They woke to the morning birds and ate another cold trail meal as the sun rose. The wind was still and only a few clouds hung in the sky. It looked like they would have the perfect travelling weather and the group was collectively eager to set out. Walking would dispel the chill.

There was the issue of the signature chalu tunic. Irina balled it up and stuffed it under a bush. This place wasn’t exactly a thoroughfare, but there was no reason to just leave it lying around. Elseth had a spare shirt in her bag and let Irina borrow it.

“So, we should probably keep away from the river as best we can,” Kent said. “What with those two chalu searching along it. But too far west and we get into too much traffic. We will have to thread in between. I don’t know this exact area as well as some others, but I do know that it’s a lot less populated than it used to be. There will be some old paths but be prepared to do some roughing. With a bit of luck we can manage this.”

“A bit of luck is all we’ve ever needed,” Jon said. “Lead the way.”

So they set out. There were no paths in the immediate area and the forest was quite wild. Progress was slow. Irina’s muscles were still sore and stiff from being pushed to their limits during the demon’s chase but they gradually softened as the morning wore on.

The others seemed to be bearing it all rather better than she was. She really had been spoiled by Lady Lumiara’s power.

They came across an impassable pile-up of dead trees, flanked by thick, impassable bushes. Irina thought of all the times she’d cleared a similar obstruction with a leap, then suppressed her frustration as she joined the others in seeking a way around.

“Irina?” Elseth said. “If we do run into Ana and Bors... do you have any tips?”

“Tips?” Irina repeated, and stopped. She’d known this surely had to come up and hadn’t been looking forward to it.

“For fighting them,” the woman said delicately. Irina’s words about the two of them were clearly on her mind.

Irina crossed her arms and shook her head.

“Have you ever seen one of us...”

She caught herself again.

“... one of them fight?”

“Once,” Kent said. “From a distance. A Bright Lord and his slaves were battling a demon.”

“They are strong and fast and carry items of power,” Irina told them. “I have been quite active for these three years, but I’ve only twice had real trouble. Once when ambushed by a group of bandits and once when three of us fought a greater demon.”

She got lost in those days for a few moments, then returned to the topic.

“I almost never saw a chalu fight someone they could just snag with their ilthin. If they come at you then assume that will be their opening move and be ready to dodge. If you do manage to dodge, then seize the window and just run.”

She shrugged.

“Outrunning them won’t work, though. Much like with the demon. Try to lose them in the forest. They have no special gifts for finding people. And... they will surely focus on me. We had best simply not encounter them at all, but if we do I think our best strategy will be to split up and try to make our way to the border separately.”

“I don’t like the idea,” Jon said.

“Well, neither do I,” Irina admitted. “So let’s just be careful and quiet.”

They made it around the trees and the terrain that followed was somewhat less harsh, allowing them to pick up the pace.

They walked up a modest incline and then down it again, through a valley between two small hills and around a thick copse. Irina kept her eyes open for potential danger, as ever, but also for a stick of the right size. She picked up a couple along the way but dismissed both as too rotten. She found a good one shortly before they reached the marshland.

It was a large clearing that would have been beautiful if not for some cruel twist of nature that fed it more water than it needed. Although what it lacked in beauty it did make up for in atmosphere. The late morning sun was only just reaching it now, raising up clouds of mist.

“Have I ever told you how much I just love wet feet?” Elseth asked sarcastically.

They took off their footwear and slung it around their necks, and Kent embarked on the task of leading them through a relatively pleasant route.

“This really is travel, isn’t it?” Irina mused out loud as her feet complained about the cold. “Wet and tiring and awful and dangerous, but fun to speak of later.”

Jon chuckled.

“I think you just summed it all up.”

“Do you two remember the swamp witch?” she asked, although of course they would remember. She looked at their misty surroundings, the semi-concealed rocks and spindly trees. “This reminds me of her.”

“Hah!” Elseth exclaimed. “Oh yes, I remember.”

“That does sound like a story worth sharing,” Kent said pointedly.

“It was in a swamp by the roots of the Kesak Mountains,” Irina said. “There had been a village there, but it had mostly sunk into the morass. All the residents had long since picked up and moved, save this one old woman. Some of her neighbours insisted she was a witch who consorted with fell spirits and demons. But we were hired to find an old heirloom in the village and we were in rather dire need for money.”

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Kent had to focus on where he put his feet but glanced frequently over his shoulder.

“We went under cover of darkness, just as a mist began to rise from the waters. But she heard us. And that was how we found ourselves hiding behind trees as this old crone walked back and forth, screaming about the curses and devils she would visit on us for trespassing.”

“I have never heard someone scream like that,” Elseth said. “Not with such hate and rage. I don’t know how her throat withstood it.”

“Nor do I,” Irina said.

“She terrified me,” Jon said with another chuckle. “I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”

“Did she find you?” Kent asked.

“No,” Irina said. “We did find the heirloom and sneak back out, as she ranted in the distance.”

She smiled.

“Perhaps we escaped the wrath of a terrible witch. I think it is likelier that she was just insane. But we... didn’t feel much like finding out which it was.”

“By the gods, did we not,” Elseth said.

“But it is funny to think about, isn’t it?” Jon said. “That we were cowering in fear of some pathetic old hermit.”

“It is,” Kent said with a smile at their expense. “It really is.”

They shared a little laugh, then left the marsh behind. They walked a while further to fully leave the damp behind as well, then dried their feet on grass before putting their footwear back on.

It was around noon that they finally came upon a path. It was little used enough to seem safe to use, but first they would rest. And there was no pressing reason to do so out in the open.

They found themselves a spot amidst the trees, where they all had space and ought to be invisible to passers-by. Irina let out a relieved groan as she slumped down up against a tree.

“Have you gotten soft?” Jon said teasingly as he sat down in a more dignified fashion.

“Perhaps,” she admitted. “Or at least accustomed to having more strength to draw upon.”

That visibly made him feel awkward, which hadn’t been her intention. She said nothing more and was just happy to receive her portion of the awful food.

No one immediately brought up a topic after they’d finished, so she turned her attention to the stick. Jon loaned her that green knife and she got to work carving. The first knot flew off way too easily and she almost nicked herself.

She put a hand on the back of her neck, where Jon had cut through the collar. How had he even managed that without injuring her?

She continued more slowly, marvelling at the blade’s cutting power. The necessary caution was a blessing. Inaction seemed to have become her enemy, and being able to focus on a delicate task made for a good distraction from her own mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about it all, but she could manage to do it in a more orderly fashion.

Around her birds sang, leaves whispered in the breeze and her old friends and Kent made only the occasional contented sigh. By the time she was finished she felt ready to speak.

“Jon... last night you asked me about resistance.”

They all turned to look at her with interest.

“It is hard for me to explain it all,” she continued slowly. “How my thoughts worked when they were influenced by Mistress Lumiara. But now that I think about it I must admit I had these... moments.”

“Of what?” Elseth asked when she didn’t immediately continue.

“Of...”

Irina clicked her tongue in frustration. Language really was an imperfect medium.

“Of not feeling a desire for freedom so much as thinking it,” she settled for.

“What?” Kent said with confusion she had been expecting.

“My mistress kept me satisfied,” Irina explained. “She was always in the back of my mind, soothing any upset and erasing any doubt. But I sometimes thought back on the person I’d once been. On the life I’d led and the attitudes I’d had. I knew on a rational level that I was being made to feel as I did and that I would have objected to my servitude, my slavery, before the collar. I had been forced into all of it against my will.”

She handed Jon the knife.

“That knowledge sometimes caused a strange tension within myself, which I cannot describe in any accurate fashion. The collar was unbreakable, or so I believed. And I would never have consented to having it broken, because Lady Lumiara would not have let me.”

She cut a strip from one of the blankets and used it to tie back her hair.

“It wasn’t despair that I went through. Not in the traditional sense. But it was something not entirely dissimilar, in those moments before my mistress washed it all away with... love. Or something that sure felt like love.”

She stood up and swung her handiwork through the air. The long club was a poor substitute for a sword and an even worse one for her kayros. But if they ran into trouble it was far better than nothing. Jon had always been, and would always be, the group’s true warrior. But he’d insisted on giving pointers.

Then she sat back down, feeling awkward.

“Well, you asked, and here is my honest answer. That is all.”

The others looked awkward in their own right and were silent for a little while. Jon then cleared his throat.

“Maybe you can clear something else up. The prince did ask us to keep our ears open for news on a young noblewoman. Her family had lost land to the Bright Lords and it seems she travelled back to Mid-Melgen in secret some time ago. Lady Minni. She was described to me as tall, blond and fierce of will.”

Ah. That memory.

“She travelled back to the old family holdings,” Irina told them. “She was trying to stealthily gather support for a re-seizure. Word of it reached the Bright Lords and she was captured while travelling by herself.”

“And where is she now?”

“She was put into service,” Irina said and pointed to her own neck.

Their surprise was almost comical.

“The Bright Lords truly do not differentiate between high and low,” she went on. “They like capable people and Lady Minni was a prime candidate. Now she serves, like any of us.”

She squeezed her eyes shut in annoyance.

“Them.”

“Turning strong foes into loyal servants,” Jon said wonderingly. “It certainly is a useful ability.”

“Perhaps if I hadn’t gotten so far inside the palace Lady Lumiara wouldn’t have taken an interest,” Irina mused. “Perhaps I would simply have been given a sentence and been made to work it off in a more traditional fashion. As for enemies, they certainly made up most of the early... recruitments. But these days the Bright Lords do get volunteers as well.”

“Volunteers?” Elseth said. “Why?”

Irina shrugged.

“For various reasons. Those who volunteer for service, and are accepted, do get to make a special request. Such as being stationed in their hometown as protectors, or for their extended family to be exempt from service or granted some special aid. I know of one man who described himself as terribly sinful. I don’t know the details but he requested to be put to work entirely for healing.”

She stared off at nothing for a little while.

“Norms change over time, I suppose.”