An agonizing moment later, hands gripped his calf and he snarled and jerked in their grip as something cold and wet touched his raw flesh.

“Lie still!” Alec ordered.

The cold sensation came back, but this time the pain subsided considerably. He tried to look over his shoulder, but Alec pushed him down again. “Stay still, please. It’s going to take a few more.”

After the second flower the pain was bearable. After the third he spit out the belt and buried his head in his folded arms, covered in cold sweat and overwhelmed by the heavy perfume of the healing flowers.

Alec used one more, and the last of the pain was gone. “It worked!”

Seregil rolled over and stuck out his arm. “Do the other.”

“Maybe we should wait.”

Seregil let out a shaky laugh. “If we do that, you’ll have to run me down and catch me. Just do it!” He jammed the belt back in his mouth and locked his left arm across his eyes.

Either he had more feeling in the underside of his arm or Alec had to cut deeper. Seregil was fighting back wheezing little screams before Alec stopped and applied the flowers.

When it was over he let his left arm fall and lay staring up at the dawn sky, willing himself not to throw up.

Alec bent over him, concerned. “Does it still hurt?”

“No,” Seregil gasped, “but that was less fun than I thought it would be.”

Vomiting less imminent now, he sat up and examined his forearm. The brand was gone. The skin where it had been was smooth and thin, but whole. There was some lingering pain, actually, but nothing he couldn’t stand. He looked up at the others. Alec was pale, and the fingers holding the knife were bloody but still steady. Ilar looked sick as he knelt beside Sebrahn with the cup. “Thank you. Everyone.” He reached over and gave the rhekaro a shaky pat on the head. “Especially you!”

The rhekaro held out its right forefinger; a drop of his white blood had welled out from the little cut there.

Seregil smiled. “Yes. You made my pain go away. Thank you.”

Alec managed a grin when he handed the bloody knife to Seregil. “My turn, if you’re up to it. Pinch up the skin and cut under it. You’re less likely to cut into the meat that way.”

Seregil shuddered as he handed Alec the belt. “I’m really glad you didn’t say that while you were still cutting.”

Alec shrugged, then put his hands on Sebrahn’s shoulders. “Seregil is going to cut me now. That’s all right. I’m letting him, and you’ll make those flowers for me, too, won’t you?”

The rhekaro gazed up at him, silent and emotionless as ever.

“All right.” Alec stretched out on the ground between them and buried his face in his arms. His voice was muffled as he added, “I just hope you’re as good as I am at skinning things.”

Seregil’s hand tightened around the black hilt. “Bite on the leather. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Ilar gripped Alec’s calf at the ankle and just below the knee, his face inches from Seregil’s. Their eyes met, and Seregil was surprised at the encouragement he saw there as Ilar murmured, “Don’t make him wait.”

Seregil pinched up the smooth golden skin around Alec’s brand. The hard muscle underneath was lean and corded. Seregil took a deep breath, then sliced away the brand in one go, leaving a raw oval of exposed flesh. He sat back on his heels and watched as Sebrahn placed a large dark flower on the bleeding wound. It disappeared, just as he’d seen at the goatherd’s cottage. The rhekaro made three more, and when the last had done its work and the wound was closed, Alec let out a choked moan and rolled over, still clutching the belt between his teeth. Tears of pain welled in his eyes as he stuck out his arm and gave Seregil an imploring look that said hurry.

Seregil quickly sliced out the second brand and helped Sebrahn place the flowers. When that wound was healed he grabbed Alec’s hand in both of his, heedless of the blood. “Better?”

Alec spit out the gnawed belt and closed his eyes. “You’re right,” he whispered. “That wasn’t much fun.”

Sebrahn curled up next to him with his head on Alec’s chest. Alec stroked his hair. “You did a good job.”

Seregil looked over at Ilar, and saw him swallow hard. He was terrified. “I could hide if the slave takers come.”

“We can’t risk that. If we’re caught with a marked slave, Alec and I are just as dead as if we’d stayed branded. It doesn’t take long, and the flowers take away the pain very quickly.”

Ilar nodded slowly, though he was trembling badly. “I’m not as brave as you two. You’d better hold me down. Seregil, will you do the cutting?”

“All right. Lie down.”

Ilar was already whimpering as Alec lay down across him, pinning Ilar’s leg with both hands. Seregil braced one knee on the back of Ilar’s calf and went to work.

Ilar screamed around the belt but didn’t struggle very much as Seregil sliced off the branded skin. Sebrahn placed the flowers as before, but Seregil noticed that they were smaller now, and it took more of them to heal the wound.

When that was over, Alec got off Ilar. “Turn over.”

“I can’t! No more!” Ilar whimpered.

“Yes, you can.” Alec roughly flipped Ilar over and flattened himself across the sobbing man to grip his arm.

Ilar did struggle this time, making it harder for Seregil to make a single clean cut. His fingers were slippery with blood and he got only half the brand, and managed to slice his own thumb, too.

“Stop moving, damn it! You’re only making it worse.”

Ilar froze, trying to choke back his sobs.

“Cover his eyes, Alec.” Seregil got the rest of the brand off and sat back to let Sebrahn do his healing work.

Despite the healing, Ilar was a sobbing wreck. Seregil patted his shoulder awkwardly. “That’s enough, now. Come on. Get up.”

Seregil tried to pull him up, but Ilar’s legs wouldn’t hold him and Seregil ended up on the ground again with Ilar halfway in his lap, clutching Seregil’s coat in both hands. Seregil had little choice but to hold him until he calmed down. He could feel the raised ridges of old scars under his hands, through the back of Ilar’s thin robe. Past suffering had made Seregil stronger, and Alec, too. It had broken Ilar.

“You’re getting blood all over him.”

Seregil looked up to find Alec cradling Sebrahn in his arms. He was watching Ilar with a mix of pity and disgust. But when he looked up at Seregil, he caught a flash of resentment there, too.

They sat like that for a long time as the sun came up, each of them holding another in their arms.

CHAPTER 43 Divisions

ALEC HAD NO idea what the date was, but the wind grew sharper every day and smelled of winter. At night the ground under their feet sparkled with frost.

With careful rationing, and a bit of luck he had hunting, they managed to make Tiel’s food last two nights, but the cold was rapidly becoming more of a danger. When they had to rest there was nothing to do but huddle even closer together than before, trying to keep the heat in each other’s bodies.

Three days out from the goatherd’s cottage not only were they still not in sight of the ocean, but it began to rain. By dawn it was coming down so hard that he and Seregil gave up on keeping watch and joined Ilar in the scant shelter of a ruined cottage they’d come across.

“At least water won’t be a problem today,” Seregil joked through chattering teeth.

When they moved on that night, they were still hungry and filthy, but little rills flowed in the formerly dry gullies, enough to keep the water skin filled.

Since healing the girl, Sebrahn had returned to his usual silent, passive state, showing no interest in diverging from each night’s chosen march. Hungry most of the time himself, Alec fed him several times a day, and the rhekaro seemed content with the extra feedings. He nestled close to Alec when he slept, but he always did that, anyway.