“How in Mashal did you find us?” Zantheus said to Leukos. He had clearly picked up some of the sailors’ turns of phrase from his sea voyage.

“Simple,” said Leukos. “I just followed the trail of destruction. You haven’t gone very far.”

Zantheus sighed.

Tromo was staring up at Leukos, wide-eyed and curious, though this expression was normal for him.

When Zantheus noticed this, he said “Oh, Tromo, this is Leukos. I met him when I washed up on the beach after our escape from the pirates. He has very kindly offered to show us the way to Qereth.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tromo,” said Leukos, with a twinkle in his eye.

If Tromo had been able to speak, he would have said, “Yes, I know your name already. I’ve met you before. You were in my dream last night. You told me to go after Zantheus and then I followed him into a tunnel under a mountain.”

But he wasn’t, so he didn’t. Instead he just nodded, and kept his puzzlement and wonder to himself.

“Are you ready to go, Anthē?” asked Leukos. “I imagine Keleb will be unconscious for a while.”

“Yes, he will,” said Zantheus.

Anthē only nodded, bewildered and still recovering from the ordeal, not taking much comfort from the brusque manner of the men. Only Tromo made any effort, coming up to her and shyly taking her hand in attempt to comfort her after what had just happened.

They returned to the inn and Leukos paid the perplexed and mildly traumatised Luma, not wanting to waste any time by staying for breakfast, before leaving.

Back in the street, Leukos announced “Well, we’re almost ready to set out for Qereth.”

“Almost?” said Zantheus despairingly.

“Yes,” said Leukos. “We need to buy some provisions first. Avarah is a very bare country, and we have a good couple-of-weeks’ or so trek across it before we arrive in the forest.”

Zantheus conceded that it would be necessary to purchase some food. He was not used to having to think about feeding himself. In the Sanctuary he had long ago risen to a rank at which he did not need to be involved in meal preparation.

Anthē led them to Ir’s market street. She acted efficiently, now nearly as eager to be moving on as Zantheus had been for the past few days. They set about trying to furnish themselves as bountifully and as lightly as they could manage. For transporting the foodstuffs, four fine cloth-packs were chosen, designed so as to hang over their shoulders while allowing them to walk uninhibited. Even Leukos consented to wear one, and Zantheus caught him removing an enormous wad of paper from somewhere in his tunic and depositing it inside. In addition to his pack, Zantheus was also to carry a small collection of pans and cooking utensils, which he hung off of it, turning himself into a reluctant sort of mobile kitchen. He made no complaint about the weight, he could cope with that easily; it was the minor dent in his pride to which he objected. But he kept his grumblings to a minimum.

Anthē was confused when Leukos kept asking her opinion on different purchases: “Is this too big?” “Can we cook potatoes in this?” “How many of these do we need?” When he did it for a fourth time, she had to ask him “Why do you care what I think?”

“Well,” said Leukos, “I assume you’ll be doing most of the cooking...?”

Anthē was incredibly annoyed by this. Though she supposed Leukos would not be much good at cooking, since he insisted on always scribbling away in that book, and she almost suspected that Zantheus had never had to cook a meal for himself in his life. That left...her and the orphan boy. She cursed under her breath. It was bad enough she was travelling with a pompous knight and an enigmatic lunatic, now she was going to have be their maid as well! She was not even a particularly experienced cook. But, resigned to her fate, she took over the buying of provisions to stop Leukos from asking her incessant questions.

She chose the fruit and vegetables she thought would keep for longest, selected a few joints of salted meat, made sure they had plenty of rice. She did all this in a slightly preoccupied fashion; she still had something else on her mind, besides the trial they had just experienced. Leukos still paid for everything—neither Anthē nor Zantheus had a shekel to their name—somehow producing all of the money that they needed seemingly out of nowhere. They each wondered where a ‘wanderer’ such as himself had got hold of so much money, but they did not ask him about this. In any case, after they had acquired a good deal of food he suddenly announced that his reserves had run out.

“Oh, that’s the last of it,” he said jovially. “Onwards to Avarah, then.”

“Yes, let us be moving,” said Zantheus.

“Wait,” said Anthē. Zantheus’s heart sank within him. “Before we go, I have just one more errand to run.” She had decided something.

Zantheus very nearly lost his temper. “What could there possibly be left for you to do? We have wasted enough time in this town.”

“You don’t understand,” said Anthē. “I have just one more thing I really have to do. Alone.” She stared him down, dead set on this one more thing. “I have to return a message to someone before we leave. It won’t take long, I promise.”

“Do you have to do it alone?” he asked. Now that she had taken on her new role as head chef Zantheus was less keen to be rid of her. Now he was worried that she would wander off on her own without them. “Would you not let me come with you?”

Anthē was surprised. She did not want any of them to come along with her. They were part of her new life. She wanted to deal with this one thing from her old life quickly, get it out of the way, and then leave. She thought of Keleb, and the possibility that he had come round and was still after her returned to her mind. Maybe it was a good idea to keep the knight with her for this errand. Just in case.

“Alright, you can come, Zantheus. Leukos, we won’t be long. Do you want to wait for us at the top of the high street?”

“Alright,” said Leukos. “I will take Tromo and meet you at the top of the east end of the high street.”

“Do not let him out of your sight,” Zantheus said to him as Anthē set off. “Go straight there, and stay there.”

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“Yes, Zantheus,” said Leukos obediently.

Zantheus and Anthē walked through Ir, engaging in the now familiar practice of dodging the hurrying people and vehicles. They turned off down one of the side streets, and soon down another. This was clearly another residential area, it looked a lot like Yashar Street. After about five minutes’ walk, Anthē stopped in front of a door. For a moment, she just stood in front of it, without doing anything.

“Are you going to go inside?” Zantheus asked.

Anthē took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said.

She knocked.

The door was opened by a short middle-aged woman. One look at Anthē and she blinked with surprise.

“Hello, Mum,” said Anthē.

“Anthē...” The woman did bear quite a strong resemblance to Anthē, though she was slightly broader, slightly shorter, her skin tawnier. Her hair was dyed an artificial red, clearly to cover up the grey of age, and she was wearing a large amount of makeup. But only this small hint and a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth betrayed her. You could see that, once upon a time, she had been quite beautiful. After being struck temporarily speechless by the sudden apparition of her daughter, she recovered herself swiftly. “How are you?” she asked. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

This was not the response Anthē had been expecting. She was not prepared for this. She had been ready to unleash a torrent of anger at her mother, but here she was, standing looking at her, acting as if nothing had happened, as if she had simply been away on a holiday for the last three years. She had to fight back tears.

“Oh......you know...I’m alright...” she said, falling back into old habits.

“And who is this strapping young man?” said her mother.

“Um...this is-” started Anthē, but Zantheus required no introduction.

“Greetings, madam. I am Zantheus, First Paragon of the Aythian Order, Champion of Awmeer.”

“Well, lah-dee-dah!” said Anthē’s mother. This too was not the response Zantheus had expected or desired. “And how have you come to be acquainted with my daughter?” she continued, putting on her most refined accent. “Won’t you both come in?” Zantheus struggled to find words.

Anthē found them for him. “No, we’re not coming in, Mum. I’m going to Qereth with him. That’s what I came to tell you. I’ve run away from Keleb with Zantheus and some other......men. They’ve offered to take me with them. I’m leaving. You won’t be receiving money from me anymore.”

At this news, her mother’s face, which had put on a smile when she had recovered her wits, turned quite sour. Her voice went lower, she spoke more slowly. “Now look here, young lady. I know we haven’t always gotten on at the best of times, but you’ve got no right to leave me in the lurch like this. I’ve always acted with your best interests at heart!”

Anthē altered her tone also. “Best interests! Ha!” she said with venom. Zantheus could sense the conversation was about to take a turn for the worse.

A new voice sounded from behind Anthē’s mother. “What’s all the noise all about? Who is it, Dendra?”

Another face appeared in the doorway. It belonged to a slightly chubby, brown-haired man who looked a little younger than “Dendra”, whom he was addressing.

“And who’s this?” spat Anthē.

“Anthē...this is Atos,” said her mother cautiously. “Atos, meet Anthē, my daughter.”

It was clear that Atos felt uncomfortable, but he offered his hand by way of greeting all the same. “Pleased to meet you.” He looked surprised.

Anthē erupted. The extended hand only had the effect of releasing the tidal wave of rage that she had been keeping at bay. “Don’t offer your hand to me!” she said. “I don’t want to even touch the latest parasite that’s attached itself to my mother!”

“Please, calm down, Anthē,” said Zantheus. It had no effect.

“Don’t you talk to him that way!” said Dendra.

“And you!” Anthē focused her anger on the middle-aged woman, terrible in her fury. “How dare you forbid me to leave? Best interests! If you had my best interests at heart, why did you send me to go and work in a brothel for three years?”

“Please, calm down, Anthē,” said Zantheus again, and again to no effect.

“Have you any idea of the horror you’ve put me through?” said Anthē. “How could you do it, Mum? How could you live with yourself, knowing where you’d packed off your darling little Anthē to? And the money! You’ve been living off it all this time! Do you have any idea of half the things I’ve had to do to bring you that money? Here’s your stupid message back!” Anthē produced the paper message she’d received from somewhere in the folds of her cloak and flung it scrunched up at her mother. “‘Dear Anthē, I hear you’re back in town’! I ask you! It’s like I’m your friend who’s been away travelling for a while! How dare you write to me like that! You’re a poor excuse for a mother!”

“Please, Anthē...” said her mother. Atos hugged her with one arm, staring disapprovingly at Anthē. “When your father left-”

“Don’t bring Dad into this! What would Dad say? Dad would never have let you do this to me! Dad wasn’t scum, like you are!”

“Now that’s enough,” said Atos. “You have no right to speak to your mother that way!”

“Don’t you tell me what to do! You’re not my Dad! He would never have let you do this to me! Maybe I’ll go and live with him instead. Maybe I’ll go and find Dad! For all I know he might be in Qereth!”

“No, he’s not in Qereth, Anthē,” said her mother sorrowfully.

“How would you know? Has he written to you?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Ha! I thought not! Why would he ever want to say anything to you again?”

“No Anthē-”

“What would he have to say about any of the men men you’ve had since he left? What would he have to say about this latest fool?”

Atos went red.

“Anthē, please. You don’t understand,” said Dendra.

“Oh, I understand all too well, mother!”

“No, you don’t understand... Your father hasn’t written to me because he’s dead.”

The word hit Anthē in the chest. She flinched. The world twisted around her. For a moment she was silent.

Then: “Wh-what..? What d’you...?

“I’m so sorry, darling. I was going to tell you...one day. He didn’t walk out on us. He got in a fight at the tavern one night and...and...I didn’t want to tell you because I knew it would break your heart.” She had been right. Anthē couldn’t breathe. “What could I do? I had no means of supporting you... And you always reminded me of him. You’ve got his eyes, you know. It was too much for me. I had to send you away...I had to...”

Tears poured down Anthē’s cheeks. She was in shock. The three of them waited to see what she would do.

Somehow, Zantheus realised first, just in time. He jumped in to restrain her, catching her arms and holding them behind her back as she threw herself at her mother, screaming profanities and incomprehensible insults in equal measure. She was surprisingly strong, but still nowhere near being able to escape Zantheus.

“Please, stop, Anthē!” he implored her. “This will not help you! Forget her! Let us leave!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” she shouted at him. He was both repulsed and moved by her plight. He wanted to let Anthē go and leave her to attack her mother, and to turn and leave for Qereth without her. But something in him had resonated when he had seen her break down on being told that her father was no longer alive. So he held on tightly. What was more, it was the noble thing to do.

Anthē’s mother could only mutter platitudes. “I’m sorry, Anthē...” she said, looking at the floor.

Anthē went limp, her rage defeated by her despair. “You’re lying! You’re lying!” she said. “I never want to see you again!”

“Goodbye, Anthē,” said Dendra, head bowed in shame. Atos shut the door.

Anthē sat down in the street and wept. Zantheus was not used to seeing anyone cry, not least of all a woman he had only known for a matter of days. It was a habit of Anthē’s he would have to get used to. He did not know what he was meant to say. After a while, when it seemed she had cried out most of her tears, he tried saying “Come on, we should go and find those other two ‘men’ you mentioned.”

Anthē sniffed. “Zantheus, was that a joke?”

“It may have been…” said Zantheus, more than a little embarrassed.