Paedrin inhaled deeply. “I’m waiting for the part when Aboujaoude comes. This is even more interesting without him so far. What did you do?”

“I said no. I couldn’t bring myself to injure that family, to taint what I saw behind the window glass. Drew was four years older than me. The others were on his side. I knew I wouldn’t be able to win that fight. Drew knew it too. Let’s just say that before I was on the ground being kicked in the street, I had broken one of Drew’s teeth, knocked two others into the mud, and almost had my fourth before one of them hit my head. I just remember splashing in that puddle of mud while they were kicking me. It didn’t even really hurt. I remember being so, so tired and wanting to sleep. That’s when Aboujaoude found me.” There was a grim chuckle. “I believe he dislocated Drew’s shoulder. Something about pain being a teacher. Then he cleaned me up and helped me to one of the Rike’s orphanages, where I learned to read, to watch, and to fight.”

Baylen chuffed to himself. “I’ve never told anyone that story before. Now, I know what you’re going to ask. Did I ever go back and meet that girl in the bakery. Yes. Her name is Marae and she runs the bakery herself now. Her father is a bit old, but he still helps out. Her husband’s name is Drew.”

Paedrin started. “Really?”

A chuckle sounded. “I made that part up. Sorry. She is married, and I don’t know her husband’s name. I don’t really care what it is. I buy my bread from that bakery. She smiles at me when I come in, and I always buy the biggest loaves and pay a little extra. Before I left Kenatos to hunt you and Hettie in Lydi, I bought one last loaf. She had a little baby girl in her arms and introduced me to her. I knew that I would never be going back to Kenatos again. But if anything I do can help stop the Plague from returning . . . if that little baby can grow up in a world where there is no Plague . . . well, I’ll take that instead of gold any day.”

“So you never told her how you felt?” Paedrin asked, his emotions struck by the story he had heard.

“Of course not,” Baylen replied. His voice pitched even lower. “For the same reason Khiara doesn’t utter a word about her feelings for Aran. Marae’s happiness is worth more to me than my own.”

Paedrin could see that Baylen truly had observed his companions. He had been watching them all, and Paedrin wondered—a bit uncomfortably—what Baylen had concluded about Hettie and him.

“So it’s not just about helping out Tyrus and a debt owed to a Bhikhu.”

Baylen chuckled. “There are always two reasons we do anything, Paedrin. The real reason and the one that sounds good to everyone else.”

“Well, since you can’t return to Kenatos when this is finished—though I see no reason you won’t be able to, since we will defeat the Plague and we will overthrow the Arch-Rike—you can visit Shatalin whenever you choose. It will take some time to get the temple ready for students. But you are welcome to be part of that family regardless. The strongest bonds come from families—those we are born into and those we choose.”

The keening wind was growing even louder. “It sounds like someone is crying,” Paedrin observed, more loudly. “It’s almost human.”

“It is not human,” Khiara said in a warning voice. With his new sight, Paedrin saw her stand across the other side of the tent.

“Are we missing anyone?” Tyrus demanded. “Did everyone come inside?”

Paedrin glanced around, quickly accounting for everyone. “We are all here, Tyrus, even the drovers.”

“The sound is coming from a beast . . . I can hear it,” Khiara said. “It’s been getting closer and louder. Sounds like no creature I have heard before.”

Quieting everyone with a hush, Paedrin listened to the sound of the wind and sure enough he could discern a howling sound. It was like the yowling of a cat, though much deeper, and caused a chill through his heart.

“I hear it,” Paedrin said.

“So do I,” Prince Aran added.

“Do you want me to go out there and kill it?” Kiranrao grumbled from behind another stack of goods. “It may draw others toward us.”

“Stay inside,” Tyrus said, dropping his voice to a hush. “Draw near me. The storm blinds it. Be still.”

The sound of the creature was now loud enough for all of them to hear it. It cut through the moaning wind that lashed at the taut ropes and canvas. It pierced the darkness, defying them to describe the creature by its howl alone.

“What kind of beast is it, Tyrus?” Paedrin asked.