The sound of rustling from beyond the grassline grew closer still. Fear clutched harder at Ukeo with each second that passed, fear that the noises were coming from several pairs of feet. It seemed to be spreading now, vibrations through the ground and the brushing of dry grass from several directions. She slid from atop the dead Collosean, her knees dropping into the cold water. She was utterly spent from taking his life, sure that she would fail at even lifting the sword that lay stuck in his neck.

  It was a matter of waiting on fate now, waiting for whatever enemy that approached to burst forth and hew her where she knelt. Then, the reeds parted before her, but only in one place, and there stood Jac. Ukeo could see relief in his eyes as he looked upon her and deduced the events that had taken place shortly before his arrival.

  'Heya squid.' He said gently, as he stepped down towards her. He knelt on the other side of the sailor. 'I heard calls forhelp, I wasn't sure if they were yours, I flew as fast as I could.'

  'They belonged to him.' Pointed Ukeo. She was going to say something mocking about the boy, about his raspy high-pitched calls, but something in her mind barred the words from exit. It was the peaceful, stone-still look on his face. It felt wrong to punish him further somehow. She watched as Jac lent over and ripped the sword loose, and wiped it on the sailor's blueish-green leathers.

  'Looks like you cut the cries from his throat.' He said, with hint of both humour and disgust. Ukeo then came to a new understanding. Jac had not been granted his own coveted retribution: To still the hands that may have killed his brother. In this moment She wanted to tell him that doing so brought no clean sense of catharsis, but rather a fresh, more complicated set of emotions, but then knew these words would not help Jac in his journey.

  'We need to get him back to the village.' She said instead. 'We're just a stone's throw from the border, and we can't be sure you were the only one who heard his call, there could be patrols nearby.'

  Jac looked over his shoulder. 'Aye, but you look knackered Squid... do you need a minute?'

  'No, let go, c'mon.'

  'Ah okay, you grab the legs, I'll get the shoulders.'

  It took them a long time to make their way back. Several times on the journey they stopped and dropped to the ground when they heard the sudden scampering of a nocturnal animal, and when they once again found the exposed dirt road that led to their village they were sure to encounter some wayward individual. But fortune was with them that night, as no other soul crossed their path. When they reached the steps of Jac and Qalun's house, the others had vanished from the space underneath. In the darkness, there seemed to be no sign that any affray had even taken place there.

  The two Ruskelites climbed the steps awkwardly, the dead sailor rocking like a hammock in their arms, both of them still scanning the surroundings from their elevated position for any witnesses. When Jac opened the door they were hit with a hum of quieted activity. It seemed that the whole street had convened - some in the kitchen boiling water and fixing food, another huddle gathered before the Brothers' simple cotton couch in the left hand corner, and a third gathering in a tight circle against the wall to the right. All parties turned at the sound of the door, many rushing their hands to the handles of their weapons in anticipation of a further fight. But as Jac and Ukeo hobbled through the door with the capture, a general tone of relief echoed within the room.

  Old Scuggs and his son, who most of the Hamlet referred to colloquially as 'Scuggs Half' despite him having a good five inches on his Father, rushed over to aid them. 'You got the fiend.' Said Scuggs as he took the shoulders of limp, heavy Sailor from Jac. 'Good work. We'd feared the worst. I wanted to come after you but the others said it'd risk too much attention. Probably would've slowed you down with my bum leg anyway!'

  'Where's Qalun?' Rasped Jac, ignoring Scuggs' words. 'Is my Brother okay?' Ukeo braced herself for the answer. There seemed to have been so much blood pouring from his as she'd held his head all those hours ago, and the skin of the untouched cheek was so deathly pale that it had seemed luminous.

  'He's okay. Well... he's sleepin'.' Said Scuggs.

  'He's on the sofa.' Added Scuggs Half. Ukeo dropped the legs of the sailor, causing Scuggs to grunt a little with the weight, and marched to the huddle of neighbours gathered by the sofa. She moved two of them to the side, wordlessly, and fresh tears formed at the corner of her eyes as she saw Qalun laying on his side, blanketed by several throws. His wounded cheek was facing upwards, with several simple cotton dressings stained with red plastered over it. She knelt down and touched his arm, Praying to the Goddess Ruskel that it granted comfort to his unconscious self.

  Jac joined at her side. 'There were two still breathing when we left.' He said tonelessly to the congregation. 'What of them? Have you buried them yet?'

  'Nay. They live still.' Answered one of the neighbours. 'They're over there being guarded. We didn't wanna to commit to anything before ya returned.'

  Ukeo gave Qalun's arm another squeeze before following Jac towards the other side of the room, but on the way she spotted her Mother walking towards her from the kitchen on her walking stick, a patterned towel over her shoulder as often there was. 'She must have climbed the steps to help,' thought Ukeo, 'even with the pain'. Catrin Nasz gave her daughter an understanding smile. Her eyes were red and puffy, the mark of someone who'd shed her own tears, some for Qalun but most for the worry over her daughter. Ukeo stumbled and lost herself in her Mother's arms and felt instantly better about the awful, life-changing hours that had proceeded that moment.

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  'I knew you'd return, but I'm still so glad you're okay.'

  'Okay may not be the right word.' Answered Ukeo.

  'Give yourself some time. It's the greatest healer.'

  Ukeo heard and argument forming to the right, where the prisoners were being held. She detached from the embrace and turned. The commotion had caused a fissure in the crowd of Ruskelites, through which the remining live Colloseans could be seen. They were sat awkwardly against the wall and gagged with worn dishcloths. The woman was leaning against the young boy that Ukeo had knocked out during the scuffle. He was awake once more, now staring at the ground. Both of them had the distant countenance of those trying to reason with their mortality.

  Ukeo had seen it once before. During a particularly fruitful summer of scallop diving, her father had taken them on a trip to the City of Corfan, 'The Necklace', at the North of the Triskellion Valley. They'd happened upon a public execution, taking place at midday in the centre of a plaza, the open gallows standing there in the sunshine. Her Father had protested that Ukeo was too young for such an event, while her Mother chose to watch. She had an odd sort of morbid curiosity that way, one that juxtaposed her usual sweet disposition. Her father told her once that it wasn't that Catrin Nasz found death to be agreeable, but rather fascinating, and not something to shy from or fear. Before Ukeo's father whisked her away, she caught a glimpse of one of the condemned. There was a distance in their eyes, as though they'd retreated to the deepest fathoms of themselves. The two Colloseans were just the same way.

  'This ain't as clean or clear-cut as you think.' Said Big Osi, the barrel-chested spear fisher who lived at the farthest end of the Hamlet.

  'There is one. One! One single option here, Osi,' barked Jac, 'and you're the only person here ain't got the cords to go through with it.'

  'Hush!' Osi said, holding his palms up. 'You don't want them to hear and get desperate. They'll try for a runner.'

  'I don't care what they hear.' Retorted Jac.

  'What's going on?' inquired Ukeo.

  'Osi thinks we should let them on their merry way.' Said Jac, casting a disdainful stare at the spear fisher, who stood with his thumbs in his beltloop.

  'I didn't say that! I just don't think we should kill them in cold blood like some of the others are sayin'.'

  'What are the alternatives? Lock them in the catchbox?'

  'There's plenty of prison cells up in The Necklace that would make a good home for these here.' Osi said quickly, leaning in closer. His cherubic face was even rosier than usual. Most of the others in the room had congregated now, with some listening with their backs turned as they kept a sharp eye on the prisoners. 'And the council of fortitude will pay a pretty penny for the souls, let us not forget. And that's with souls still in their bodies, not souls we've sent to meet Ruskel in the beyond!'

  'Ahhh there we are.' Said Jac, pointing with his palms at Osi, as if presenting him before a tribunal. In a way he was. 'It's the case for fattening your own pocket that you're pleadin'.'

  'The case I'm pleadin',' said Osi, who seemed to Ukeo to be genuinely hurt by the accusation, 'is that we shouldn't be slaying an unarmed boy and his sister like they were diseased lifestock!'

  'Theeeey slew Qalun!' Roared Jac, 'Or gave it their best shot at least' Jac pointed to his wounded brother on the sofa.

  'It's wasn't them.' Ukeo interrupted. 'The one who struck Qalun is over there on the floor. And he's served his sentence. You know this.'

  The memory of the sword dropping into the Sailor's throat played once more in Ukeo's mind. The image was greyed and distorted somehow, a reflection in a dark mirror.

  'Are you seriously siding with Osi?' Asked Jac, lowering his voice out of respect for his friend.

  'I didn't say that... Not entirely. Look at him though.' Ukeo pointed at the shellshocked boy propped against the wall. The two Colloseans snapped from their own tumultuous daydreams as the crowd of Ruskelites staring at them following Ukeo's request. 'He must be all of sixteen.'

  'He's fifteen.' Said the boy's sister.

  'Bullshit!' Said Jac, loudly and bitterly. 'Sixteen is the cut-off for joining the service in all three of the Realms, that's common knowledge.'

  'Not in times of war.' Said the sailor.

  'We're not in times of war.'

  'Seems you've had your head in the sand, lad.' Said Osi.

  Jac whirled round, looking ready to strike his compatriot, despite Osi's gargantuan size. Osi held up his hands, symbolising the poor choice of words.

  Jac took a breath. 'Even if he's fifteen, he made his choice. As did she, as did that dead boy over there. They came into our lands to steal from simple fishers. They're old enough to know consequences. Ukeo? Am I wrong?'

  The sea of faces then turned her direction.

  'I- I don't know.' Ukeo felt like a rope pulled by two beasts, one of guilt and one of logic. 'We could call the Marshals but it could take days before they arrive. They're all so busy with the trade and smuggling problems. What if they escaped in that time, or word spread?'

  'Word would never leave this room.' Said Scuggs Half. 'It's not the Ruskelite way.'

  'Are you sure you wanna risk that?'

  'So you do think we should silence them?' Said Osi to Ukeo.

  'We're getting nowhere with this!' Exclaimed Jac. 'It's the Haemonines and Colloseans who are at war, or near enough abouts. And anyway, if Ruskel is involved somehow, do you not think the Officers at the North Indam Barracks are gonna notice a missing unit? Where d'you think they're gonna look? What if they send a unit of midnight agents to seek them out, and they find them cosied up in my Mother's blankets?!'

  In this moment Ukeo again understood why Jac was pushing so hard for their demise. She'd won her vengeance out there in the night-washed marshes, or at least in his eyes she had, while he desperately continued to seek an outlet for his pain. But beyond that, she also felt, as troubling as it was, that the safest step was to bury them quickly and quietly, and deal with the moral burden later.

  Scuggs sighed. 'He's got a point. These Sailors did make their bed.'

  Osi was about to speak again when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Silence descended on the room as each of the Ruskelites shared the same thought: If every one of the neighbours in the Hamlet was in this room at this moment, who could be calling?