face made of stone.

  The stone and the icecap. Sebi’s face also didn’t betray any emotion.

  He sat up, and adjusted his hair and robes before primly saying:

  “You have my thanks, your Majesty,”

  He stood and looked like he would stride off into the forest without another word. He paused in his escape, glancing this way and that. After studying every inch of their little clearing, he spoke.

  “Your Majesty, have you seen a monkey recently?” Sebi asked as if it was the most normal question in the world. Rae wrestled to keep himself from smiling.

  “I haven’t. But he has,” Rae said when the absurdity had worn off.

  Then, Sebi asked Zott with a face as serene as fresh snowfall:

  “Might I trouble you to tell me the direction it went?”

  Zott pointed.

  “Ah, I see,”

  Rae glanced from Zott, arms crossed, back against a tree, glaring daggers; and Sebi, strolling into the trees, carrying nothing except the robes on his person, looking as ghostly as ever.

  “Sebi, Zott hit you rather hard. Are you feeling alright?”

  “There’s no time to worry about that. I need to find that monkey,”