Agraneia held out her hand to the xeno lying on the prison floor.

Eolh took it. His feathers brushed against her scales, and it made her skin shiver. Not with disgust, though she did feel an instant shock of instinctual repulsion. But when that faded, all she could think was how strange, to touch another person who looks like this.

How different.

The only feathers she had touched before were those of hunting birds, and the chopped fowl bought at the markets. Even then, their feathers were nothing like Eolh’s.

His black down was silky to the touch, and the branches - the barbules that filled the contoured shape of his finger feathers - were soft even where they were molting. Some of them were losing their black luster from the lack of nourishment.

But then, Agraneia probably didn’t look so good either.

“You saved my life,” Eolh said, as Agraneia pulled him up to his feet. He was surprisingly light, for someone of his size. He was stringy with muscle, and one of his hands had been cut off, leaving only a stump. It looked well healed, barely scarred at all. Maybe he had lived with it for many years.

“I guess I owe you one,” Eolh said, looking up at Agraneia.

She blinked.

Everything he had said to her. All those nights, he had talked, even when she would not - could not - open her mouth to talk back. The stories he had told her. Even if they were lies, they were lies told for her benefit. To make her feel better. And all the bruises and blood and broken bones he had suffered, when he could have left…

“No, corvani. Now we are even.”

Eolh shifted uncomfortably.

“Come on,” he said. “There isn’t time to waste.”

They pulled the Big One’s body into the cell, and shut the door. The door out of the prison block was still ajar. Eolh called the ‘all clear.’

It was nothing more than an alcove at the top of the stairs, with a wooden stool, and a cramped row of lockers made of wood. Agraneia could have bashed it open with her fist, but Eolh stopped her.

He pulled out the keys that had been dangling around the Big One’s belt. When had he stolen those?

One by one, he opened each of the wooden lockers. Mostly, they found soldiers’ uniforms. One was full of Agraneia’s old gear. Her gun was missing, of course. But her boots, stiff and caked with mud were still there. The hilt of her long knives sticking out of the sides.

She ran her fingers over her old uniform. Just touching it made her skin crawl. This was the reason, wasn’t it? The cause of all her problems.

“Put it on,” Eolh said. “It’s a good disguise.”

He was right, she knew. But still...

Agraneia swallowed down her distaste, and began to tear off her prisoner’s rags. Eolh turned away, embarrassed, as she undressed herself and slid her arms into the sleeves of the uniform, buttoning it up automatically, as she had done thousands of times before.

When she was done, Eolh was fitting something onto his hand. “Idiots,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe they just left this here.”

He held his hand up. A metal hand. Each finger, flexing individually. Smooth, as if the hand were not metal at all, but something organic.

Old tech.

But it was only a hand.

There was something else, hanging around his neck. A pair of goggles, it looked like. They didn’t look special, but the way he carefully slipped them carefully over his neck - maybe they’re sentimental. She couldn’t see any other reason why he would want a pair of old goggles. Thrass was a cloudy planet, and the wind wasn’t very fierce here.

Eolh swiped another soldier’s uniform, and winced as he stuck his arms into the sleeves. Agraneia could see where his shoulder must be fractured. When he was done, he looked awkward. All those feathers jutting out of the uniform only made him more conspicuous.

“You can’t wear that,” she said.

“Am I not good enough to join your military?” he crowed bitterly.

“You’ll stand out.” She looked around the small alcove, and spotted a black raincoat spread over the guard’s stool. Obviously, it had once belonged to the Big One, but he wouldn’t need it anymore.

“I’m not wearing that.” Eolh’s face twisted with disgust. It was surprising. Almost entrancing, how much emotion he could display at the corners of his beak. What a strange-looking species he was.

“Why not? It’ll hide your feathers.”

“That was his.”

“And now it’s yours. There isn’t time to argue. We have to leave the city. Now.”

“Fine.” Eolh took the coat from her hands, and started to put it on. It was long, and went down to past his knees. Four brass buttons held it together on either side.

“I’m not leaving the city yet,” Eolh said.

“What do you mean? You begged me to come with you. To get out of here.”

“I didn’t beg. I urged.”

Agraneia blew a frustrated breath through her nose. Were all avians this ornery?

Eolh said, “I came here to find two people. One, I made a deal with.”

“And the other?”

The corners of the avian’s beak lifted into a slight smile. “The other is my ward. The human. I’m his guardian, supposedly. Or one of them, at least. Which means I have to find him. Which means, I have to find the Tribune. Kirine will know where Poire went.”

“A politician?” Agraneia’s eyes narrowed. She felt a pang in her chest. Not quite anger, but something close.

Eolh held his hands up, the metal hand perfectly mirrored the real, in a gesture of appeal, “Hold on. It’s not like that. The Tribune… he’s different. At least, he might be, and that’s all I’ve got to go on. But he made a promise to me, and I’m going to hold him to it. If he’s still alive, that is.”

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“So,” Agraneia grunted. “After weeks of being in prison, and getting nearly beaten to death, you finally get out. And you want to go right back in?”

“Yes.”

This bird - this avian - really did have a death wish.

But then again…

So did she.

“Fine.”

“Fine? No arguments?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“There’s someone I need to help, too. And you look like you know how to get in places you shouldn’t be.”

“Huh,” Eolh cocked his head. Those black, glittering eyes boring into hers. “You know, I kinda took you for a loner.”

“Hmm,” Agraneia said, not really answering him.

“So, whose your person?”

“A scribe. A weakling, who did what I could not. He stood against us.”

“Any idea where he is? Any idea where they keep political prisoners?”

“More prisons. Follow me.” She was about to say, “And keep your head down,” But Eolh was already pulling the hood of his raincoat over his face, trying to keep his large, black beak out of sight.

This one was smart. Smarter than the people she was used to dealing with.

Agraneia lead the way, moving as quietly as she could through the rest of the prison block. There were no other guards on duty tonight, which was odd. Most of the prisoners were sleeping, and those that weren’t, didn’t want to start a fight with a cyran of Agraneia’s size. Too many weeks spent in the brig had done little to atrophy her muscles.

Agraneia and Eolh walked through all the prison blocks on the top floor. Then, they went downstairs, and checked those rows too.

No luck. No sign of the scribe at all.

“Two other prisons we can check. Two that I know of.”

“How do we get there?”

“Quietly,” she grunted.

It was the middle of the night, which meant it was raining. Sseran Thay City had few streetlamps, given that it was only meant to be occupied temporarily, and they avoided what lights they could. Eolh seemed at ease in the dark alleys between the ramshackle huts built by locals, and the newer, brick and mortar buildings that were already cracking from the moisture. She found that the avian was surprisingly good at picking his hiding spots, and even though he was limping, Agraneia didn’t have to slow down for him.

Still, there were too many patrols out. They swept the streets, far more frequently than she was used to.

Once, they stepped out of an alley between the shabby, collapsing buildings of the locals, and almost ran into a full cohort of soldiers. They were dragging six, heavy gun emplacements. Teams of soldiers hauling dozens of rope lines attached to cannons. The cannons’ wheels kept getting stuck in the mud, or in the grooves in the gravel roads, and the soldiers were splashing in the muddy water, trying to shovel the wheels out.

Other soldiers were setting up sandbags and other battlements. All aimed at the gate.

What the hells? Agraneia thought.

“What is it?” Eolh said.

“Something is coming,” she said. “Soon.”

“What do you mean? What are they doing?”

“They’re getting ready for an assault.”

But the only assault that would come from the gate… would be cyran. Agraneia had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, brought on by a new understanding. Was this why they kept me alive? Did they think I would fight for them?

Cyran against cyran.

No matter who won here, she knew who would lose. Every dullscale. And even the glitterskins who were low on the ladder. All fodder for some pointless machine. All, going to the same place.

For no damn reason.

They stopped, just inside the mouth of an alley. The low, leafy roof of a bamboo hut obscured them both from the view out there. Eolh was crouched low, leaning against a building and trying to gather his breath.

Agraneia stared out at the brick facade of the prison. There were dozens of tiny windows, evenly spaced along the wall. Each one, covered in bars. The same layout as our prison.

That would make it easier.

But because they were closer to the gate, the prison block was littered with guards and soldiers. This prison was just off the main road - the only paved road in Sseran Thay City. Through the next set of buildings, she could see the soldiers lining up. Taking on positions, as if they were waiting for something to come through the gate.

As if it would come at any minute.

A patrol of greenfins, standing nervously close to each other, gripping their rifles too tight, passed by the mouth of their alley. Headed towards the gate.

Agraneia tucked herself back into the darkness of the alley. It was cramped, and rain poured off the roof, onto her shoulder.

“Well,” Eolh’s voice rasped over her shoulder, “How do we do this?”

“Don't know.”

“You could go ask them where your friend is.”

She blinked. Gave Eolh a frown, “You want me to just ask them?”

Just the thought of it made her breath catch.

“Sure, why not? As far as they know, you’re with them.”

“And then what?”

“I can do the rest.” He said, flexing the fingers of his metal hand.

This wasn’t the kind of thing she did.

Give me a jungle, to hide in. Give me a target to kill. She could be quiet, but not like this.

“I’m not like you,” she said. “The lies don’t come easily for me. I can’t make up stories like you, about gods or prisoners or whatever.”

The avian sighed heavily.

“Look. You’re a soldier, right? Just act like it. That’s all you’re doing. Soldier’s rounds, prisoner inspection. Tell them you have orders to interrogate one of them. It’ll work.”

She stared at him, a moment longer.

“Probably,” he shrugged.

Agraneia gritted her teeth. Rounded her shoulders, and stood straight. And walked out of the alley, and into the light.

***

The dullscales stared at her, sour expressions on their faces.

There were four of them, huddled under the awning above the door, trying to stay out of the rain. Their rifles were slung over their shoulders, or strapped lazily in front of them, so they could rest their hands. None of them looked happy to see her. Only one of them, a striped one with pale white scales and dark stripes, saluted her. The others were chewing tobacco, and staring dully at her, or down the road towards the gate.

She could feel the nervous tension permeating their group. Friends, these soldiers were. They knew what was coming.

Agraneia saluted back. She heard someone spit.

Before she could say anything, the striped one said, “We’ve already got orders.”

Another said, “We’re staying put. I’m not going up with the rest of the fodder.”

She couldn’t blame them. This one would be bloody. The best possible chance for them was to stay out of the way.

“Not here to give orders,” Agraneia said.

“Then what?”

She ran through all the other words she had conjured up. All the answers to the questions they might ask. She could feel herself sweating, more than the heat asked for. Could feel her pulse quickening. Waiting for them to notice who she was. To call her out.

“I’m looking for someone,” she said awkwardly, “A... prisoner.”

The striped one tilted his head back towards the prison. “Well, they’re all in there.”

Agraneia almost went in, and then she remembered. “And the Tribune. Do you know where he is?”

The striped one’s eyes flashed. Suspicious. “That’s classified.”

“Classified my ass,” one of the other dullscale guards said. “Everybody knows where the General’s keeping him. Prefect’s tent, so they can keep a nice eye on him.”

“Thank you.”

And that was it. She saluted them, they saluted back - a bit more eagerly, now that they realized she wasn’t going to make them move.

And then, Agraneia simply walked inside.

As easy as the avian said it would be.

The scribe was on the top floor. He was sleeping. Agraneia had to watch him a long time to see his chest rise.

She left without waking him, just in case his excitement gave it away. She remembered the cell block he was in, and then headed back outside to find Eolh.

On the way back out, she heard voices. She paused, at the door, listening.

Officers. Glitterskins, shouting at the guards.

“Get back to the front!”

“We already got our orders!” the dullscales were digging in their heels.

“Well, you got new orders, dullscale!” An officer shouted back. A desk jockey with too much confidence, thanks to his perfectly trimmed uniform. He looked like one of the Prefect’s understudies, fresh from the Academy. “Or have you forgotten that I am your superior? I think not. Do as you are ordered!”

Agraneia stepped out, hoping their argument would keep the officer from noticing her. The door creaked as she shoved it open.

All their heads turned to stare at her.

The officer’s face flittered through several emotions. First he saw her. Then he stared at her. Then, his face was filled with a vague recognition. He opened his mouth, about to point at her, when one of the dullscales spat into the mud, splattering the officer’s boot with tobacco juice.

“Fuck this. I’m not going to die for some shit stain glitterskin. You go up there, if you’re so keen.”

And the soldier turned on his heel, and stalked off into the night. The others looked at him. Looked at the officer. And then, they followed their insubordinate compatriot in solidarity.

“Soldiers!” The officer shouted at him. Ineffectual. “You! Dullscales! Get back here right now!”

Agraneia slipped away into the night.