For hours, Jeskar and Iarius spoke. Jeskar asked many a question of the scribe, and Iarius answered honestly wherever he could. When Jeskar asked a question to which he did not know the answer, Iarius was honest about that as well. And whenever he admitted to his ignorance, the bandit chief would nod and move on to another topic of inquiry.

  As they conversed, the two men drank of Mordan vintage pillaged from Remuran merchants. The wine had a bittersweet taste to it, and an earthy aftertaste that lingered upon the tongue for many moments after it was swallowed. "It is weaker that Northern ales, and not as filling as a proper mead," Jeskar said of the drink. "But it will do. For now, it will do."

  Together, they went through a bottle, and Iarius found his tongue loosening more than he'd intended. He spoke of his childhood in Maritoris, of how that was the name of a town in southern Megarias, some distance away from the border which separated the Empire from the Northern Lands. He told Jeskar of how he grew up working on a farm, the son of the slave, and how after he'd purchased his freedom, he had traveled to Domus to study in the Acadaemium.

  "Remurans sound to me a savage people," said Jeskar, "to make thralls of children, and keep in service for all their lives."

  "It is the way of things," Iarius told him. "It taught me to work, and how. You Northerners seem strange to me, that you so disdain our practice."

  "Ha! Practice!" Jeskar shook his head. "My mother was one of you serviti, captured as a young girl in one of your Remuran raids upon our lands. She was held for six years, beaten and ravaged, until she killed her captor and stole away back North. Along the way she enlisted the aid of a traveler who was an elf in disguise. He smuggled her across the Remuran border, and they settled together in Paeliig. He vanished one night on the Dark Moon, and she discovered herself pregnant with twins."

  Iarius was silent, for he did not know how to respond. He had heard tales of mistreated serviti, had heard rumors of what happened to those captured by slavers and soldiers on campaign. Yet he had been well cared for, afforded all the opportunity he'd required to earn his freedom. He said as much.

  Jeskar merely shook his head once more. "A man should not have to earn his freedom," he said. "Such is man's birthright."

  Then the half-elf moved on to more inquiries about Paeliig, and Iarius provided him more answers. They spoke until Iarius' eyes grew heavy, and at long last silence fell upon their chamber, and Iarius drifted into slumber.

  When he awoke, Jeskar was holding a wooden bowl to him, within which were fruits and dried meats. "It is not an impressive breakfast," the bandit told him, "but we make due with what we have."

  Still, Iarius was famished after the previous day, and he ate greedily. He then accompanied Jeskar out of the caverns, and they emerged onto a cliffside, high up in the mountains, the morning sunlight warm upon their skin. Iarius looked down and could see Caelus Pass, and the travelers, small as ants, moving through it.

  "One small push, and that would be the end of you, Remuran," said Jeskar. Iarius shuddered and stepped away from the cliff, and the half-elf laughed.

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  "I come out here often to look upon the world, and to ponder what I have lost," Jeskar told him. He pointed, and Iarius in the distance the buildings of Paeliig, plumes of smoke from kitchen fires rising from it in thin columns to touch the sky. "My home is there, close yet distant, and I yearn for the day that I might once more walk its streets."

  Such was the mourning in his voice that Iarius could not help but feel his heart touched. "I am sorry," he said, "for all the pain my countrymen have wrought."

  Jeskar looked out at Paeliig, and Iarius saw tears forming in his eyes. But he wiped them away before they could fall. "One day, I fear, there will be men of Paeliig much like you. They will have grown up as Remurans, with no memory of the land as it was before. I wonder, was this pain felt as well by your ancestors in Megarias? Did your grandfather mourn that you would one day call yourself Remuran? I fight to avert that fate for my people, yet even I can see the tides of history bearing down on me. If I am honest, Remuran, I continue to fight because I want your countrymen to know that we did not give up, that we did not surrender to our fate, that until the bitter end, we stood with our heads held high and a sword in our hands, and we did not cease our resistance until the last drops of blood were wrung from our bodies."

  Iarius too watched the distant buildings of Paeliig. He attempted to recall the face of his grandfather, but could not, though he was certain he had met the man as a child. The scribe searched for words, but found none, and so the two men instead stood in silence, and Iarius soon came to realize that no words needed to be said.

  Perhaps, at last, something that passed for understanding had settled between them.

  "So this is where you are, brother. I might have known."

  Jeskar and Iarius turned to greet the new arrival: Orla, who approached them accompanied by her husband. Behind them walked Nessalir, her red braid undone, and Iarius was struck at the volume and beauty of her loose hair.

  The dragonblooded woman seemed to notice his gaze, and their eyes met. An image of her, naked with Orla and Toli, the muscles of her back flexing, came to Iarius' mind, and he felt himself flush at the memory. In that instant, he thought he saw realization flicker across Nessalir's face, and her pale skin began to approach the same shade as her draconic scales.

  "I have been interrogating our Remuran guest," Jeskar told Orla. "From what he has told me, I believe I was correct: we could strike a blow at the Imperials by attacking from the South. Their storehouse is on the riverbank."

  "And how would we get south of Paeliig, Jeskar? Remuran scouts prowl the woods, and their lookouts would notice us trying to sneak past the city."

  "We must strike them somehow, Orla! We cannot simply wait here for them to find us!"

  "You may not have a choice," said Nessalir. She now stood on the cliff, looking out over the forest that separated the mountains from Paeliig. "Look, see them moving through that clearing? Men and horses."

  She pointed, and Iarius followed her finger. He thought he could faintly detect motion where she'd indicated, but he could not say if it was truly there, or merely a trick brought on by his expectations.

  "You can see that far?" asked Toli.

  "Dragons hunt from the sky," Nessalir replied. "I have a dragon's eyes."

  "What do you see?" asked Jeskar.

  "As I said, men and horses. They are soldiers, and I suspect they are following mine and Iarius' trail."

  A certainty suddenly gripped Iarius' heart, and an awful dread began to creep across his bones. "The Equines," he said. "Pilus Opaedes will not sit by and allow a mercenary to take revenge for his fallen men. The Equine Centuria is coming."