Haru can't help staring at the trunks as Kairas' men unload them, staggering bow-legged across the sand in pairs like a misshapen crab. Earlier, Gou had flipped the lid of one open with her dagger and nearly blinded Haru with the flash of light on gold. Pure, merciless wealth; half the king's treasury must go through this town every day.

Meanwhile, Gou's men are unhitching the four dromads they'd been using to pull the cart. They snort, pawing at the sand, eager to get away from their strange, heavy harnesses.

Makoto keeps glancing at the sky, no doubt urging on the onslaught of sunset. After dark, Damesthebeba seals up like a tortoise in its shell, the winds set to whipping up blinds of sand all around, and all the men of Samezuka's army couldn't pry its residents out. Gou doesn't like staying in the city, but if they don't have time to make good tracks before the sun falls, she'll most likely have them shelter the night. Better to sleep with one eye open and knife in hand then to wake to king's steel in the throat.

Probably, Kairas is aware of the price on his prize's head. Still, watching him stare at the tank, his pale blue eyes soaking in its light like thirsty teeth, Haru can only imagine he finds the risk worth taking. "Aye, you've right delivered this time, lassie," he growls, and before anyone can protest, vaults right into the tank.

Haru sees the siren's mouth open in an 'o' of surprise as muddy boots thud down in flurries of bubbles. In a single swift motion, the man grabs it by the throat and lifts it out of the water.

"Kairas!" shouts Gou as the siren thrashes, water writhing in rivulets down its silver-scaled tail. It chokes out something that sounds an awful lot like "please."

"What the hell are you doing? Put it down!"

He drops it just as suddenly. Haru winces as it hits the bottom of the tank with an audible thud.

"Don't sound so concerned, Captain, 's none of your business now. 'Sides, everyone knows you've got to wait to dawn to kill it, else the scales turn to ash."

"Don't tell me you believe that bullshit."

He shrugs, grinning. "Not me, darlin', but there's plenty of fools who do. You've got a right skinny one there, but by my reckoning that tail'll still serve lots of 'em. Take your gold and run, Captain. Come tomorrow I'll have a hundred pieces of immortality to sell. Compared to that, my gold's nothing but a song."

A coldness settles over the siren's expression, sudden as a curtain drawing closed. It's like he understands what's going to happen to him.

He bares his teeth and sinks them abruptly into Kairas' ankle.

A jet of blood swirls, delicate as silk, into the water. Kairas screams. The siren grinds its teeth, small and pointy as needles, into his ankle, savaging it. Pieces of pants cloth shred like petals around them.

And then Haru and the others can only watch as he kicks the siren off, kicks it again and again against the unyielding glass of the tank until its hand loosens, and again, until the water is also being stained deep blue-violet. Horrified, Haru thinks, so it is true they bleed blue...

Kairas crawls out of the tank with a snarl. The pointed toe of one of his boots is colored ultramarine. Brushing the proffered hand of one of his men away, he growls, "Just hitch the fucking thing up and get it into the city."

"Better bind that quickly," Gou calls as he limps heavily out of the tent. "I've heard their bites are poisonous." Her tone of voice suggests she hopes it's true.

Suddenly, Makoto kneels in front of the tank, where the siren is swiping at its split lips with one delicate hand, other arm braced around its stomach. "I'm so sorry," he mutters, pressing a hand to the glass, which ripples and throbs with the light of the spell. "I didn't know it was going to be like this."

"It can't understand you, Makoto," says Gou wearily.

"I know, but—"

"But nothing! It's done!" she snaps. After a moment, she gentles: "Come on, Mako-tan. I know you feel bad, but you can't do anything now. It's over."

Still, Haru can't help glancing over his shoulder again as he leaves the tent. The siren's got a hand pressed to the glass, too. It mouths something, lost to the sound-spell.

"Its eyes," mutters Makoto to no one in particular. "I swear it could understand us."

Haru knows without asking that he's imagining himself in its place. Imagining himself counting the hours till dawn, horribly alone and impossibly far from home.

()

Even though they're considerably lighter on their feet without the burden of the tank, the sun is well on its way to setting before everything's hitched up and ready to go. Kairas turns to Gou, his leg swollen under a makeshift bandage. "What d'you say to splitting an inn, Captain? Better for me to keep your company than try to hide a fishman in this stinkin' city of thieves. Will only be for a night, then you can go your pretty way."

With a sigh and a gaze at the implacable sky, Gou orders them into the city for the night. Even though it seems like Makoto's still pretty pissed at Gou —well, as pissed as someone like him can get—he sticks unusually close by her side as they ride through the teeth of the city's gates. Haru can understand—tough as she is, Gou's still a girl, and she cannot fight off all the desperate, animal-like men of Damesthebeba on her own no matter how sharp she keeps her sword or her tongue.

They settle at a true hovel of an inn near the edge of the city, one that both Kairas and Gou are familiar with. The innkeeper protests when they order him to keep the entire inn for just their two crews, but the jangle of a few pieces of gold shuts him up. Still jittery, Gou orders them to keep their dromads in harness and most of the carts hitched outside; they'll move as soon as dawn arrives and the winds die down. More likely than not, Haru guesses, she doesn't want to be around for the bidding frenzy that'll start up as soon as the siren dies.

Makoto so obviously feels guilty that, as they're bedding down on the inn's dusty ground floor, Haru feels the need to whisper, "You couldn't have done anything."

"I know, but I still feel terrible."

"Stupid consciences."

He smiles wanly. "Right? Thanks, though."

"Try to sleep."

"Nah, won't be able." He scratches the head of his dromad, offering him slices of peo fruit from his pocket. "I already told the Captain I'll take first watch. You should sleep, though—tomorrow'll be a hard ride, she'll probably want to put a lot of distance between us and the city."

"Mm," he mumbles, shifting to avoid one of the Iwatobi members' elbows. Outside, the winds are beginning to howl. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't."

Still, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't know Hanewa and Jin were also taking watch. They'll keep Makoto from performing any stupid heroics. With luck, all of them will make it out of this alive.

Well, all the humans, at least. Trying to ignore niggling memories of his grandmother, Haru closes his eyes, chest tight and heavy with guilt. "Night."

"Good night, Haru."

()

He awakes with a jolt.

A snore, Haru realizes. Whoever's sleeping next to him is snoring like thunder, the sound sawing right through the shrieking wind. Gods, that's loud. He gives the man a solid kick and promptly bites back a curse. His toes feel fucking bruised.

Wait—

"Makoto?" he whispers. As his eyes adjust to the dark, there's no mistaking the man slumped next to him.

I thought he was taking watch. He prods him in the cheek. "Hey. Makoto." The man doesn't move an inch. He's really out. A sudden bolt of fear runs through Haru—has he collapsed for some reason?

"Are you okay?" This time, he slaps him pretty hard in the face—anyone should wake up from that. But Makoto still doesn't respond.

That's when Haru catches sight of the thin shaft sticking out of the side of his neck, a tiny thing no longer than the upper joint of his pinky.

A dart…?

He reaches for it, squinting. Steel grooves slide slick as serpents' scales beneath his hands. This is a finely-made weapon. It feels like capitol gear, but that can't be.

His hand slides to the hilt of his dagger as he rises silently. Everyone's asleep. Everyone. That's Jin, asleep on the floor, and Hanewa lies a little further down, half his body out the doorway. Both of them have been stuck with darts, too. Through a lull in the wind, he hears the dromads whinnying uneasily.

Stepping lightly, Haru moves outside.

Any stars and moon are obscured nearly entirely by the sand howling through the streets. He winces as grit claws at him, raising an arm into the wind. A nearby dromad snuffles at him softly as he grabs its flank for balance. There's a trail of bodies resting in the sand. Haru's heart leaps. He nudges one with his foot, and it turns slightly, letting out a grunt of sleep.

Crouched low, he makes his way quickly to the massive chassis holding the tank, blade out. He breaks into a sprint when he hears a curse from inside, followed by a low gurgle.

He sweeps back the canvas flap, flicking wildly and undone in the wind, and blinks sand out of his eyes. There's a man in front of him, red-headed, decked in black riding gear. He's holding a wicked scimitar shedding red like wine onto the ground, and he's looking straight at the wide-eyed siren.

Haru thinks vaguely, that's Kairas on the ground, and jumps the man, shouting "Help! Intruder!"

The man reacts impossibly fast. The curve of his blade as he turns nearly catches Haru in the throat. Haru blocks it with his dagger, gritting his teeth as the force of the blow rings up his arm. "Drop it," he cautions him. "You're outnumbered."

"Fuck you," the man growls, and swipes at Haru's side with a tiny jeweled dagger.

Just in time, Haru leaps back. Ambidextrous, interesting. But he's not the only one—

"Haru!"

That's Gou. "In here!" he shouts.

"Fire!" calls a third voice. "Fire on the ridge!" A horn blast shatters the wind, bellow echoing across the city.

The man stares out the side of the tent. "No…"

Gou clambers into the tent, and the man goes completely white.

"You—"

He hesitates for a fatal moment, she leaps at him, and in two seconds Gou's knife is pressed hard against his throat.

"Drop the blade."

"Or what—"

She tugs the knife closer and a line of blood open up on the man's pale neck. For some reason, he's laughing hysterically, even as he opens his hand and the scimitar clatters to the dust. "Oh, fuck me. Fuck me. I should've known—"

"Shut up," she hisses, "or I'll slit your royal throat open."

"At least leave Nitori out of this?"

"Shut up. Haru, wake the others. We have to go."

Haru can't break himself away from the man's eyes—the exact same wine-clear color as Gou's, sparking flint-like with rage in the dull light of the tank. Lion's eyes.

"What do they mean, fire?"

"It means, pretty boy," spits the man, still struggling against Gou's arm, "that the king's men are here." He flicks a glance at the siren. "To take back what's his."

"Haru, go!"

He goes, but there's no need—everyone's already up, roused by the horn blast, and scrambling to ride. Makoto and the others are still comatose, and Haru grabs one of his legs and helps the others heave him onto one of the sturdier dromads, another rider mounting close behind. One of the men speeds off towards the gate, no doubt to get the thing raised. A glance skywards freezes Haru's breath in his throat—fire is racing down the steep side of the dune towards them, combed horizontal in strands of burning orange by the wind. They're rolling huge barrels of pitch or oil down the hill, hundreds of them. They're going to burn them out.

Haru's eyes shoot to the canyon. One way in, one way out.

The herd is panicking now, their cries shivering skywards as they strain away from the fire. Cursing, Haru struggles to grab the reins of Gou's majestic piebald. But he jerks viciously away and runs off with a scream.

"No!"

"It's fine! Go, go! You, get the fuck on—" As Haru finally manages to locate Ankle, Gou wrestles her captive onto one of the four dromads still hitched to the chassis. Unused to her scent or the stranger's, Kairas' animals buck and yell, and she yells back, squeezing her legs to stay on her mount's saddleless back. Astonishingly, they settle quickly—Gou's always been good with the animals.

The stranger snickers. "You might want to let go of that knife, little lady, else you'll fall off—"

"We'll both fall."

"Alright, alright, methrad, I got it." He grabs the reins in one large hand and flicks them hard against the dromad's neck, murmuring a command, and it sprints forward. "This is okay, right?"

The gate's barely creaking open as Haru reaches it; he has to duck to keep its iron teeth from catching him in the face. He reins in Ankle quickly, turning around. The chassis is hurtling towards the gate full-tilt. It's not going to make it. He tenses for the shatter of glass—

But, astonishingly, the thing somehow slides under, although the canvas covering gets caught on the spikes and is swept off. Shouts beat the air as the slower riders run into the cloth, bursting through with raised arms or shredding straight through with upraised weapons.

Something thuds into the ground at Ankle's feet; she shrieks and takes off down the canyon. Black steel lays out a macabre forest around them. At least they didn't set the arrows on fire, thinks Haru, as he yanks Ankle around a three-foot shaft.

"Cease!" yells Gou from behind them. "I have your prince! Cease your fire for the throne!"

Haru doesn't know whether she's totally bullshitting or if there's some grain of truth in this claim. Either way, the arrows stop abruptly as shouted orders echo along the canyon ridge. He forces his head down, narrowing his eyes against the sand as it batters and scratches his face. He's thankful for it. Without the sand in their eyes and the wind snatching at their weapons, there's no way the king's guard would be missing them this often.

"It's Iwatobi!" Gou's captive shouts. "Fire, you fools!"

"Shut up!" There's a loud crack and then silence; Haru guesses that Gou's headbutted the man into silence. From above, frantic yells: "I hear him, it's the prince! Stop! Stop!"

The road is widening up and sloping skywards; they're nearing the mouth of the canyon. There'll be guards there. Haru switches the reins to one hand, steadying the other around the hilt of his sword.

There's the first of them, but they're not attacking, swaying in confusion as shadowy riders whip past them into the open desert and their officers yell at them to stop. "The prince—where's the prince—"

Haru leans back to look, but Gaminh, one of Iwatobi's men, grabs him by the arm and hauls him onwards. "Don't look back—"

"But the Captain—"

"She'll be all right. We've plans for this." The man releases his arm and spurs his dromad on. "Ride faster, newbie. We need to be in Jethuba by dawnbreak."

A little late, a company of guards breaks off the flank of the force and gives pursuit. Iwatobi splits like cinders from a fire, shooting off in different directions. Haru understands now, why the bandits lavish care and attention on their dromads so—the animals don't so much run as vanish into the crack of opening dawn, like ghosts. The king's mounts aren't bad, but they're no match for speed. Still, they ride their dromads nearly into the ground, getting away. Beneath Haru, Ankle's muscles pump hot and steady as iron bellows, her breath steaming in the cold air. He's no great rider, and can only cling onto her neck, praying she doesn't misstep.

Eventually, they slow, nearly imperceptibly. Haru turns and sees black specks halted some half-kilometer away. "Why did they stop?" he pants, patting Ankle's heaving neck.

"They won't follow us into Jethuba," Gaminh replies, "not too far. Royal guards are cowards. They'll wait for their superiors to regroup first. This way."

Soon, they catch sight of the rest of Iwatobi, gathered at the foot of a plateau like a tiny, heaving pile of ash. Bringing Ankle to a halt, Haru catches sight of a few of them trying to rouse Makoto.

"Is he okay?"

"Aye, perfectly—just sleeping like a babe."

"Good timing," calls another, "to sleep through all the work."

Haru wheels Ankle back around and peers east.

"You all right, newbie?"

"I'm fine. Where's Gou?"

"She'll be along presently. You'll see."

Haru shakes his head, annoyed. "You keep saying that. How do you know she's coming?"

Gaminh grabs him by the arm. "C'mere." They ride back up the steep slope to the plateau's top, picking their way through sand churned by dozens of hoofmarks. He squints, then points. "There. Y'see?"

"What? I don't see any…"

But then he does.

The chassis crawls slowly down the edge of the dune, trailing white scarves of sand. The sun shoots through the water in the exposed tank, turning its shadow into a starburst on a leash, a tamed diamond.