They rode at a relentless pace through the wilderness, cutting Okedam off diagonally to return to the path they’d followed on their journey there. The Mantis did not address or recognize them in any way and continued to behave as though Leroh and Teela were not with her at all. Leroh wished it were so. He longed to steer Clover away, to make his own way back home separately from the monstrous woman, but his survival instincts were strong. He knew the dangers of his kingdom, the likeliness of attack for two lone travelers with no God protection. And so he followed the Mantis, merciless as her racing was, through the plains and woodlands, and later up the muddy road that led to Pirn.

  During it all, it continued to Rain. The droplets that hit his face and made their way into his eyes were not thick and heavy, but light and persistent. It misted like that all day until Leroh was completely soaked through to the bone, and more still after that.

  His bruising continued to cause him pain to the point where it became an almost irrelevant sensation. When his body realized no amount of discomfort would help him to heal faster and his brain accepted the fact that no proper rest would come for days, his soreness became more tolerable and took an almost secondary place in his mind.

  That left his consciousness wide open for worse thoughts, however. The dead boy’s face was like a hallucination that refused to disappear. Leroh would see him, eyes not fully closed and mouth half open as if to say a final word, anywhere he looked.

  He did not want to remember that face, or anything else about that morning. Leroh wanted to forget the whole day, banish it from his memory forever. And yet, every time he tried to force himself to think about something else, that lad and his father would invade his brain, causing a wretched feeling of nausea to surge up his throat and his breath to start coming in quick pants.

  He’d be able to forget eventually, Leroh told himself. Time would cure him, as surely as it would erase the darkening patch of skin on his back and shoulder. Time would take it all away, if he could just wait, and endure, and avoid worsening his symptoms by giving in to the urge to recall.

  That night, Leroh did not sleep.

  The Mantis had abruptly stopped and pulled out her tent in the middle of nowhere by the side of the path. She’d pitched the small shelter for them and brusquely tossed to Teela and Leroh the remaining food from the day before, keeping none for herself. Not a word was said by anyone.

  They’d taken care of their most immediate needs and quickly found their sleeping spots as dusk fell almost aggressively upon them. But Leroh was wet, and sore, and still hungry by the time the light went out completely. The Mantis had not built a fire, and the night’s precious Moonlight was blocked by a blanket of cruel Rainclouds, so the darkness was more absolute than it had ever been in Leroh’s eighteen years of life.

  Penned inside that tent of suffocating canvas in intimidating, dense blackness, Leroh could not see anything at all with his eyes wide open, except for that dead lad’s face.

  He was exhausted in every way imaginable, and yet his heart didn’t stop racing all night. Panic and a sense of entrapment engulfed him, and it was all he could do to stop himself from screaming and wailing like a small child.

  Pride more than anything else kept him from giving in to emotion throughout that endless time of deep regret and shame in the frightening dark.

  At the very first sign of dawn, Leroh dragged his body out of the tent. He’d been looking for some privacy in which to process his hysteria, but he did not find it. The Mantis was sitting curled into a tight ball with her knees raised and her arms hugging her legs to her chest. She did not look at him when he emerged beside her from the tent’s flap, but kept her eyes fixed on the small carriage making its way toward them, headed for Okedam, on the well-traveled dirt road.

  There were two men sitting on the front and probably more ensconced in the comfort of the main body of the cart, which was painted a gleaming golden yellow. Two fine horses with braided manes pulled the contraption at impressive speed and, before long, they were almost at their little improvised campsite. To Leroh’s utter horror, they slowed to a gradual stop upon reaching them.

  “What have we got here?” one of the men sitting at the cart seat in the front called out. His eyes were yellow and unnaturally bright, clearly visible even from where Leroh crouched a good distance away, and even in the feeble light of early dawn. “And who’s this, now?” The man smiled wide. His eyes had moved to the tent, and Leroh knew without having to check that his sister had not been able to contain herself. Sure enough, when he glanced sideways in that direction, there she was, peeking out of the slit at the front of their shelter curiously.

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  The two men Leroh could see both had those unnerving yellow eyes, glowing as vividly as the crown of a flame. He’d never met any Sun servants before, and he’d counted himself lucky for it. Seeing them now, they had the ability to spur a sense of fear in him that he’d not experienced from any other servant he’d laid eyes on. There was an air of power and authority to them, of confidence in their own superiority, that made him want to lower his head in their presence to avoid any accidental provocation.

  The Sun gave all his servants those characteristic irises, which could produce light to various degrees depending on the innate level of power of each individual. Most could only illuminate the span of a small room or even less, but those with more strength were capable of blinding and even burning a victim with their eyes alone, not to mention the force of their palms. A powerful Sun servant could summon immense heat to the skin of their hands and ignite a fire as effortlessly as a regular person could make a fist.

  Leroh knew, objectively, that the two fellows before him and any potential passengers in the cart were no match for the Mantis. He’d seen her kill. He knew her willingness to destroy any who came in her way. And yet he felt afraid, and he could recognize that it was due to an uncertainty in her response to a potential confrontation rather than her ability to protect him and his sister from it. The question was not whether she could keep them alive in the face of hostility, but whether she would.

  As it was going, the answer was not in his favor. The Mantis continued to refuse to speak or to move, and only kept staring up at the men from where she sat atop her spread cloak. Her eyes were threatening, with pupils spread wide over her irises to nearly eliminate the orange of her gaze entirely. She looked a bit demented.

  That was a scarier truth than the danger of the Sun in front of them.

  As fast as they had ever been, the ten black tendrils of her fingers materialized outside of her body and performed a subtle movement like slithering snakes in the damp, hot air. It was as if the Mantis only intended to display her ability, or her status as a God servant to the strangers. Leroh wondered if that could be enough to drive them away.

  “What in the Sun’s good name is that?” one of them asked and narrowed his beaming eyes at her performance with confusion. “Ah! I know that trait. You’re the Mantis! That’s what those look like? I thought they’d be…thicker.”

  “I heard of you. You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you?” the other man observed, and his companion gave a caw of laughter.

  The first man spoke again with amusement. “The woman who’s got unclaimed men all over Yriaa pissing themselves with fear, in the flesh. Just a little mouse of a bitch, aren’t ya? Good for you!”

  “Leave her, Onmo. Look how she’s looking at you. She’s wanting trouble, that one. We don’t.” That last part, the second Sunman said to the Mantis. He was still smirking but there was more seriousness to his tone, as if to assert that they meant no more harm than their insults could do.

  “You’re right. Don’t want to bring upon us the wrath of the mighty Mantis. She could, what, strangle us with a slimy string! Ha! Spert’s not going to believe it. The Mantis, that!” He gestured at her with a hand and cackled again.

  “Don’t start something beyond our rank to decide.” His companion rebuked him with a nudge of an elbow. “She’s God sworn, and we’ve a message to deliver. Let’s go.”

  “Who are you sworn to, girl? We’ve always wanted to know. You’re all full of mysteries and no words for us at all, huh? Don’t be so shy. I’m just curious.”

  Before the Sun servant had even finished speaking, his fellow gave a crack to the horses’ reins and started them back into a trot. They moved along, with only the sound of the one man’s laughter and the carriage’s noise lingering behind them for a time as they drove away.

  When they were well away in the distance, the Mantis stood up and began to pack up her belongings to depart. They were all out of food, so they had nothing to break their fast with in that horrid, humid morning. Leroh’s stomach twisted with hunger. The best they could do was to drink the remaining water from their skins. Then, they were left with nothing more to consume at all.

  The Mantis mounted her horse and started at a fast trot up the dirt road they’d been traveling, headed for Pirn. She seemed in a hurry to bring them home, almost as desperate to be rid of them as they were of her. But her behavior clashed too harshly with her earlier considerations of their welfare. She’d not hunted or tried to acquire water for them, as she’d initially said she would. Her ‘providing for them’, it seemed, was conditional, and she was choosing not to honor that promise at the moment.

  If Leroh’s sense of direction in the unfamiliar territory was accurate, however, he knew they’d be arriving soon at that charming little traditionalist village they’d passed through on their way to Okedam. If the Mantis continued to neglect them then, he and his sister would use the coin Teela had brought and purchase supplies to last them through the remainder of their journey.

  It would all be fine, Leroh assured himself. They’d trail after the Mantis, if only to keep her nearby for protection from other God servants, and reach Pirn within a day or so more of travel.

  “Let’s go.” He absentmindedly urged his sister, with his foot on Clover’s stirrup, ready to depart. But Teela wasn’t at his side, like he’d thought. She was over a dozen paces away, kneeling on the soft, muddy ground and facing away from him. Her dress had not been clean before, but surely getting it significantly dirtier now would do her no good. “What are you doing? You’re filthy enough as it is, Teela. You’re getting mud on your skirts! Come on.”

  “One moment. I’m burying Homely.”