Mara sat cross-legged on a pillow, Nick under her arm, and watched Tiff boil tea on a small pot-bellied stove. The woman’s hands shook, the clattering of the pot lid like a gong in the otherwise silent space.

Eli stood from his seat beside Mara and went to Tiff. He placed a hand on her arm and leaned in, murmuring something in her ear. She nodded once as he spoke, and once more when he finished. And then she turned and simply left. Only one dog–a shaggy thing with arthritic hips–had followed them into the tent. It trailed after her, head hanging.

“Is she okay?” Mara murmured as Eli straightened the lid and adjusted the teapot atop the stove.

“She’s alright.” He returned to the low table, resuming his seat beside her. “News is slow to reach her, and she’d received some inconsistent information. She’s relieved we made it here.”

Judging by the woman’s reaction, Mara guessed that the inconsistent information was an account of Davy’s passing that included Eli in the body count. She couldn’t verify that guess with Nick present, and didn’t really want to think about it anyway, so she decided to press for a different class of information. “She seems extremely relieved. I thought you said she doesn’t like people.”

“I said she was slow to warm, not that she was incapable of it.”

“More vague nonsense,” she grumbled, reaching for one of the puffs of fried dough Tiff had set on the table before she went off to wage her losing battle with the teapot lid. “She certainly seems to have warmed towards you. Oh, sweet Depths, this is delicious. Here, love,” she placed what was left of the bread in her son’s hand before he could reach for it–he always preferred food she’d already started to eat–and took another.

“They’re called kokas.” Eli took one himself.

“You were telling me about Tiff’s warmth towards you,” Mara prompted when she was done chewing.

“Was I?”

“I believe you were, yes.”

“We’re friends.”

“Mm.”

“I help with the herd now and then, when we’re passing through.”

“Hm. You’re warming to the truth. Not as warm as Tiff, but—”

“Mara.”

“So you helped her horses.”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it. Tiff keeps mostly to herself, so when she makes friends they’re of great value to her.” He shoved an entire koka in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “And when she comes back, don’t ask her if she’s alright or act concerned. That’ll annoy her.”

“No wonder the two of you get along.”

He took another koka, only to hand it over to Nick’s grasping hand. “You’re full of spit this morning.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I think I’m just excited that Nick talking,” she admitted, “and that we’ve made it so far. I’m feeling hopeful. We crossed the Ribbon! Well, you crossed the Ribbon. I bobbed about attached to a log.”

“Nonsense, you were instrumental.”

She opened her mouth to retort, mostly to the obvious sarcasm in his tone, when the flap lifted, spilling bright yellow sunlight and intimidating woman into the tent. Mara clapped her mouth shut and watched Tiff toe off her boots by the opening, as they’d all been instructed to do upon entering the tent. The ground was covered in an overlapping assortment of rugs, the walls similarly bedecked, giving the entire place a claustrophobic coziness. There were no windows, but light poured in through the open flap and seeped through the hide that formed the ceiling, though not through the walls, muffled as they were by the rugs.

As Tiff moved about her small kitchen area, she passed occasionally through the beam of light from the open flap, and Mara could see tear streaks on her cheeks, but her face had assumed a stern, unfeeling mask. This, Mara thought, was more what she had expected as Tiff set the tea on the table and sat down across from them, folding her long legs gracefully beneath her.

“I apologize for my dramatics,” she said to Mara, pouring a cup of tea. “Would you like cream and sugar?”

“Oh! I can prepare it, you don’t have–” The back of Eli’s hand tapped her knee beneath the low table, clearly communicating that she needed to stop talking. Mara thought of the books she’d read on Wanderer culture, back when she was a girl and enamored of the nomadic lifestyle. Hospitality was at the root of most Wanderer customs.

“Cream, thank you,” she corrected. “Just a dash is fine.”

Tiff prepared her tea, then Eli’s, without asking how he took it. Her eyes flicked to Nick. “Does the child drink tea?”

“Oh. Um–”

“Goat’s milk?”

“Yes! Yes, please.”

Tiff poured a serving into a small earthenware mug, and for the next ten minutes all Mara could focus on was Nick and wondering whether Tiff would let her help carry the rug out and wash it when he inevitably spilled.

Eli, of all people, carried the conversation, though ‘conversation’ might have been too generous a word. Tiff’s reticence put even his to shame, and the entire exchange resembled an interview, all dry questions and monosyllabic answers.

“How are the horses?”

“Good.”

“Got any in foal still?”

“Three.”

“Any issues this season?”

“No.”

So it went on, and Mara was forced to set aside her theory that Tiff and Eli were lovers. She’d never witnessed less sexual tension in her life. But there was still that initial hug, and Tiff’s fingers continued to tremble, furtive eyes darting up to Eli’s face and then back down to her teacup like she wanted to take in every inch but didn’t dare do so all at once. Though perhaps not in the way of a lover, scraping together tawdry details. More like the way Mara spied on Nick when he was playing on his own and she wanted to watch without drawing his attention.

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Mara drank a cup of tea, and then another, and the sun and stove warmed the interior of the tent until the air was thick and bright. She leaned back on a cushion braced against the sturdy wall of the tent, every muscle in her body telling the story of weeks in Ashfall, the frigid river crossing, the endless zig zag climb of the cliffs. Her eyelids grew heavy. Nick curled up beside her, head on her lap, fingers toying listlessly with the fringe of the cushion he lay on.

“Mara?”

She startled. Eli crouched beside her, Tiff somehow having materialized across the room at the stove.

“I’m sorry,” she said, licking dry lips. “I think I fell asleep.”

“Tiff is going to get you and Nick settled.”

Tiff chose that moment to turn around, wiping her hands on a rag and fixing Mara with shrewd, watchful eyes. “My partner is away on business in Clearwater. You can stay in his tent while you’re here.”

“Oh, thank you.” She had wondered where they would sleep, if they would sleep, or if they’d just collect the horses and be on their way. It was a relief to learn there would be some respite, even if the offer roused a new litany of questions she didn’t know how to broach. Hadn’t Eli said that Tiff kept to herself? And now she had a partner? “He won’t mind?”

Tiff shook her head with a slight quirk of her lips. “Raz follows the Sisters. Sacrifice, Generosity, and Communion are the air he breathes. He’ll only be sorry he wasn’t here to make a show of sleeping in the dirt on your behalf.”

“Oh. Um.” Mara looked to Eli for guidance on how to receive this bizarre revelation, but he was pointedly studying his tea, brow furrowed and lips pressed tight in poorly masked amusement. “Okay, then.”

“Shall I take you?”

“Oh. Now? Sure! Yes. Let me just–” She wrangled Nick’s sleepy form upright and stood, hauling him into her arms. He snuggled against her chest with a contented murmur.

“I’ll get your bag,” Eli said quietly, and they followed Tiff out of her tent and across a short expanse of bare, trodden dirt to another, slightly smaller tent. Tiff untied a series of leather straps and pulled the flap aside, gesturing for them to enter ahead of her.

This new tent was similar to the other in structure, though the carpets lining the walls and floor were in varying shades of blue and green where Tiff’s had been an uncoordinated muddle. It, too, had a stove in the corner though it was clearly cold and unlit. Opposite the stove, a pallet on the floor was piled with pillows, blankets, and treated furs.

“This space is yours for the duration of your stay,” Tiff said, and Mara turned to find her still standing near the entry flap. Mara’s pack sat beside her feet, and Eli was nowhere to be found. The delicate sheen of tears had long since dried from the woman’s face, and she struck an imposing picture, silhouetted against the sunlight streaming in the open entryway. “I’ll select your horses while you rest. Eli wants you to be off by dusk.”

“Thank you,” Mara said. “Thank you so much. For everything. Your hospitality. The horses. If there’s anything I can do to–”

“May I borrow you for a short conversation?”

Mara fought not to keep her face neutral as Tiff stared her down, no uncertainty in her expression or posture. She’d asked the question like she already knew the answer.

“Of course.” She glanced at Nick, already asleep. “Should we step outside?”

Tiff ducked through the entryway by way of answer, and Mara followed her, wincing against the bright light. The two women moved away from the doorway and then stood awkwardly by the wall of the tent. Or, Mara stood awkwardly. Tiff merely stood—still and sure—not deliberately elegant, but elegantly unaffected by deep social conundrums such as what to do with one’s hands and where to look during protracted conversational pauses. She stared steadily at Mara.

“So,” Mara crossed her arms, decided that looked too confrontational, uncrossed them and propped her hands on her hips, decided that looked too cocksure, clasped her hands in front of her, decided that looked too insecure–

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Blunt. Abrupt. And by the warmth in Tiff’s unblinking amber eyes, genuine.

Mara re-crossed her arms over her chest. “Thank you.”

“Davy was a good man. Courageous.”

Mara thought of the fear he let her see in his eyes, the desperation with which he clung to her.

“He was.”

“I’ve met Rorick and Elise. Several times.”

Mara frowned, unsure how to participate in this disjointed conversation. Fortunately, Tiff continued without provocation.

“They’re strong people. Courageous people. Like Davy.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“They thought highly of him. And he thought highly of you.”

“I….” How exactly did one respond to a vague, impassively delivered secondhand complement? “That’s nice to hear.”

Tiff’s eyes bore into her, and in seeking respite from the intensity of the woman’s scrutiny, Mara finally caught sight of Eli. He wandered idly amid the herd of livestock. As she watched, a goat trotted up to him, butting his thigh gently with its horns. He stopped and rested a hand atop its head for a few heartbeats, and then moved on.

Tiff said, following her gaze. “Eli is treating you well?”

Mara frowned, curiosity drawing her more comfortably into the conversation. “Of course.”

“He’s a good man as well.”

“I agree.”

The other woman gave a perfunctory nod, as if to validate the correctness of the answer. “May I give you a piece of advice that is not properly mine to give?”

“I… sure?”

Another perfunctory nod, and then Tiff’s turned away from Eli and pinned Mara once more with her stare. “Davy was very important to the Linharts, and when you go to them,” she tipped her chin toward the tent, where Nick lay sleeping, “you’ll be bringing a piece of him with you. That alone would be enough to earn their confidence. But Davy also loved you, and spoke to them of his admiration for you. As such, they will bring you into their family as a beloved daughter.”

“I’m not sure if that’s true.”

“It is. My advice is not to squander the value they assign you,” Tiff said evenly. “If you don’t mind me saying, you carry an air of Orderbred timidity that will not serve you well in the elevated seat the Linharts will undoubtedly craft for you.”

Mara pulled her head back, unsure if she was feeling more confused or more affronted. Orderbred timidity? The fact that Tiff’s assessment was accurate only made it more annoying that she’d leapt to it so quickly. All she could manage was, “I won’t.”

“I’m not trying to insult you.”

Not trying, perhaps, but succeeding nonetheless. “Was I to take ‘Orderbred timidity’ as a compliment?”

Tiff’s mouth widened in a delighted, almost predatory smile. “Of course not. But I don’t believe you are timid. I believe living as you have in the Capital has made you behave that way, and I’m imploring you to leave that behavior here in the plains where the wind and sun can have their way with it. It has no place at Elise and Rorick’s right hand at a time when they are most in need of a strong and quelling presence.”

Mara didn’t know if she wanted a place at Elise and Rorick’s right hand, and if it was a quelling presence they needed, she was hardly the most qualified person for the job.

“I think you should be having this conversation with him,” she said, gesturing toward Eli, still winding through the gathered animals.

Tiff shook her head sharply. “It’s for his sake that I am having it with you.” She sighed. “But I know I have no place offering such personal advice. I hope I haven’t overstepped too severely.”

Mara’s life didn’t have many–or any–boundaries these days, so it was hard to say what overstepping even entailed. “You haven’t. You’ve just given me something to think about is all.”

“Thank you for giving my word consideration.” Tiff glanced over at Eli once more. As they watched, he stopped beside a flagrantly pregnant mare and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’d best go stop him,” she said, unmistakable fondness rounding out the sharp edges of her voice. “On Poli, the man has a sickness.”

Mara was befuddled, but at this point in her journey, befuddlement had become a steady state and she hardly registered the fresh wave. Even if she had asked for clarification, Tiff was already gone. She ambled purposefully toward her herd, leaving Mara to slink back into her tent, wondering with newfound tension what truly awaited her at the end of this journey.