“What did he say?” Ba’an frowned at Lukios, even as she raised a hand to smooth away the one on his face. His jaw clenched. For a moment he seemed to be struggling with his temper.

“He—fucking mastropòs!—he wanted to buy you.”

“What?”

“He thought you were—we were—fuck. Wait. Let’s walk for a bit.”

Kyros was not big by Dolkoi’ri standards, but it was a city. She could smell the filth immediately. Animals shared the streets with humans, and thus the streets were dirty, noisy, and crowded.

It was a Dolkoi’ri city. Such things were expected.

Ba’an could see the central buildings in the distance were stonework—granite, maybe—and built well. But on the outskirts were the merchants and hawkers and the poor, all crowded together in the perimeter just inside the walls.

Lukios’ hand never left her back. “Here. The moneylenders are all up by the agora.” He guided her through the streets with more confidence than she had expected. He had told her he rarely visited Kyros; his memory was good.

The main streets were all cobbled. Buildings nearer to the agora were made of stone, and Ba’an knew how close they were getting by the dwindling number of wooden constructions. Ba’an had rarely set foot near the agora itself. When she had first started trading in Kyros the merchants there had cheated her, so now she only dealt directly with her buyers.

Even so, the architecture was impressive: smooth stones for the floor of the square, and even smoother stone columns lining the market to create a sheltered colonnade. This was what Lukios had called a stoa—it was full of men speaking to each other with very animated expressions, arms gesticulating with enthusiasm.

They were not, however, wearing togas. Perhaps things were different in Heliopolis.

There were people in every nook and cranny. The agora was full of stalls, merchants, and shoppers. There was a fountain to the north, right in the temple courtyard, and even from this distance she could see stone aqueducts arching gracefully from along the outer walls and over the temple, pouring water down into the twin basins along the front-facing columns. She knew that water flowed beneath the ground in pipes until it came bubbling up through the center of the fountain.

Even Ba’an could admit the Dolkoi’ri had genius in them. She could not fathom how they pumped water upward without stone-shapers or magic.

Her belly growled and Lukios stopped walking. “That was you, right?” He gave her an apologetic look and glanced around. “Shit. Of course you’re—here, let’s go this way. I think that’s a food stall over there. Sorry. Should have remembered you’d be hungry.”

“I am well. Do not be…distressed.” But really, Ba’an thought he was more upset over whatever Terutus had said. He still seemed angry.

They wandered over to one of the stalls lining the stoa. Ba’an could see it was meant to be temporary, with a man sitting on what looked like a small, flimsy stool beside a cart. The cart was very curious-looking, because it was more a rectangle box on wheels; the side facing the merchant was open, and she could see that it had shelves that were loaded with covered baskets that smelled…

Delicious. They smelled delicious. Her belly growled again.

“Hungry?” The man beamed at her, then faced Lukios. “We have stuffed buns here, all sorts. Meat, vegetables, or just good, hearty bread. Which would you like?” He glanced over at Ba’an again and looked her up and down. “Pardon my say so, but she definitely needs more than one! How about a basket? You’ll get three buns and a loaf of bread. I’ll give you a discount! Three obols and four coppers. Usually it’s one obol each and two for a meat bun, so you’re getting a deal.”

Ba’an opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. The man was very rude, speaking to Lukios as if Ba’an was not there, but it was also true that he was less likely to cheat Lukios than he was to cheat Ba’an. It was obvious.

Ba’an kept the frown off her face and listened.

Lukios looked amused, nodding toward the basket the man had indicated. “You saying those are all meat buns in there?”

“Uh…”

Well, clearly, he had not thought Lukios would question him. “Well, some of them are. Let’s see—” He began lifting the linens and checking. “I can’t give you three meat buns at that price, but I can give you one meat bun and the rest with vegetables. It’s still a good price! You can’t beat it.”

Lukios only smiled, very charmingly. “How about two meat buns and I’ll give you four obols for the basket?”

“That’s…” The merchant hesitated, glancing around. “That’s not a very good deal for me.”

“Well, these were made in the morning, right? It’s past noon now. They’re old. If we went to one of the—”

“No, no, these are fresh! The morning batch went with the lunch crowd. My son just brought these from the oven. It hasn’t been two hours.”

“Oh yeah? That’s nice to know. Your boy’s a hard-worker, huh?”

The merchant beamed. “He is! He’ll take over this stall once he’s old enough, but for now he’s at the taverna with his ma.”

“Just one boy?”

“No, no, two girls besides, but they work in the kitchen. My boy does the deliveries—he’s fast on his feet, but careful!” The merchant lifted one of the linens. The buns looked very tasty—they were plump, and darker and shiny on top. Ba’an did not know how his wife had made them look so appetizing, but she had.

She tried her best to look unimpressed. It would not help Lukios bargain this man down if she looked too hungry.

“See? Not a single squished bun. He’s great with deliveries. You won’t find tastier buns in Kyros, and not for these prices, either! My taverna’s the best for delivery.”

“Delivery too, huh? Oh wait, are you the owner of Ostos’?”

And now the merchant looked very pleased. “That’s me! I’m Ostos, the owner of Ostos’! You’ve heard of me?”

“Yup. My friends and I go there every time we’re in Kyros. Guess you don’t have the skewers out today?”

“Oh, no, not here. They’re not very good once they’re too long off the grill.”

“Right, right. That’s too bad. That marinade you use is something else.”

The merchant was looking happier and happier. “I see you’re a man of taste. Well, it’s rare to see such a discerning fellow, and…” he looked at them both, taking in their dusty and ragged attire, “…it looks like you’ve both been doing some travelling. Here, I’ll give you the basket with two meat buns for four obols, but you bring your lady around for a proper dinner.” He grinned widely. “The menu’s better inside the shop.”

They continued chatting as the money exchanged hands. Ostos took out some scraps of fabric from the bottom shelf of his cart and wrapped all the buns in them, placing the empty basket and linens aside. His cart was very organized.

“Say,” Ostos said, handing Lukios the buns, “anyone ever tell you that you look an awful lot like the Lion?”

Lukios only grinned. “Sure have! More than once. Guess it must be true.”

Ostos nodded. “I think so. It’s the eyes and hair. You sure you’re not related?”

“As far as I know.”

“Right, right. Ah well. That’s lucky, then. Just awful what happened. Killed by bandits?” He shook his head. “I would’ve never guessed he’d go that way. Not a man like him. Anyway, here’re your buns! Enjoy, and don’t forget to visit!”

----------------------------------------

Ba’an took another bite of the meat bun. It tasted like it smelled, but better.

They had found a nice, shady spot on a bench inside the stoa. Lukios seemed to have calmed down now, and he was eating his bread with an expression of satisfaction.

“How’s that one?”

“It is very good, Lukios. Very, very delicious.” They were not hot, but even so the flavour was savory and salty, spiced to perfection. She looked down at her greasy fingers. Would anyone notice if she…licked them?

Well, Lukios would notice. He would not care, but licking one’s fingers was very undignified. She wiped her fingers on the napkin with no small amount of regret.

“Good. You like the vegetable ones better or the meat ones better?”

“They are both very delicious, but…the meat.”

He nodded and handed her the second meat bun.

“No, Lukios. That one is yours.”

“I eat these all the time, sweetheart. Here.”

Hm. Ba’an did not know how a heart could be sweet—they were not, being very tough and chewy organs—but it sounded like an endearment. Well, that was acceptable then, and he was giving her his meat bun. Lukios was only being his strange outlander self, so there was no point in questioning it.

Ba’an sighed in contentment as she put the last meat bun in her mouth.

Oh it was very good.

They made short work of the impromptu meal, and wiped their mouths and hands on the cloth they’d been wrapped in. Lukios folded it neatly and tucked it away in his pouch. He stood and offered her his hand, which she took.

“What did Terutus say, Lukios? You were very angry.”

His expression, which had been relaxed a moment ago, immediately darkened.

“Oh. Right. Well, that fucker thought you were my…fuck, if I say hetaera, would that make any sense to you?”

“No.”

“Okay, he thought you were a prostitute that I had bought for the journey. He wanted to pay off your fee and buy you.”

“What? Why would he think this?” Lukios pushed his hair out of his face with a disgusted noise.

“I’m sorry, Ba’an. I should have thought it through. It’s—well. You’re a woman and I’m a man. We’re sharing a tent, but we’re not married and we’re not engaged. So the natural conclusion was…”

They paused against a column to let a group of enthusiastic men pass. They were arguing about someone named Galen, who was a physician—clearly, he was very famous. They continued toward the moneylender once the men passed.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“I do not think ‘prostitute’ is the natural conclusion. It is the Dolkoi’ri conclusion. In the tribe Thu’rin was my man, but I was not his woman. Because I was a witch.” But they had still shared a bed every night, the way they would have if they had been wed. Thu’rin had always come home to her—not to his parents' vuti, or the vir-vuti, but to her.

Lukios blinked, and she could see him trying to understand what that meant. “Wait, does that mean you had more than one man?”

“If I wished. But I did not.” Most who sought her had wished to bend her ear and use her influence. She had rejected them…strongly. Thu’rin himself had been a rare wonder of a man. Ba’an did not think she would see his like soon, or ever again.

She swallowed her sorrow down. She should not think of him now, when she was with Lukios.

It was rude.

Lukios was laughing at her pert response. “Oh, gods. I should have known. Ha.” He gave her a look. “You’re not a witch anymore.”

“I am not.”

“So the rules are different now.”

“Rules?”

He glanced around, pulling away from the stoa and down a dark, narrow side street until they reached the inner wall that ran around the acropolis. He gently pushed her up against it and kissed her. “Yes. Rules. No other men.” He kissed her again, hungrily. “I’ll go crazy.”

Ba’an flushed. She pushed him away and looked around. It was dark and the narrow back streets were emptier than the open-air market, but there were still some people wandering through. If anyone in a building looked outside, they would be able to see them.

She tugged her hood down lower. “Lukios. We are in public. Stop.”

“Right. As soon as you agree. No other men.” He paused thoughtfully then added, “Or women.”

She gave him a look of exasperation. “Where would I find another man or a woman? Do they grow in the sand?” She clicked her tongue at him. “Where are you getting these stupid ideas?”

“Ba’an, a man we met three days ago just tried to buy you. Who knows, maybe you’ll rescue some other lucky man and he’ll take a fancy to you too. Or maybe you’ll find someone here. Or…”

“Lukios.” His expression had gone serious somewhere in the last two sentences. “I do not have another man. Once we are finished here I will return to my not-vuti. In the desert.” She scowled up at him. “Men cannot be grown from sand.”

He snickered. “Well, maybe you could try planting one in your garden and—”

She made a noise of exasperation. “This is very silly. No, Lukios, I will not take another man into my nur-vuti from one of your cities. They are often very rude, and I do not think I will meet another as mad as you for many years. And even so, it is not my habit to bed outland—"

She cut off abruptly as Lukios frowned. He was back to looking serious again, but now he also looked puzzled.

“Wait. Why does that sound like…Ba’an, I told you. Just two months. You—you agreed, right?”

She looked at him, frowning. “Yes. Two months. You will visit.” But then he would go again. Perhaps they would meet again after that, or perhaps they would not.

Or perhaps he would not come at all.

This was the most likely outcome.

“I—Ba’an. I thought you…agreed. You’re coming with me, aren’t you? Once I get everything sorted. You agreed.”

What?

“I did not.”

“Ba’an. We talked about this. I’ll go back for you in two months. If things aren’t settled, I’ll put in some shelves and a new bed for you, but otherwise you’ll come with me.” He said it very assertively, as though it were something that really had been decided—but it had not.

Ba’an had not agreed. Lukios had only said that he would return in two months, and she had agreed to that; Ba’an had already invited him to return to her not-vuti whenever he wished. He had invited her to return to Synoros with him the night they had had first kissed, but Ba’an had refused.

Had he assumed she had changed her mind because they shared a bed?

She frowned. Ba’an had thought her refusal had been very clear, but Lukios had not understood her. “Lukios. You are on your way home now, far away. You will have your loved ones back soon, and I will not hold you to your promise to return. I will not go to Synoros with you, and I do not expect you to forever visit me. You must live your life, and live it well.”

And Ba’an would never lower herself to be his concubine. Ba’an was no longer a witch or even K’Avaari, but to give up her dignity? No. Her dignity was all she had. She would not behave like a destitute outlander, even if she died.

Death was a small matter. Ba’an did not fear it. But a life of watching Lukios take a wife and bed her, smiling all the while like the grandest idiot in the world?

No. Never.

Abomination or not, Ba’an would never humiliate herself in such a way.

He was watching her face like a hawk, eyes probing. Ba’an suddenly felt flayed open, feeling more naked than she had in the days they had spent coupling on the floor. His own expression was unreadable, and Ba’an felt unnerved. She could not guess his thoughts at all, though surely he was guessing hers.

“Ba’an,” he said, finally, “I think you’ve misunderstood something. Or I’ve misunderstood something. Or…something’s gone seriously wrong here.” He put his hands on her cheeks, cupping them gently and staring down into her eyes. “Ba’an. Just answer me one thing. You weren’t lying when you said you weren’t playing, were you?”

She blinked in surprise and she felt her brow furrow. But they were already bedding each other. What game could she be playing?

If anything, it was Lukios who was playing. He had her now, and sooner or later he would tire of her and wed a Dolkoi’ri woman—if he was not already married. Perhaps he had lost his ring, or did not deign to wear it. Perhaps he did not have a wife, but had a concubine already.

He let out a slow breath. “Okay. Good. That’s good.”

“I have not said, anything, Lukios.”

“Okay. Are you playing with me?” He did not sound uncertain now at all. Was she truly so easy to read?

But there was nothing for it but the truth. “I am not—as I said.”

He nodded. “I believe you. But you don’t believe me—do you?”

“I—I believe you mean what you say.” For now.

He closed his eyes briefly and pushed his hair off his forehead. It was furrowed, and he was frowning in earnest now. “I believe what I say? I don’t even—What does that even mean? What’s there to—?” He sighed gustily. “Never mind for now. We need to talk about this, but,” he glanced around them pointedly, “not here.”

He pointed down the narrow alley toward the main street to a large building made of stone. For a culture without stone-shapers, they were shockingly adept at shaping rock.

Undoubtedly, it had been built by the hands and lives of many slaves.

“We’ll talk about this real soon, but for now we should go to the moneylender’s. I’ll need to send a message to the barracks too. Someone there can vouch my identity. Bet Nikias is still here, or maybe Gaios. His wife's from hereabouts.” He looked at her as though he was going to say something else, but he seemed to think better of it.

Ba’an could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he was upset.

“Lukios.” She put her hand on his back. He didn’t shake her off, which was a good sign. “I…” But what could she say? Ba’an realized now that they had not discussed this, and Ba’an had not asked if he had a wife already at all. She had only assumed he would behave like an outlander, rather than like Lukios.

But did she know Lukios enough to say he would not?

She sighed, softly. “I did not wish to upset you.”

“I know.” He exhaled slowly and held her chin gently between his fingers and thumb. “We’ll discuss this later. Let’s get some cash so you can get your things.” He offered her his hand and she took it; he laced his fingers with hers as they walked through the crowded streets.

Eventually, she realized he was shaking his head and laughing silently to himself again.

“What is so funny?”

He grinned at her, his good humour returning. “I’ll bet you one whole drachma that you’re complicating again.”

“I do not have a drachma.”

“That’s okay. You can give me a kiss instead.” He dimpled as he smiled at her and she felt herself giving in.

“This is very silly, Lukios.”

“But you like it. See?” He touched a finger to the corner of her mouth. “You’re smiling now. Much better.”

The moneylending office was full of well-dressed people. They sat, spoke, and strutted in ways that implied they were important and Ba’an noted they forced people to wait as they finished speaking about the weather. They liked putting people in their place, even though their words were polite.

Ba’an found herself thrown off-balance. She stood quietly beside Lukios with her hood up, even inside, as he spoke with one of the men who worked there. He had not been impressed by Lukios’ ragged appearance—the worn clothes and raggedy makeshift cloak stood out in the opulent hall—and did his best to ignore him.

Unfortunately for him, Lukios was very persistent. “Well, you can send a runner then,” he was saying. “He’s probably at the barracks around this time, so you can send it there.” He was scribbling a note as he spoke. The man had gotten more polite after seeing Lukios’ ring but had insisted on someone reputable vouching for his identity.

The suspicious looks the man threw toward Lukios and the sword obviously sheathed beneath his cloak made it clear: the man thought Lukios had killed the owner and robbed him, though he was not stupid enough to suggest it out loud.

“We will send a runner. We cannot say if or when there will be a response.”

“That’s fine. We can wait.”

Lukios turned back to Ba’an. “Well, we've got some time to kill. Want to go down the street and look at things while we do? The stores by the agora are cleaner and the goods are better. We can try the open-air market, too, if you want.”

Ba’an shook her head. “We can sell the herbs while we wait.” His mouth twitched into a half-grin.

“I should've known you'd say that. True, we can get started on that, too.”

Ba’an knew her way around, and her regular customers recognized her. She sold suk directly to brothels, but she sold everything, including suk, to midwives and hedge-healers. By the time the sunlight had mellowed, darkening toward evening, they were already at their last stop for herbs. After this they would walk to the edges of the city to sell the skins.

Ba’an tugged Lukios to the apartment block, walking through the narrow alley with the ease of familiarity. Lukios looked perfectly relaxed, but she could see his eyes flick to the dark nooks and crannies, alert for danger. When their gazes met, he did not look pleased, though Ba’an could not fathom why.

Ba’an walked to the first door to her right, which was painted a very bright, cheerful blue, and knocked. There was a pause, then a woman called out, “One moment!” Then Ba'an heard footsteps rapidly descending from the upper level and across the floor. The door swung open.

“Ba’an! And who is this? I would have remembered a handsome face like yours.”

Merida was not Dolkoi’ri, but was from somewhere that was just as hot, if not hotter. Her skin was darker than even Ba’an’s, and her black, curling hair was wrapped up in a gently green scarf with yellow edges. She was a midwife who often looked after the women at the brothels in the city.

Merida was very beautiful. Her skin was clean and clear, an expanse of smooth, unblemished darkness. Her cheekbones were high and her eyes big. Her lips were very full, though she had a delicate chin.

Earrings always dangled from her earlobes, and today was no exception. They were gold with green gemstones, matching the colours of her scarf and dress. The dress was in the Dolkoi’ri style, though the pattern was not. It was the same fabric that made her scarf, and Ba’an felt cool simply looking at it. It was perfect for getting through a hot day.

“I am Lukios.” He tilted his head in polite greeting, smiling pleasantly.

“Well met, Lukios. I am Merida.” She turned to Ba’an and gave her a look which clearly said, Where have you been hiding him?

Ba’an ignored her. Honestly, why was she so interested? Ba’an never asked about her love life. It was rude.

Merida often made rounds to the brothels in the evenings before they opened and in the mornings after they closed. In the day, she had other patients. She practiced out of her home, having converted the front room into a sort of clinic with small cots, her kitchen serving as a space for making ointments and salves.

“I'm not due for rounds for another hour or so,” she declared. “You must stay for tea. You look hungry.” She eyed Ba’an shrewdly, and Ba’an knew she’d been caught. She was hungry—the buns had only lasted so long. Of course, she always was, so it wasn’t a hard thing to guess.

“We are busy.”

Lukios gave her a fond, if exasperated, look. “I can sell the hides and check back at the moneylender’s. You stay and catch up with your friend, Ba’an. I’ll come by later.”

They were not friends. They only did business together.

“Oh, you won’t stay as well? I have enough for you both. You must be hungry, too.”

Lukios smiled one of his charming smiles and turned it on her. Merida looked slightly flustered. “Thank you, you’re very kind. But I can see the two of you are good friends, and I'd just be in the way.”

Ba’an gave him side-eye. They were not friends. Why did he think that?

But he was leaving now. He was abandoning her, dooming her to an hour of three hundred gossip questions. Was this revenge?

The moment he was gone, Merida ushered her into the one clear corner that was used as the dining space. “Ba’an. By all the silk in Mambi, where on earth did you find that man?” She fanned herself. “You lucky girl.” Her smile was wide as she started to set out dishes. “It’s about time. I always worried about you, going back and forth by yourself. It’s dangerous enough for a man, let alone a woman.”

Ba’an was much more dangerous than anything else on the road, but of course, Merida could not possibly know that.

“It is not like that.”

“Nonsense. It is like that. That man is wild for you. You should see how he looks at you. Does he have money? Property?”

“I…yes.”

“Good, good. Make him marry you then. You’ll have a much easier life with a wealthy man.”

Ba’an frowned. “I do not think we will marry.”

Merida made an exasperated sound as she put out bread and olive oil mixed with a kind of flavoured vinegar. Merida’s bread was always very good. “If he does not want to marry, make him want to.” The older woman gave Ba'an an uncharacteristically serious look.

“Look, Ba’an. I know you do not talk about your life, and that is fine. But you always travel alone. I have never met another Red Sander travelling alone, man or woman. And you buy things here that your tribe should give you.”

She held up her hand to forestall any protest. “I will not ask. But Ba’an, it is clear your life is hard. A wealthy man who loves you will make your life easier. Do you understand?”

Ba’an stared at her. She had not known it was so obvious that she had no tribe. Ba’an had underestimated Merida—she was much cannier than Ba'an had thought she was. The ex-witch had been neatly fooled by how widely the older woman always smiled, and how she only seemed to gossip. Ba'an now realized that there was a very good reason why Merida knew all the gossip: she was perceptive, and very good with people.

The woman gave her a knowing smile. "Did you know," she said, gracefully smoothing over Ba'an's obvious shock, "I have already been married twice? The first time, I married for love. He was poor and our life was hard. It was wonderful and terrible, and he died young. The second time I married for wealth.” Her expression darkened. “It was unwise. He did not treasure me. But Ba’an, to have love and wealth is a blessing.” She put a teapot down on the table with a click.

“Now,” she continued, “you must tell me how you met him.”