Page 8 of Guard

Myrria looked up, her eyes soft. “You must have wandered away from the burning building and then collapsed. When I found you, you were barely conscious.”

“How far is the site of the burned building from here?” Rixx asked.

“Not far. Only down a few alleys, which is probably how you walked away without being seen.” Myrria shuddered. “It’s a miracle you weren’t taken by the scouts looking for fighters for the rings or by a slave trader.”

Rixx knew little about the Den of Thieves, since he had only spent a little while in the main market before being snatched by Zevrians. The rest of his time in the outlaw city had been split between his captivity in the Zevrian house and recuperating in Myrria’s home. He hadn’t seen any of the slave trading arenas, fighting rings, or pleasure houses that filled the city. He could only take Myrria’s word that the place was treacherous. Herword and the fact that he’d been abducted within minutes of his arrival.

“Why did they take you in the first place?” Myrria asked. “Abducted creatures usually end up in the rings or on the auction block. Why hold you?”

Rixx shook his head. “I do not know for sure, but one of our Dothvek brothers had been on Kurril before and had not left on good terms, especially with the Zevrians. He did not leave the ship this time for that reason, but maybe the Zevrians do not know how to tell Dothveks apart, or they did not care which Dothvek they used to get revenge.”

Rixx had a feeling that if the Zevrians ever found him again, they would not bother to hold him captive. They would simply kill him, especially since he’d been the cause of so many more of their soldiers dying. He took another bite of stew to distract himself from the knot growing in his stomach.

Zala had finished her bowl, and she scraped her spoon around the insides. “I’ve never known anyone who was wanted before.”

Myrria stiffened. “There is nothing exciting about the Zevrians hunting Rixx, and you can tell no one, no matter how thrilling you think it is, that we are harboring a fugitive.”

Zala reared back, looking offended. “I know how to keep a secret. I’m not a little kid, you know.”

To Rixx, she looked exactly like a little kid, but her expression was so stormy, he would never have dared say that out loud.

Myrria’s shoulders relaxed. “I know you do, it’s just…Rixx is not the only one in danger.”

Zala shifted on her stool. “You know I won’t tell. Besides, who would I tell?” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “You don’t let me have any friends.”

Myrria blew out a breath. “There are no children in Kurril who aren’t pickpockets or runners for the slave traders or members of a gang. This is not a place you make friends.”

Zala nodded, as if she’d heard all this before, but Rixx was struck by how sad the child’s life was. He had understood that life was hard for Myrria as a single mother, but now it hit him how lonely it was for Zala.

“Would you like me to tell you about growing up on a planet made almost entirely of sand?” He asked Zala in a low, conspiratorial voice.

She bobbed her head up and down as he stood and took his bowl with him toward the washbasin. “I’ve never seen sand.”

“On my home world, there is so much sand that it looks like an endless, gold sea,” Rixx told her as he turned on the faucet and began rinsing the bowl.

Zala joined him at the sink, pulling over a small step stool and standing on it with her own dirty bowl. “I’ve never seen a sea, either.”

“Then you’ve never surfed down a wave of sand or water?”

She shook her head from side to side, but he held up a finger. “This is how Dothveks say no.” Then he gave a small jerk up of his head and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

Zala imitated him perfectly.

Rixx grinned at her. “You would make an excellent Dothvek.”

Her cheeks mottled pink as they worked side by side to wash up the bowls, and he told her tales of surfing down massive dunes and hunting for sand snakes. He could feel her mother’s gaze on them from behind, but he could tell without looking that she did not disapprove. She was pleased, grateful even, although he did not want to think about how he was so sure about that.

Sensing anyone but a Dothvek was impossible, unless…

Chapter

Eight

Myrria kept her head down as she walked through the market. Her hood covered most of her face, but she took extra care not to make eye contact with anyone as she moved around the stalls and walked purposefully toward the vendors she knew. She avoided the old ladies who sold the pouches of spells and reeked of intense and dark magic. She had no use for the booths hawking oils and healing potions, and she did not need to stop at the stalls that boasted bolts of colorful fabrics. Not today. Even though she would have liked to visit the butcher again, she did not have enough coin for more meat. Not if she needed to feed three of them and the third was significantly larger and needed sustenance to heal.

Pausing at the greengrocer, she bent over a bin of potatoes that were bruised and misshapen. The owner sold them for less, and she could not afford to be particular. She selected three that would be large enough to bake and serve for dinner. She still had a few fresh herbs at home to give the flavor, so it would be palatable.

“Not every night can be meat stew,” she muttered to herself as she paid for the gnarled potatoes and dropped them in her sack.

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