Saul looked from the noblewoman to her slave. The woman did look ill, but there was nothing to be done for it. Their medical rations were for battle wounds, not for the fevers of the uninjured. The lady moved then and his eyes snapped back to her, alert for signs of rebellion, but her body language was wrong. She reached out and took his hand, and Saul was too surprised to pull away. "Please," she said as beseechingly as her slave ever had, "she's sick."

He looked down into her face. Her fear seemed genuine, and in such a moment Saul could almost forget she was an imperialist slave-keeper who had killed one of his men. Then his anger returned. He remembered the delicate balance he'd just managed to strike with the rest of the men in his camp. Now that Vidon was no longer sided with him Tatchi had gone quiet with his complaints, but he knew the man's humiliation had not simply gone away. For now Wexx appeared to be with Saul and Rhodos, but things could still change in the two weeks that remained before they reached Guildsport.

It showed on her face then, as her lips drew down at the corners with disgust, and her eyes narrowed. She wanted to hit him, and her hands clenched into fists with the effort to hold herself in place.

"Fever."

The men grimaced. Rhodos looked around groggily as he stood up, but by the time they reached the women's tent he was wide awake. Saul held aside the flap and let the other man enter first and then followed him inside.

The slave woman was still sitting up and Lady Malorik was beside her. Rhodos approached warily and knelt awkwardly next to the sick woman. Saul kept his feet and watched the noblewoman for any hint of escape, but she seemed totally absorbed in her concern for her slave, and eventually he watched Rhodos as he examined her. After Rhodos overcame his general discomfort he became more businessline, removing his gloves and feeling the woman's forehead and then briskly feeling the skin of her stomach under the tunic she wore. The woman made no complaint; she was aware but not able to move well without assistance and did not resist when Rhodos pried open one of her eyes. His stirring of her clothing made her shiver more, and Rhodos looked up at Saul.

"She is in a fever and must withstand it. If she becomes too hot then she may die. She should ride with no cloak until her fever breaks and then give her two cloaks." He placed a hand on the woman's head and gently bowed it, indicating she no longer had to look up. "It would be best to leave her here," said Rhodos matter-of-factly, "or she may make the noblewoman sick and us as well. This is an ill-fated journey." Rhodos' expression told Saul he did not want to, but that he was resigned, and Saul accepted his advice as sound.

"Give her some water and take those cloaks off her," Saul said to the lady brusquely and tossed the waterskin to her. She caught it easily and set it aside so she could take the cloaks from the shivering womand and then she and Rhodos laid her down on them. The lady held a cup of water to Devona's lips and when she had drunk it Rhodos turned the woman over on her stomach to keep her from choking.

Then he tugged up the back of Devona's tunic, and cursed. Mal glanced over to where he was looking and made a noise low in her throat, a noise that didn't even manage to be a curse. There were whipping scars tracing her skin as thoroughly as tribal markings covered her own, and she was still staring when he shoved the cloth at her and stalked out of the tent, the captain close on his heels.

He thinks this is my doing, she realized numbly, and wanted to call out after him but could not find the words. That she should have to defend herself to him seemed ridiculous, but the injuries Devona had endured made her feel as much disgust as he must bear for her now, and it made her tired instead of angry.

Still. It did not matter what he thought of her, or of the imperialists or slavery or anything at all. What mattered now was Devona's well being, and Malorik did not intend to let the woman die. With deft movements she wrung out the wet cloth and placed it across the scars on her back, and then ripped a section of material from the edge of her own tunic and wetted it, placing this one on Devona's forehead.

Devona did not stir during any of this, and finally, with nothing left to do but wait, Mal sat next to her and held her hand.

Cold air bit her skin and she shivered as rough, unfamiliar hands touched her, but they were unintrusive and were quickly gone. The voices were all extremely clear to her, but it was still a shock when they ripped the cloaks away. She felt like she was going to shake apart, and would have made some sound of protest if her lungs hadn't been seizing up with the chill of the air.

They moved her. One of them pulled up her tunic and saw her back, and then there was something cold and wet on her back. She was too weak to move or otherwise indicate her misery and someone put another wet cloth on her forehead and something warm in her hand. Malorik was holding her hand.

"Imaret..."

"Devona," she whispered urgently, but Devona was past hearing her. She moaned and Mal wet another cloth to place on her forehead, and gradually she quieted, but it was not a peaceful sleep.

The day passed, with its stifling heat, and Mal continued to stand guard, though she was not sure against what. She knew nothing of illness and the man who'd examined Devona before did not come again, leaving her feeling helpless and, for the first time, scared. She did not know what she would do if Devona died. It had been difficult enough coming to terms with Reno's loss, and that had only been possible because she had the other woman's company to comfort her. But without Devona... Malorik had never been alone. She did not want to know what that would be like.

No one said anything, and Saul could not come up with any good reason himself why they shouldn't depart now. Half the night was gone, but they could still put more distance between themselves and the Freyet border. Saul could still save face. Tatchi would gain some respect and Saul would lose a little, but it would solve the problem and could probably get them to Guildsport without further event.

But Saul did not want to leave the slave behind, at least not because Tatchi had nagged at him to do it. The plainsman was angry because he'd been clumsy and owed his life to the noblewoman, and though Saul could understand the man's humiliation he did not see how that humiliation could be expiated by letting the slave die. He disliked Tatchi for wanting to harm such a helpless creature as Devona was for the sake of his ego, and the more the man complained the less inclined he was to give in.

"Why are we waiting?" Tatchi asked again, more loudly, and Saul turned to glare at him but did not have time to speak before Vidon cut in.

"We are waiting because Saul says we will wait," said Vidon in an irritated tone, "and your whining is grating on my nerves."

Saul resisted the urge to look at Vidon with surprised gratitude. Rhodos chuckled and even Wexx grinned reluctantly, and Saul saw how tense they had all been for him to react to Tatchi. Now Tatchi had been put into his place without Saul having to acknowledge him at all, and with Vidon behind him Rhodos was also behind him, and with those two behind him Wexx would not stand with Tatchi.

Tatchi was not so perceptive. "Fine for you to say, Vidon, when you were bought for the price of a horse," he snarled at the younger man and then looked at Saul. "I say we leave the slave and take the imperialist whore back to Guildsport. We have already wasted too much time for one night."

Saul stood up then, and Rhodos. Wexx did too, but did not move to Tatchi's side, for Vidon already had his sword out. Saul put a hand on Vidon's shoulder to calm him and leveled his gaze at Tatchi. "Do not say that again, plainsman," he said softly. "You have no friends left at this fire to save you and the woman is busy with her slave."

Tatchi's expression darkened at Saul's insult, and he shot a look at Wexx, but Wexx did not move to help him, and Tatchi cursed loudly and stormed a good distance away from the fire and stood by himself. Vidon sheathed his sword again and sat down, his face blank. Wexx fidgeted and then sat down as well, and Saul walked slowly from the fire to where the horses stood. Rhodos followed him.

"Saul, Tatchi is right," he said in a voice too quiet for any but the leader to hear. "He is stupid and a coward, but he is right. If the woman is still sick tomorrow, we should leave her and go."

Saul appraised the man. Laro would never have been so plainly spoken, but Rhodos was not Laro and he was probably right. Laro's absence reminded him of all they'd lost on this journey already, and how little more they could spare. At last he nodded.

"Then tomorrow night we leave."

~~~

He walked into the women's tent the next morning and met the noblewoman's eyes and knew that the slave was no better. The noblewoman proved him right, closing her hand around the sick woman's and looking up at him defiantly. "We can take her with us," she said firmly. "She can ride with me and I will care for her."

Saul stepped outside. Rhodos had taken second watch and was already awake, and Saul beckoned him. Rhodos approached and allowed himself to be ushered into the tent where the women lay.

"Tell me if the slave is well enough to travel," he said in Prala, and Rhodos looked at him expressionlessly and then knelt next to the woman once more. Saul did not want to leave Devona to die, but if Rhodos said she could not ride then he would leave her.

"She has improved," said Rhodos after a moment, and Saul shifted his gaze from the noblewoman to Rhodos in surprise. The woman looked no better to him, but he knew little of medicine and nothing of how it related to women. "She cannot ride," continued Rhodos, "but she can ride with me." He brushed the slave woman's damp hair from her face. It was a brisk, businesslike motion, but Saul saw that there was no need for him to do so. Rhodos did not look up to meet his eyes, and Saul looked down at the man curiously. He did not think Rhodos desired the woman; she was sick in any case and no great beauty when she had been well. Then Rhodos did look up, and Saul read the pity in the man's gaze - not for the haughty, spoiled noblewoman, but for the slave who would die here if he did not intervene.

"Rhodos says he will take her with him since she cannot ride alone," the captain said as the man called Rhodos carried the woman out of the tent. "You should be grateful."

And she was, by the gods, she was. She was exhausted and frightened and near tears, but Devona was going with them, and she gave a long sigh as her shoulders slumped in relief.

They moved outside and to the horses, his hand still on her arm, and she let him push her up into the saddle. She was too tired to protest his mistreatment, and it did not matter, anyway; she had to chose her battles, and she had just won a very important one. Soon Devona would be better, and they would arrive in Guildsport, and somehow they would be free.

Her face was mostly covered with her cloak, but she could feel that they were in motion. She sought to push her hood back and a man's voice spoke quite near her in Brindian.

"Be still."

It was not a cruel voice, and after a few moments she placed it as belonging to the man called Rhodos. She went lax in his arms and he shifted her so that she could sit in the saddle instead of across it. She did not know how long he'd had to ride with one arm supporting her, but he sighed as he let it drop and slipped the other around her waist in a far more comfortable position. She wanted to shift uncomfortably and discovered that though she was not in any pain she was extremely weak. He pulled the edge of her cloak to tighten it around her and her head came to rest against his shoulder, and she tried to piece together what she could remember.

There had been pain; she had been quite ill. She remembered waking and seeing Malorik. The brief movement had exhausted her, but she found the strength to open her eyes. She could see only the horse in front of them, but she could see that it was Saul's horse and that Malorik was with him.

Her eyes fell closed again. The man Rhodos said nothing more and she drifted in and out of sleep until they stopped to make camp. Then he plucked her from the saddle and put her into the tent, and she fell asleep more deeply.

Devona was looking down at her, and Mal blinked in surprise. She looked... well, she looked tired, but her face had lost that feverish glow and she seemed aware of her surroundings.

Devona did just that, and having slept for a night and a day, Mal was far from tired herself. She sat beside the woman and waited, thinking of what might happen soon in Guildsport and where this trouble might take them, and as dusk approached there were footsteps outside.

Rhodos entered, and Mal smiled at him. It seemed ludicrous to be so grateful to one of the men who had begun this entire horrible affair, but he had saved Devona's life and she could not find it in her heart to hate him. Or at least, not too terribly much.

"She woke, and drank some water, and I think she will be alright," she told him, almost cheerfully. "She is still very weak, but perhaps tomorrow she will be well enough to ride herself."

There was a soft murmur of conversation from the women's tent and Rhodos looked up.

"We will turn them in with the box?" Saul nodded, and Rhodos drew a circle in the dirt with the stick he was holding and said nothing for a while. The conversation in the tent ceased and did not begin again as the women went to sleep.

"She is not a bad woman, the slave," Saul said offhandedly. Rhodos looked up at him and grinned in amusement. "You think I want her?" he asked, and Saul shrugged. Rhodos laughed softly. "She was sick, Saul. My mother was feverish as she grew older. There was no reason for the slave to die because Tatchi wished to hurt her mistress."

Saul nodded, and Rhodos shook his head. "No, I do not want the slave woman. She should go with the other one where she wants to be." His face hardened. "Though I do not know why the slave follows her. I have seen wounds and scars before, but those marks on her back..." Rhodos spit to the side as if to clear the imperialist taste from his mouth.

"The lady did not inflict those wounds," Saul said without thinking. Rhodos looked at him questioningly, and Saul himself wondered why he had said such a thing. What did it matter if Rhodos thought she did it or did not do it? Rhodos held his eyes a second long and then laughed more heartily. "So this is why you offer me the slave woman?" he asked and laughed again. "Because you want the other one?"

Saul laughed scornfully. "I am not so far from my prime that I need to take a foreign woman with swords to share my blankets," he said derisively. Rhodos chortled and nodded. "And then in the morning find yourself alone with her boots gone," he joked, and Saul laughed again, more easily.

They stopped early on the last night, less than an hour out of Guildsport, and made camp along the desert road. There was still a great deal of time before daybreak, so they were far from tired when they retreated to their tent for the night. Devona sat down, but Mal was restless, throwing her cloak to the ground and pacing back and forth within the tent. They were so close, but they could do nothing but wait, and it was the waiting that made her like a caged animal.

"We must think of something. There is always a plan we can make," she said for the hundredth time, but Devona said nothing and Mal knew she was right. "Oh, may the gods be damned," she cursed, and sat down with a sigh to wait out the night.