Salvisa climbed back aboard the cart, and for the rest of the day slept more than she dared admit. Walse had no interest in conversation, and Don seemed discouraged to start. Half her mind wanted to watch the endless fields and forests roll by, but the greater half was still beset with fatigue. Still, as she lay back in the cart, shielded from the sun by Walse's canvas tarpaulin, she realized that even having had little to eat over the last hours her headache had lessened. At least someone, or something, Salvisa didn't know which, seemed more at ease.

Walse stopped his cart shortly after dusk. What he called an inn, Salvisa would have called a shack. Cattle gathered on the ground floor. Their bodies and manure provided the greater portion of heat and fragrance to the inn. There wasn't even enough room for both Walse and Don at the inn- the former took the only guest bed, leaving Don spare cushions and blankets on the floor. Salvisa suspected her humiliation was planned- for a few more potch than seemed necessary, she had to share the same hay as the cattle.

Still, the night was cold, and the barn was warm. Salvisa accepted her humiliation as punishment for betraying her superiors (but not, she told herself in protest, her country) and as the price for any trust Walse and Don could have to spare. By their faces and words, she guessed already that they were third-class citizens. They had no right to be anything to her but grateful for her service to them, and for the grace she gave them despite growing up with higher-born slaves at her beck and call. Then again, what was she now but nothing? Guilt gnawed at her for daring to invoke Harmonian law against the bandits. She'd abandoned her duties at the request of one Bishop, even as she had originally sought out the Rune of Change at the order of another.

Why should she have even trusted that masked man? How much should his earnestness and the darkness of his warnings have shaken her, if she was truly faithful to her lords? Salvisa reached into the pocket of her coat, which she had draped across her like a blanket. The cold metal of the Bishop's ring was still there. Salvisa pulled it out to look at by sputtering candle light. It was a signet with the official seal of the Bishopric, worked in blue and white agate and set in silver. Turning it over between her fingers, she could barely make out an engraving, the number "475". Salvisa slipped the ring over her index finger and curled up in the sweet-smelling hay. She pulled her jacket over her shoulders, determined to somehow find rest between her head full of worries and stomach still too empty after a meager stew of mostly roots. Her sleep that night was deep and dreamless.

"Hey, lady."

Salvisa awoke the next morning to Don tapping at her shoulder. She sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Good Morning." she said

"My dad said to wake you up." He said shyly, "And I wanna say thanks for last night."

"It was nothing. My apologies for hiding, I expected I would only hear the greeting I got anyway."

"Hehe," Don laughed, "You don't seem all that bad for first-class. Mind you, most people around here won't wait to find out. There's a few families who've lost near everyone to slavers."

So, they definitely were third-class citizens. Of all the luck, Salvisa thought. She arose, brushing hay off her clothes before joining Walse and Don for the next part of their journey.

"I don't intend to burden you long. What else is near your village?" Salvisa said after a long period of silent rumination at the back of the cart.

"There's an old ruin on the nearby hill, but it's only foundation really. We farm for the fort just up the river. All the forests around Manastash belong to the fort, and anyone caught in there's likely to be hanged for poaching. Don't know what else you would be interested in nearby. If you walk for a few days, the forest to the southeast is filled with sub-humans; you'd need to pass through there to get to the closest pass to Dunan. To the west is the Waste- no-good scrub until you get to the desert."

"Thank you. How many people are garrisoned at the fort?"

"Three score, maybe three dozen of them soldiers."

"And the rest?"

"Slaves, what the hell do you think?" Walse said. Salvisa could practically hear his eyes roll in disbelief. She found herself offended- slaves were always counted as property owned. No one would include chickens or cattle in the population of a village. For third-class citizens, the difference between a normal serf and a slave was like that between a stray dog and an owned one. Salvisa bit her tongue and kept silent. The conversation died.

The landscape changed slowly as the days went on, turning from flat valley land to foothills with the mountain range beyond looming ever taller in the distance. Salvisa thought about what she would do next to keep her Rune and herself safe with no luck finding a plan she felt confident in. She was still too embarrassed and angry to talk to or even listen to Walse and Don until they stopped to rest their horse. She went through her swordsmanship drills in a desperate effort to empty her mind and caught Don watching.

"Have you used a sword before?" she asked

Don shook his head, "Not allowed. You know that."

"That doesn't mean you haven't. And it's not like I can turn you in." Salvisa smiled, a little more grimly that she wanted

"I'll just watch. Even if we were allowed, we'd never be able to afford one."

"I understand." Salvisa sighed, "I still owe the Temple Guard for my uniform and arms."

"Really?"

"Yes. We are salaried, but also have to purchase everything we use. It's not a problem for a rich family, or for senior officers, but I am neither. When we retire, whatever we still owe comes out of our pension. But that's all moot for me now- I don't know if the balance will go to my parents or my son." A wave of sorrow overtook Salvisa, and she sagged under the weight of it. She wanted to hold Bram and know that he was safe, and was terrified at the thought that he would have more burdens to bear than the Rune and losing his only parent. The Bishops couldn't be that cruel.

"You have a son?" Don's face lit up, catching the chance to move on to a new topic, but not Salvisa's reaction.

"Yes, Bram. He's sixteen. Do you have children?" Salvisa tried to smile pleasantly, but it only made her cheeks pinch. To her horror, tears began welling up in her eyes.

"My first is on the way, the midwife says by late spring. Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine?" Salvisa's voice cracked, and there was no strength to stop her tears from flowing left. She covered her face with one hand and waved Don away, "It's just… I'm fine. Leave me alone."

Don stood stiffly like a startled deer, not sure what to do and more terrified of a woman's tears than anything else.

"If you say so." he said at last. "We should probably get going again."

Salvisa wanted to be invisible as she got back on the cart. She avoided looking at Walse and Don, and tried to stifle her sobs into choked hiccups. Over her own tears and the blood pulsing through her head, she could make out Walse hissing at Don, "What the hell did you do?"