He'd run out of things to talk about and was mumbling nonsense by the time he found the turnoff Kieran had told him to look for. He babbled about that for a while, then recited some poetry he'd had to memorize in grammar school. It was terrible, stupid, self-righteous poetry, but it was all he could think of right now. And he had to keep talking, because whenever he fell silent, Kieran started to have nightmares. He could feel them through the place where their skin touched.

Throat-sore and thirsty, he could barely keep Kieran in the saddle. He rode straight at the setting sun now. From her plodding pace, the mare was just as tired as he was. The skin of his face felt tight with sunburn. Even Kieran was a little burned, despite his dark skin; some red was showing under the brown in places. They'd left the canyonlands behind, or at least that particular stretch of them. This faint track crossed a flat pan of featureless yellow-gray dirt. He prayed they reached something before dark, because it would be easy to get lost here, and they were almost out of water.

As the sun went behind the mountains, chill descended like a wall. He stopped long enough to get their coats from the bundle behind the gray's saddle, but he did it without dismounting; he was fairly sure he wouldn't be able to get up again. Careful not to let Kieran fall, he put on his sheepskin jacket, wincing as the dirty fleece scraped his sunburn. Then he arranged Kieran's leather coat like a blanket, before coaxing the mare to walk again.

All this should have made Kieran wake up, at least a little. It didn't.

Now that the sun's heat was gone, Ash could tell that the warmth he was feeling from Kieran's skin was too much. Fever. Between that and the stupor in which Kieran seemed caught, which was even now pitching toward nightmare again, Ash began to worry that things were rather more severe than he'd thought.

But what could he do about it? Stop and make camp? Here, where there was no water he could find, and Kieran unable to perform his near-magical water-finding act? The horses were exhausted, Ash was exhausted, and Kieran was more passed out than sleeping, spiraling down into a fever dream.

"It's all right," Ash tried to say, but his voice scraped out like rusty nails. He couldn't talk anymore. So he tightened his arm around Kieran's waist and thought at him. I'm here, I have you, I love you, I won't ever let you fall. Everything is going to be all right. Lean on me, stay with me, I'll take care of you.

And the rising spin of fear broke; Kieran relaxed into more restful slumber as if Ash had spoken.

What was that? No one ever told me empathy goes both ways. Well, no one ever told me anything useful about it, I guess. But if it can give Kieran any comfort... For the first time since he'd learned he was an empath, Ash was glad of his Talent. He went on sending love and calm, while the light faded.

Just when it had become so dark that he thought he would have to stop, he made out a yellow speck of light in the distance.

So there was something out here, after all. He rode toward it, expecting more lights to join it at any moment, but none did. If it wasn't a town, what was it? A lone farmhouse? That might be easier to deal with, though he might have to sit awake and guard Kieran all night if it looked like the occupants might be going to inform on them. Or god forbid, try to capture them. His weariness spiked at the thought, reminding him that he hadn't slept enough last night. Then up before dawn, a fight, lots of climbing, then riding all day -- on an empty stomach, he realized. He'd forgotten to eat. Kieran hadn't eaten either. Nor had the horses.

But there was this light. Coming closer. A window, a lamp in a window. A shape moving in front of it, alerted by the sound of the horses; window in a pale wall, square building, shaped funny on top... a dome. It had a dome. It was a temple. Of all the rotten luck. But there was no choice. What was a temple doing way out here?

A rectangle of dim brownish gold opened in the middle of the wall. There was a man-shape silhouetted in it, black against the light spilling from another room. A moment's hesitation, and the man came out into the night, head forward as if he were squinting, trying to see in the dark. He was wearing the long robe of a priest, open over more normal clothing.

"Hello?" A soft voice, uncertain. "Do you need shelter?"

Ash stopped the mare. The gelding tugged at the lead a bit, then stopped as well. Ash croaked, "Help?"

"Oh my. Miyan! Miyan, come quick!" The priest rushed to Ash's side, reaching up as if to take Kieran.

"No," Ash croaked. "Other side. Left... left side." He moved the coat they'd been using as a blanket, so the priest could see the way Kieran's right side was all bandaged up.

Another shape came out of the door, a smaller one in a skirt. There was a feminine gasp, then a burst of Iavaian.

The priest, to Ash's astonishment, replied in the same language.

Working together, the priest and the native girl managed to take Kieran's weight as Ash eased him down. He didn't wake. Then Ash dismounted, and immediately crumbled to his knees.

"Are you hurt as well, son?" said the priest.

"No. Just tired. Take care of him, please, please. Do you have any medicine? Bandages? Even clean water --"

The girl reached out to pat Ash's hand. "You no worry. We fix. You good man, bring him to help. We help." She bent over Kieran, examining the bandages. "What happen? You shoot him?"

"No!" Ash struggled to his feet. He tried to pick Kieran up, but his shaking arms couldn't even begin to lift the tall Iavaian. The priest motioned him away and, with a grunt of effort, picked Kieran up all by himself.

"Oh god -- careful --" Ash followed, reaching helplessly, but the girl caught his arm.

"He strong. You no worry. You worry?"

"Yes."

"Why? He good servant?"

"Servant?" Ash gasped. Then he flung up a hand to shade his face as they went inside; the lamplight was blinding after the dark outside. The girl tugged his other hand, leading him after the priest who staggered under Kieran's weight.

"Not servant?"

"Not even close," Ash said absently, far more interested in following Kieran than answering the child's questions. Squinting against the light, he saw that they'd gone through the temple part of the building and into a smaller room that contained a bed and table.

The priest set Kieran on the bed, then stood up with his hands to his back. "Whew. That is one large young man. Now, you --" The priest stopped, staring at Ash in sudden recognition.

Not knowing what else to do, Ash stared back, trying to show all the pleading he felt. He didn't say what he was thinking, for fear that he was misinterpreting the priest's look, but it was only a small doubt. Their descriptions had made it here ahead of them. The Watch must have spread the word to every tiny town and outpost as soon as the jailbreak occurred.

"You stay here," the priest finished. "I'll get the medical kit. I have a medical kit." He rushed away.

Sick with helplessness, Ash knelt beside the bed and took up Kieran's hand. Bowed his forehead to it. "It's going to be all right," he whispered. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see the girl peering curiously at Kieran's tattoos. She was probably about fourteen years old, round-faced, wearing a modest Eskaran dress of dark gray enlivened by a yellow sash. He wondered if he ought to take her hostage, in case the priest came back with a rifle. He couldn't bring himself to seriously consider it.

"Kai'adiin," the girl breathed.

Confused, Ash studied her face. "You said Kai. What was the other word?"

"One word. Holy man." She glanced over her shoulder, then turned back with a conspiratorial smile. "You no tell priest. Okay? Here, look. Auanit." She reached as if to poke the big tattoo on Kieran's chest, but found herself blocked by Ash's hand.

"Please don't touch him."

"I no hurt. Not servant, eh? You all --" she made a strange flapping gesture. "Like mother. Good friend, eh?"

Now it was Ash's turn to make sure the priest was out of earshot. "Ediya'haan," he said.

The girl's eyes went round. "Oh!" She glanced between the prone Iavaian and the white boy clutching his hand. "Too bad. I hope maybe marry him. Have big huge babies. Joke! No be mad. Iavai'ai sheishu?"

"No, I don't speak Iavaian. Sorry."

"Okay. Hungry?"

"Um. Sure, yeah. Thank you."

She dashed away, leaving Ash to wonder if she was simpleminded, or if it was just the language barrier that made her sound that way. The thought was drowned by a wave of anxiety from Kieran. Ash bent to soothing him, brushing back the wisps that had escaped his braid, forcing down the nightmare. He was deep enough in this that he forgot to watch for the priest's return. It was a metallic click that got his attention.

He turned to see the priest standing in the doorway, aiming a shotgun at him.

Ash was too tired to be angry. The only emotion he could muster was sadness. "Don't do this," he murmured.

"I'm terribly sorry," the priest said. He looked tired as well, though it was probably how he looked all the time. Deep creases worn by sun and dry air made his face look older than he probably was; his bald head was sunburned. His eyes were as dark as a native's, and looked gentle despite the shotgun. "It's just that the notice said you two are violent, and I have my little Miyan to think about."

"You think I'd hurt her? What did they say we did? No, it doesn't matter." Ash let his head sag, made no attempt to stop his eyes from spilling over. "I suppose if I make a wrong move you'll shoot me."

"That seems to be the way it's done."

"Then all I can do is beg." He looked up, facing the uncertainty and dawning guilt in the priest's heart. "Save him. He's got a high fever, he won't wake up, his collarbone's broken and I think the wound might be infected, he won't survive without proper care." His vision, already blurry, unfocused entirely, and he sagged against the edge of the bed. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I wish I could offer a trade, save him and you can take me out back and shoot me, but what good would that do you?"

"Well, you see, my duty to the Church means I have to assist the Watch however I can. Granted, you don't seem dangerous, but that's not for me to judge, is it?"

"You're the one with the shotgun."

"I suppose you're armed? The notice said you were armed."

Ash groaned. "Yes, look, I'm taking off my coat, both our guns are in my coat." He threw the jacket on the floor and shoved it away. "And money and everything, take it, just stop dithering and either help or fire!"

The priest stood there a few seconds longer. Then, with a sigh, he put up the shotgun, scooped up Ash's jacket, and walked away. A moment later he came back carrying a wooden crate. The girl, Miyan, was right behind with a kettle and a bowl.

"Thank you," Ash whispered.

"Yes, well, I still haven't decided what to do with you. But I can't very well let this young man die, can I?" Rooting around in his crate, the priest produced a roll of gauze and a cork full of needles. "How did this happen? Was he shot?"

"Yes. A rifle at close range. The bullet went through, but it broke some bones on the way, and it hit his lung a little. I don't think he's bleeding into his lungs anymore, though."

"How long ago was this?"

"Early this morning."

"Well, if he were going to die from a punctured lung, he would have done it already. Why don't you have a seat? Stay out of my light."

Ash stood, wobbled as dizziness overcame him. Looked at the chair the priest had indicated, and realized that he didn't dare be out of contact with Kieran. As if the only thing keeping Kieran alive was Ash's presence -- self-centered thought, that, but he couldn't shake it. So he moved around to the head of the bed and rested his hand on Kieran's brow.

"What's this? You think I'm going to make him vanish if you don't keep an eye on me?"

"He needs me," Ash said simply.

He tried to watch as the priest undid the makeshift bandages. It was getting harder and harder to hold his head up, though. He rested it on the pillow beside Kieran's, just for a moment. Just to catch his breath.

The next thing he knew, Miyan was tugging at him, chattering in his ear. Groggily raising his head, he saw that the crusted shreds of his and Kieran's shirts that he'd used for bandages were gone, replaced by clean white gauze. There were only a few flecks of blood spotting over the wound. Kieran looked cleaner, too, and his feet were bare. The girl was babbling something about eating.

"I'm not -- I'm not hungry, I'm too tired -- thank you, stop pulling."

"Up, up! Silly boy, you sleep on floor?"

He managed to get upright, but resisted when she tried to move him away, even when he saw bread and cheese and water set out on the table she was shoving him towards. "He needs me, he'll have nightmares if I'm not there."

"Eat!" she insisted.

With a last glance to Kieran, he surrendered. His stomach demanded it. While he was wolfing down the food, the priest returned, holding a lantern and wearing a nightshirt.

"When you're finished, son, let me show you where you'll be sleeping."

"Thank you, no." Ash washed the last of the bread down with the last of the water, pushed himself up on the edge of the table. He nearly knocked it over.

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave."

"Huh?" Ash blinked at him. "Leave?" He staggered back to the bed and sat down beside Kieran.

Miyan bustled around picking up the dishes, then pushed them at the priest, chattering. They had a little exchange in Iavaian. The priest cleared his throat. "You do realize," he said stiffly, "that what you boys do is a sin against God."

Of course he shouldn't have blurted ediya'haan at the girl, she was just a child, and had no reason to keep his secrets anyway. Ash gave the priest a weary smile. "Can we discuss that later? I just need to know if he's going to be all right. Is there anything I can do for him?"

"Let him rest. It's in God's hands now."

"God owes him a lot of favors; let's hope He decides to pay up."

The priest made a hand sign against blasphemy. Ash lay down along the edge of the bed, wrapping his hands around Kieran's good arm. Miyan rushed over and slapped at his leg, crying, "Boots! Boots!"

"Sorry," Ash mumbled. He couldn't move. He barely felt the girl taking his boots off. By the time a thin blanket settled over him, he was too sleepy even to thank her. He reached for Kieran's dream, twined himself around it, and let go of the world.

They rose slowly out of sleep together, simultaneously losing the thread of the same dream; Ash realized that just before he came awake. He opened his eyes just in time to see Kieran open his. They looked at each other for a while, gradually becoming separate, becoming real. Kieran glanced around, lost, frowning, then looked back to Ash and smiled.

"I dreamed you were here," he rasped.

"Every moment," Ash answered in a voice almost as ruined. His arm had gone numb; he'd slept in the same position all night. He sat up and tried to rub some feeling back into it.

"Where are we?"

"A little temple in the middle of nowhere. I took the road you told me to, and this was all I found. I'm afraid the priest wants to turn us over to the Watch, but I had to do something. You were in bad shape."

"I feel like shit. How do I look?"

"Better than last night." He felt Kieran's forehead. "And your fever went down. I'll see if I can find you some water."

Kieran's hand moved to catch Ash's wrist. "Not yet."

"Aren't you thirsty?"

"I'm -- yeah. But I'm just a little lost, still. Let me wake up. I'll come with you."

Ash tried not to show his concern. This was downright clingy by Kieran standards, and Ash wasn't sure how to interpret it. "I don't know if you should get up yet."

"I'm tired of being helpless. What if this priest..."

"He's got our guns. I don't know yet whether I could take them back; you're in no shape to try. I don't think he'll do us any harm, though, not after he patched you up so nicely. And there's this girl, seems to be a kind of foster daughter or something, and she's quite taken with you. She won't let him do anything wrong."

Kieran held his wrist for a moment longer, then let go with a sigh. "Yeah. Okay. I don't know why I'm being such a chickenshit."

"I guess being tough for so long wears you out. Take a vacation. I'll be the mean one for a couple days, all right? Just until you're back on your feet."

As he'd hoped, that made Kieran smile.

His boots were gone. No doubt the priest had hidden them, intending to keep the fugitives from leaving. That was all right, if the Watch wasn't too close behind them. As long as they had a couple days, Ash guessed that he could manage. At the worst, he could clobber the priest with a chair or something and search the premises.

In daylight, the temple looked shabby. He stood in the sanctuary for a moment, noting that the benches had all been stacked against the wall, and the altar was dusty. There was a wooden eye-of-Dalan hanging on the wall above it, the gilding mostly flaked off, and a rank of candles that were so furred with dust he guessed they hadn't been lit in a year. What the hell kind of temple was this, anyway?

There were two other doors off the sanctuary. The first one he checked was locked. The other led into a kitchen, where the priest sat at a roughly made table with a book in front of him, half-round spectacles perched on his nose. He looked blankly at Ash, eyes bloodshot. A door stood open to the outside, showing a yard with a well, where the horses were tied near a trough. With a start of guilt, Ash realized he'd forgotten all about them. Fortunately someone had unloaded them, and they looked happy enough. Beyond the horses, all he could see was flat desert, all the way to the purple-gray line of the mountains.

"Good morning," Ash said.

"Um. Good morning. How is, uh, Mr. Trevarde? Still alive?"

"Awake and thirsty."

"Good, good. There's the water barrel. Cups on the hook there. We have nothing to drink but water, before you ask."

"No coffee?"

"Oh. Coffee. A little. I meant, uh, we don't..."

"Have any liquor. Wouldn't expect it. This is a temple, after all. Can I take this pitcher?"

"That's a vase."

"Can I take it?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. As for this being a temple, it's a mission actually." The priest marked his place in the book and closed it. "A failed mission. At least so far. I'm making a little progress with Miyan, I think. The rest of them, well, I was too late."

Ash turned with water dripping off his chin. "What are you talking about?"

As a reply, the priest got up and opened a shuttered window behind him. Ash went to look through it, and froze halfway through wiping his mouth. In that direction, there was a village, or the remains of one. The rounded huts were fallen in on themselves, like broken eggs. Some still showed scorch marks.

"What happened?"

The priest gave a weary shrug. "They refused to convert. I hid Miyan, but the rest, well, I couldn't do anything about it."

"The Watch did this?"

"Yes, they did. It's the law, you see, there's really no alternative."

"And how did the Watch learn that this village refused to convert?" He met the priest's eyes for a moment; then the priest looked away. For a long moment, Ash fought the urge to slug the man in the face. In the end he just went back to the water barrel, then back to Kieran.

He found the room full of Miyan. She was fluttering around, chattering like a squirrel while she did things that looked vaguely like cleaning. Kieran gave Ash a grin, then croaked a reply to the girl in Iavaian.

"Miyan," Ash said, "don't wear him out."

"She's entertaining me, Ashes. Let her stay. Damn, I'm thirsty, gimme that."

Ash sat on the edge of the bed while Kieran worked his way through the large tin pitcher that was actually a vase. "So what are you two talking about?"

"Tattoos. She likes my wind knot. Says there's a big one, back in the hills a ways. Wants to show it to me."

"So pretty," Miyan put in, with a large hand gesture that scattered a cloud of dust from the rag she was using. "Big cave, so big auanit made all -- haya? -- all little rocks."

"A mosaic?" Ash said.

"All little rocks," Miyan repeated, and went back to her dusting.

Kieran finished the water and gave the pitcher back. He let his head fall back on the pillow as if raising it to drink had exhausted him. "I kinda heard you talking in the other room. What was that about?"

"I don't know. Nothing. There used to be a village here but the Watch burned it out. I think we should leave as soon as you can ride. The priest hid our boots, but I can probably find them."

"No no." Miyan gestured with the rag again. "Miyan hide boots. Hide coat, hide all guns. Miyan keep one gun, okay?"

"Like hell," Kieran said, but Ash contradicted him.

"You can have one of the rifles, if you want. We have a spare."

"Rifles?" Kieran raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't notice me taking them? No point letting the Watch have them. We don't have a lot of ammunition for them, though."

Kieran gave a laugh that was half cough. "You're all right."

"I bet you're hungry."

"Starving."

"Back in a minute." He stood to go, but found his way blocked by a suddenly stern-looking Miyan.

"You no get food. Miyan get food. Man no cook."

"Why not?"

"Man no cook. Dalan say. Woman cook."

"Yes, well, I happen to be quite good at cooking, thank you very much."

Miyan put a fist on her hip, looking skeptical. "Dalan say. Man no cook."

"Kieran, would you tell her to let me through?"

"What makes you think I can change her mind? She's just as opinionated in her native language."

Ash sighed. "Look -- Miyan -- you can help me. Okay? Show me where you put our food supply. We have a big bag of coffee, you want some coffee?"

The girl blocked his way a moment longer before breaking into giggles. She punched his arm. "Joke. You cook. Come on."

In the kitchen, the priest watched sourly while Miyan and Ash ran in and out, stoking up the stove, fetching water. When Ash rolled up his sleeves and started chopping garlic, the priest cleared his throat.

"You do realize that the scriptures say that the work of the home is woman's. 'It is hers to make bread, and to see that the mouths of her family are not hungry.' You're going to corrupt my little girl with your invert ways."

"You're insane." Ash scooped the garlic into the pot and started in on some dried peppers. "Bachelors are supposed to starve?"

"Bachelor is a very kind word for what you are."

"Your moral high ground is pretty shaky, priest. I'd say your 'duty to the church' has probably killed more people than we ever did. Were there children in that village?"

Miyan blurted something in her own language and stormed out the door.

"I was wrong about you," the priest told Ash. "You're a demon." Then he followed Miyan.

"I'm sorry," Ash said, too late. He felt awful. He didn't have a lot of sympathy for the priest, but he hadn't wanted to hurt the girl. He went and looked out the window, and saw the two of them talking among the remains of the village. He turned his attention to the book the priest had left on the table. It didn't have a title printed on the cover; when he opened it, he saw why. It was a journal, and written in some kind of code. Interesting. He flipped to the front, then the back, and laughed when he saw that the last page had been ripped out. So the fellow had developed his cipher in the back of the book, and got rid of it once he memorized it. That implied a fairly simple code, maybe even a straight substitution cipher, if he could keep it in his head. What was he writing about, that he had to keep it in code?

Another glance out the window assured him that the conversation was nowhere near over. Ash snatched up the book and took it to the room where Kieran lay.

Kieran was asleep. He jerked and gasped when Ash woke him, staring in momentary alarm.

"I'm sorry," Ash said.

"What? What is it?"

"Calm down. Nothing really urgent, I just want to hide this."

Kieran frowned at the book. "Why?"

"Might be able to trade it for our stuff, I don't know." He lifted the blanket and slid the book under Kieran's knees. "I'll think of a better place later."

"You better. That feels weird."

"I will. Go back to sleep now. Food's going to be about half an hour."

"Sleep. Hell. Fuck sleep. I was having nightmares. Don't leave me here, I'm bored, I think I'm gonna puke and what if I choke on it --"

"Okay," he agreed immediately, feeling as if he were sliced open by the fear in Kieran's eyes. It didn't look right there.

But as Ash started to sit down, Kieran scowled and waved him off. "No, don't listen to me. I don't know what my fucking problem is."

"If you're sure... I'll just be in the next room."

"Go. Get out of here."

The priest still wasn't back when he returned to the kitchen. He could no longer see either of them out the window or the door. After a quick check of the cupboards, just in case Miyan had hidden their things there, he went back to work.

If I ever manage to stop being a fugitive, I think I'll be a cook. It's the only thing I'm halfway decent at besides writing inflammatory prose, and a lot less likely to get me in trouble. Wonder if there's a market for Yelorrean food in Prandhar?

A shadow crossed the doorway, paused a moment before the priest came slouching in. He avoided Ash's eyes. When he saw the empty table, he stood still for a long time. Ash just went on working as if nothing was unusual.

"What did you do with it?" the priest said at last.

"What did you do with our boots and guns?"

"It won't do you any good. It's not a fair trade. If the Watch find out I had you and let you go --"

"What I find myself wondering," Ash interrupted, "is what they'd think of the contents of that book. Wouldn't take them long to crack a simple substitution cipher. I'm guessing I could do it myself in under four hours." The look of shocked dismay on the priest's face confirmed his guess. Ash grinned and went on, "Didn't the notice say? I was a bit of an encryption expert when I was with the Resistance. Kieran's got sort of a talent for it, too. Hell, he cracked one of my ciphers, which is damn near impossible. Granted he just guessed the key, but -- oh, were we done talking?" This to the priest's back as the man dashed into the sanctuary.

Ash followed and watched as the poor bastard upended his bench pile, looked behind the altar, growing more and more frantic.

"Damn you!" The priest rounded on him. "I should have let you have both barrels, you sneaky godless faggot! You're going to bring them down on us, and poor Miyan -- after everything I did to save her --"

"They're going to get you anyway. That hadn't occurred to you?"

The priest stomped into the room with the bed, aiming a scowl at Kieran before beginning his search. "If I turn you two in, they'll take you and go. But you'll tell them I have a book in code, won't you? Just for spite! And they'll take my little girl away and wreck her beautiful mind!"

"Why would -- her mind?" Understanding dawned. "Oh, you poor stupid trusting son of a bitch."

From the bed, Kieran made a sound of annoyance. "Ash, would you just break this fucker's neck for me? He's making way too much noise."

"Only if he doesn't settle down." Ash cracked his knuckles, which got the priest to stop searching. "Look, I don't know what kind of happy world you've been living in, but in the real one, the Watch don't give a damn for you or anyone. They have no respect. What did you think, you were going to get a medal? They'll rape your mind to find out if we told you anything interesting -- which is not fun, believe me, they did it to us a bunch of times. Then they'll probably kill you for knowing too much. And I'm guessing from what you said that you suspect Miyan's got a Talent, and you've been putting off giving her up to have it burned out. That's big trouble for you right there. You're screwed either way. So much for your duty to the Church."

"I wish you'd never come here," the priest said tightly.

"I'd be sorry, but I saw the village."

"Miyan's done nothing to deserve any of this."

"You're right, we owe her an apology. You, though... well, I just don't like you. Come on back to the kitchen, priest. We've kept Kieran awake long enough."

With a final glare, the priest stomped out of the room. Kieran chuckled and said, "You're gonna be the mean one, huh?"

"How am I doing?"

"Not half bad."

"I better go keep the pressure on."

He went back into the kitchen, just in time to meet the priest coming in from the yard, shotgun at the ready. The end of it was shaking a little, but at this range he couldn't miss. Sweat beaded on the priest's forehead as he nerved himself to shoot.

"That's one solution," Ash said, his voice level even as his stomach dropped through the floor. "Going to make Miyan help clean my intestines off the wall?"

Slowly, by inches, the priest lowered the gun. "God help me, I can't." He leaned in the doorway, weariness dragging down every line of his frame. "You can't understand. Life is cheap for you, you outlaws. You kill and leave. And I have to live with the evidence every day... it's like having a corpse in your bed. You just don't understand. I had to send reports, I had to report my progress, I never thought it would condemn them..."

Ash sighed, bowing his head. He was suddenly very sorry for everything he'd said to this man. "I shouldn't have thrown it in your face. You have no excuse to be naive again, though. If I were you, I'd watch for riders, and if you see dust on the horizon, take Miyan and run like hell. Or if you can stand our company, we could all leave together before they come for us. I don't agree with that 'life is cheap' comment, but we can defend you two better than you can defend yourselves."

"Oh, certainly, I give you those guns and you immediately murder us."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You killed women, why not a child and a priest?"

"Women?" Ash shook his head slightly. "Can I see that notice you mentioned?"

"I -- I suppose." Warily, keeping a close grip on the shotgun, the priest edged past. He went to the locked room, and came out a moment later, locking it behind him. He'd exchanged his weapon for a sheet of cheap cardstock, which he held out to Ash at arm's length.

Ash's first reaction was a smile at the portraits. There must have been a sketch artist at the prison, because whoever drew these had obviously seen them in person. The pictures made them look much meaner than Ash thought they did in real life, and showed Ash with his old squarish specs instead of the round ones he had on now. Nevertheless they were quite recognizable.

Then he read the text. No charge of practicing unlicensed magic was listed, nor was concealing a Talent. The Watch were apparently keeping a lid on that one, which meant the priest didn't know. But they were wanted for the murder of eight people. Eight. Six of the names were male, and looked like the names of city-bred natives -- names like Addy Tallgrass and Laine Breakrocks. Probably the gangsters Kieran had shot in Shou-Shou's yard. But two were female: Jinnie Harkes and Amica Welard. His teeth creaked, and he had to force himself to stop grinding them. "Those -- those liars, those unimaginable shits!"

Despite a flinch, the priest said bravely, "You expect me to believe you didn't kill those people?"

"Not the girls! Those men attacked us, Kieran shot them, but not the girls! The Watch must have taken them or killed them in questioning. Oh god. Amica Welard; I think that's Ami. She lent me her bathrobe. Oh god."

"I see. You killed those women simply by existing. Now you know how I feel."

Ash stared at him in astonishment. "Are you going to stand there and feel sorry for yourself? I pity Miyan for having to live with you. Look, there's only one way out of this. Go find her, get our weapons, and let's all get the hell out of here. The sooner we go, the colder our trail gets."

"If I do -- imagine for a moment that I do -- is your... friend in any shape to ride?"

"I don't know. We can ride double again, or rig a litter."

The priest dragged his hands down his face. Then he nodded. "I'm afraid you're right."

Ash folded the notice and put it in his pants pocket; Kieran might want to see it, later. "Hurry, now. We should go right after we eat."

"It's very strange to be taking orders from a boy half my age."

"Oh for -- would you climb out of your rut already? Get moving!"