Two flickering lanterns illuminated the stables. One stood on the ground at Nessalir's feet, while the other hung from Magus Urapius' hand. It was an hour yet until dawn.

  "I apologize for delaying you," the Magus told the barbarian woman. "We had not imagined you would wish to leave so quickly."

  Nessalir shrugged. She'd been halfway through saddling her large and mean-looking black horse when the courier had led the scholars into the stables. Now she stood at ease, though Iarius noticed that her hand rested on the sword which hung from her side. Her golden eyes flickered to him for a moment, and he was stunned at how they seemed to shimmer in the shadows and lanternlight, and then she refocused her attention on the Magus.

  "I was hired for a job. I prefer to do the tasks I've been hired for, and in a timely manner."

  "An admirable quality," Magus Urapius said, nodding. "But we would make a request of you, in regards to that work. I and my young associate here are scholars in the service of Remura, tasked with chronicling the events which occur out here on the frontier. Thus, Remura requests that you allow Iarius here to accompany you on your sojourn, so he may record your battle with these bandits."

  The barbarian frowned, and the red tail behind her moved back and forth. Iarius tried not to stare at it. Her tail possessed an almost snake-like quality, uncanny yet graceful.

  "Can you defend yourself?" Nessalir asked, and it took Iarius an embarrassing moment to realize that she was speaking to him.

  "Not well, I'm afraid," he answered truthfully. "But I have accompanied a number of our legionnaires out on their expeditions. I have… well, I have become proficient in avoiding death."

  A wry smile spread across Nessalir's lips. "So are all who still yet live," she observed. She turned back to her horse, who snorted and shot what Iarius swore was a glare of disgust at the two Remurans. "If you wish to accompany me, I will not stop you. But know that I can make no guarantees of your safety."

  "I have spoken to the Prefect," said the Magus. "Be aware that, should Iarius fail to return to us alive and well, you will receive only half your commission."

  Nessalir chuckled as she strapped the saddle to her steed. "A Blood Price, of course," she said. "I see no reason to reject these terms."

  "Very well," Magus Urapius said. "Please wait here while I speak with the stablemaster about getting you a horse, Iarius."

  He walked away, taking his lantern and its glow with him, leaving Iarius standing with the virem draconem in the deepening shadows.

  "You are certain you wish to accompany me?" asked Nessalir. Her horse seemed now ready to depart, and she had returned her attention to Iarius.

  "I have a duty to the Empire," said Iarius.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Duty, naturally," said Nessalir. "You still serve masters, though you are a free man."

  "It is the way of the world. We all must serve masters, I suppose."

  "Not I," Nessalir told him. "Not anymore."

  There was, Iarius thought, a note of sorrow in her voice as she spoke. And yet he believed he also detected a tenor of satisfaction, mixed with her grief.

  "Do you mourn them?" he asked before he could stop himself. "The masters you once served?"

  "King Brom? No." Nessalir spat on the ground, then sighed. "But Lorveg? Yes, I mourn my homeland."

  The name was familiar to Iarius, though he could not quite place it. He felt a frown form upon his countenance as he rifled through his knowledge and memories, trying to recall what he knew of it.

  Lorveg… He was certain he had heard the name before. Doubtless it was some lost barbarian kingdom. The domains of the Northern Lands were ever-shifting, and it was rare that their barbarian dynasties lasted for more than three generations. Lorveg had likely fallen to war with some other nation, and Nessalir had refused to swear allegiance to the new crown, thus becoming a wanderer bereft of her homeland.

  Iarius did not suppose he could fault her for that. He himself could not imagine ever submitting to barbarian rule.

  He mulled it over, and for a moment there was only silence. They stood quietly in the shadows, surrounded by the scents of hay and horses and manure.

  "I was trained as a warrior since I was a girl, Iarius," Nessalir told him, breaking the silence and climbing astride her horse. "I will protect you as well as I am able, but I will be one warrior against many foes. Do not hesitate to flee, should you feel the need."

  Iarius opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss of words. "You would have me run? As a coward?"

  "Better a coward than a dead man," said Nessalir, and again there was something mournful in her voice.

  He liked to imagine, as did all men of Remura, that should the need arise he would draw steel and face death head-on, fighting until his very last breath. But a deeper part of him wondered if he truly possessed such courage. He wondered now also at Nessalir's words, and the barbarian woman's history, and what events might have transpired to mold her into the person before him.

  Iarius mulled over these tumultuous thoughts, and he sought to put them into words, but before he could, Magus Urapius returned.

  "I see you are ready, Lady Nessalir," he said. "Just give us but a moment, please. The stablemaster has assured me that he has the perfect horse for young Iarius."

  The stablemaster in question entered behind the Magus, accompanied by one of his hands. The two men made their way to a different stall, and Iarius heard them working to saddle and prepare whatever horse resided there for departure.

  "Do you know the area well?" Nessalir asked Iarius.

  "I am familiar with the roads," said Iarius. "Though beyond that…" He trailed off, and he felt heat in his cheeks. It was an absurd ignorance to be embarrassed by—who would expect a scholar from Remura to know the geography of this backwater? And yet the shame came to him regardless.

  "No matter," said Nessalir. "I should like to see the site of this most recent attack first. With luck, these bandits will have left a trail."

  "And without luck?" asked Magus Urapius.

  The virem draconem woman smiled at him, and perhaps it was a trick of the shadows, but Iarius was struck by how sharp her teeth appeared. "They are barbarians like myself, are they not?" she asked. "I will simply decide where I would go in their place, and we will go there."

  The Magus raised an eyebrow at this, and then chuckled. "Well then, may the stars guide you."

  The stablemaster emerged, leading a young brown gelding. The horse seemed almost half the size of Nessalir's steed, and Iarius felt his cheeks burn once more.