I was still hugging Jethro when Agnes found us. Rather than break up the existing hug she bundled us both up in her arms. It was so good to be back with them that for a moment I was able to forget everything weighing on me, the violence, the loss, the responsibilities, and remember what it was like when all I had to worry about was that I had no gear, little food and my only clothing was my underwear.

Eventually both Jethro and Agnes had done enough hugging and released me. Agnes held me at arms length and inspected my face. “You’re exhausted,” she said.

“Well today has been one hell of a month,” I said.

“Let’s get you, and all your people, settled in. We can catch up later.”

“But the Ostians are after us,” I said. “I don’t think they’ll come into the woods tonight but I could be wrong. If not tonight it’s just a matter of time…” I would have said more but Agnes shushed me.

“That’s what we’ve been expecting. It is prepared for. Don’t worry about it tonight. Rest. Take care of yourself. You’re no good to anyone in this state.

I let Jethro lead me through a labyrinth of tents and improvised shelters and then shove me inside a large frame tent with several camp beds. I spent the rest of the night wrapped in a blanket on one of the beds, occasionally drifting out of the depths of sleep whenever someone was assigned to one of the beds.

###

I didn’t wake up properly until the sun was well up and the light was streaming in through the thin fabric of the tent. By then I was alone. The other camp beds were empty and neatly remade but I saw plenty of signs that they’d been occupied during the night.

I stumbled out of the tent and into the bustling community. In the daylight I could see that the once compact campsite now sprawled as far as I could see in every direction. They’d thinned the trees out as the camp had spread but there were still plenty of the bigger trees left.

I couldn’t see anything, or anyone, familiar but I could smell soap. I shouldered my pack and followed the scent hoping that there was still a morning bathing queue to join.

The settlement had clearly grown in a hurry and with very little central planning but I could also see signs that someone had regularly been going through it and tidying things up a bit. There was every kind of tent I could imagine, all pitched in a rough grid structure, taking advantage of the shade of the remaining trees. In areas where the trees were closer together there were clusters of hammocks strung from their trunks, sharing the protection of waxed rain cloths.

Higher up in the branches I spotted structures that might be lookout posts but might also be tree houses. I was starting to get a real “Robin Hood and his merry men of Sherwood Forest” kind of vibe about the place. That worried me. It struck me as a dangerous myth to buy into. Rag-tag groups of scrappy rebels tend not to do so well in the real world. Continent spanning empires tend to just steamroller them into the dust.

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And then I thought about my ancestors fighting the Romans until the Romans decided that Caledonia had nothing they wanted enough to finish subjugating the locals and left them alone. I thought about the American colonists fighting off the British Empire. I thought about how the people of Vietnam spent 20 years getting rid of the local colonial power, France, and then the VietCong fought off the Americans.

Plucky rebels can fight off vast empires, not by defeating them in some final battle, but by attrition. Make the candle not worth the game. Make it clear that the cost of defeating you won’t be worth whatever they’ll win. Be too much trouble to winkle out of whatever hole you’re in.

The smell of soap pulled me through the camp until I came to the river bank. It looked different from how I remembered. It looked like someone had drastically altered the shape of the river to create a deep pool where people could easily swim and draw water, and a quay where shallow river boats could dock.

Agnes was there. Not orc-handling barrels of water, but keeping an eye on the shower block. I should have realised that this many people would require something more than barrels of water warmed with magic rocks but even if I had thought of that I wouldn’t have expected something this permanent.

It was a rough and roofless stone structure, fully plumbed with running water that seemed at least warm, maybe hot if there weren’t too many other bathers. The whole thing drained into a covered channel that let the soapy water flow back into the river downstream of any camp activity.

There were only a few people still bathing which reminded me how late in the morning it was. I was just wondering if I should shower without disturbing Agnes when she noticed me standing there and gathered me up in another mighty hug.

“What do you think of the new facilities?” she said.

“Very organised and practical but it lacks charm,” I said.

“If you’re going to use it you’d better be quick about it. It’s almost time for the changeover to a laundry.”

###

I bathed as quickly as I could but even so there was a queue of people waiting to wash things when I finished. I stood by Agnes, towelling my mane dry as the shower block reformed itself. The partitions folded back into the wall to let in more light, the shower heads moved down and the shower trays moved up to become sinks.

“That’s impressive,” I said. “In Moonstone they’d be asking if you’d had the Dwarves in.”

“Actually, yes,” said Agnes. “Probably the very Dwarf they say that about, Master Shanks of the guild of Plumbers and Engineers. He’s one of the group that escaped Moonstone with Jethro. Without that group we’d never have been able to expand to take in all the refugees.

“He never said anything about it last night,” I said.

“Damn right,” said Agnes, “You needed sleep, not chat. Let’s get you something to eat. If you spend some time around the canteen you’re sure to run into Jethro sooner or later.”

###

It turned out to be even easier than expected to find Jethro. He was already sitting at one of the huge, rough wood, canteen tables when we got there. He was having tea with Amris, who had somehow preserved his remaining stash of teas and his travel teapot even through the abandonment of the train.

Agnes insisted that I sit down with Jethro and Amris and that she would bring me food.

Jethro got me a mug and Amris poured me some tea. There was a little pot of honey just sitting out on the table. I hadn’t had much access to sugar on the long escape from Moonstone so a little drizzle of wildflower honey in Amris’ strong breakfast tea seemed like one of the finest things I’d ever tasted.

It remained near the top of the list right up until Agnes returned with a plate of crusty bread, cold ham, and mushrooms fried in bacon grease.

As I ate Jethro told me the tale of his escape from Moonstone.