Diavla pulled herself out of trance and heaved a tired sigh. She blinked a few times and looked at the countryside, then at Orvan, who was driving. Kervan was hiding in the back among the bags of salt again, out of the cold wind.

  She yawned hugely and shook her head, trying to wake up. “Why do I always want a nap after using magic?”

  “You don't always,” the old elf corrected her.

  Diavla thought about it, then nodded. “You're right. It's just...filling a magic item is so boring.” Diavla looked at the amulet she had just filled. “And I guess it is more...draining...than making a simple call.”

  “You've been doing very well. I was impressed by the way you lit the fire last night. You've gotten stronger, haven't you?”

  “Thank you, Orvan. Yes, I have. Something changed last week, and I'm still trying to adjust. I'm not sure what I am capable of.”

  “Well, we're all grateful that you can fill those things. Make sure you convince Tom to wear that one—he's the most susceptible of all of us, and if he falls, the rest of us are doomed.”

  “I will.” Diavla eyed the older elf for a moment. “How are you holding up?”

  Orvan took a deep breath through his nose. “Left foot, right foot.” He smiled faintly. “It's the only way to get anywhere. And...I don't want to make it harder for the rest of you to get home. It will be a long journey back.”

  Diavla smiled sadly. “One day, Orvan, I hope you find something that makes you happy again.”

  “She was...my everything.” Orvan's eyes started to get red, so he batted her lightly on the leg. “Go. Your erotalsh would like to see you, I'm sure.” Diavla took the hint and hopped down, leaving the old man to his grief.

  The slavers of the Human Empire have much to answer for, she thought grimly, as she walked quickly to catch up to the front wagon. She did her best to set the thought aside. She had a fire of rage that was always burning somewhere deep in her soul these days, but she kept it sealed in a jar. She knew it was unhealthy to let it fester indefinitely. I'll open it when we're home, she promised herself. It's just temporary. A year or so.

  She shook her head to clear it, and turned her soul to more pleasant thoughts, such as touching Tom, being near him, talking with him. She caught up to the seat of the front wagon. Varga, the troublemaker, spotted her first, smirked, and proceeded to seize Tom for a passionate kiss. Diavla sighed and hopped up on Tom's other side.

  Curious to see Tom's reaction, she asked drily, “Am I interrupting something?” Tom jolted, breaking the kiss. He had a guilty look on his face, and looked back and forth between the two women. They let him panic for several moments, then both started laughing at the same time. Tom looked very confused and still wary. Diavla had mercy on him. “It is good, Tom. Varga is just being rude.” She thumped her friend lightly on the head.

  Tom frowned in thought, then shrugged. “Varga is Varga.”

  “I certainly am.”

  When Diavla didn't hear Eubexa translating, she started to turn around and stick her head in the back. Varga waved her off. “She just fell asleep,” she whispered.

  “She's sleeping?” Diavla was surprised. “Sleep?” she simplified for Tom, pointing to the back.

  The big human nodded. “Varga, you do, please.” He handed off the reins, then twisted on the seat to face Diavla. He held his arms wide apart. “Eubexa pain.” Then he pulled his hands together until they were half as far apart. Then he did it again, and then a third time.

  She finally asked for less pain, Diavla gathered. She hasn't been sleeping well, despite all the Healing she received, because she still was in too much pain. She looked thoughtfully at the back of the wagon. Sleep can only help her, in her condition. We'll just do without a translator for a while. The physicker in Diavla was delighted.

  “Tom, we speak Western, please.”

  “Varga doesn't speak Western,” Tom protested.

  “Tom, you want Elvish. We need Western.”

  Her lover nodded. “That (something something.) Yes.”

  “You just want to shut me out of the conversation,” Varga complained.

  “You could always learn Western,” Diavla threw back at her.

  Varga recited while counting on the fingers of her left hand: “Hello, want, now, kiss, sex. What more do I need? Oh, and (something,)” she added with a smirk at Tom.

  “What was that last?”

  “It means 'husband'. That nice man in the other wagon thought Tom and I were married, because of my ring.” Varga held her hand out and admired it again, smugly.

  “Really? I wonder what they'll make of mine, then? Especially if they see both of us?”

  “Well, we're slaves, so people will probably assume that he's just having sex with us because he can.”

  “So why did the man assume Tom was your husband?”

  “It dodges me.” Varga shrugged.

  Tom cleared his throat. “I (something something) we (something something) speak Western?”

  “We are sorry, Tom. Yes. We speak Western.”

  For Varga's benefit, they went over parts of the body again. Head, eyes, ears, nose, mouth, tongue—Varga did not miss the opportunity for lewd pantomimes—and several other words. Of course, Varga demanded the names of male and female body parts and, once equipped with those, both of them had fun embarrassing Tom by talking about his body in great detail, illustrating by poking at his muscles. Tom had to smack Varga's hand away at one point when she got too adventurous.

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  “Ow! You hit me!” Her friend protested in surprise.

  “I get one you hand, you no stop. I do...I do, you stop.”

  “You do seem determined to push and find out exactly what you can get away with around him,” Diavla put in.

  “Yeah, but he's usually more peaceful about it.” Varga rubbed her wrist and scowled at Tom.

  “His hands were busy.”

  “You no do, I no do,” Tom added, giving her fair warning.

  “I see the scene,” Varga grumbled.

  “Varga know now,” Diavla translated.

  They continued their slow language lesson, interrupted repeatedly with flirting. Hours passed. Eubexa slept solidly through the day, and only woke up as they were about to make camp. The sickly elf gave a prodigious yawn. Diavla stuck her head through the flap to see. Eubexa had her veil off, but it was fairly dark in the back, so Diavla did not get the full shock of her appearance.

  “Good evening,” she greeted the sleepyhead.

  “Good—” Eubexa froze. “Oh, no. Did I sleep all day?” She sounded horrified.

  “Yes. Looks like you needed it. You've had magical Healing, remember. You should have been sleeping heavily all along.”

  “I'm so sorry—”

  “Don't be,” Diavla cut her off, confident in what Tom would say. “You know he wants you to get healthy first.”

  “'Healthy' is not an option,” Eubexa pointed out, bitterly. “But I take your point.” Carefully, the invalid put on her veil and her gloves. She looked down beside her. “I should be reading the book...but it's getting dark.” She still sounded tired.

  “Eubexa, we have another eight or nine days on the road. You have plenty of time to finish the book before we get to Oak Mill. The more you sleep, the more alert you will be later. Have a little—” Diavla caught herself.

  “A little faith?” Eubexa asked, her voice cold and accusing. Neither spoke for several moments. Finally Diavla sighed.

  “Eubexa, the world is full of terrible people, but someday, I hope you figure out that Tom isn't one of them.” Diavla withdrew, but heard the other elf mutter to herself.

  “So far...”

  ° ? ? ? °

  While Kervan and Tom set up the tents, Varga gathered firewood, Orvan sorted through ingredients, and Eubexa watched curiously as Diavla lit the campfire with magic. It went a lot faster and more easily this time.

  Spirits of Passion can do a lot more than I realized, Diavla mused. They are...intensifying everything, including my magic. No wonder the Wise Woman was so disappointed when I showed little Affinity for Healing and none for Passion.

  Keeping others out of my soul was easier, and safer...but I wasn't as alive, before. Whatever changed in me, I am glad of it. She looked at Tom fondly. And I think I know who the culprit is.

  She watched as Tom started a different set of practice drills off to one side. Tonight, it looked as if he were brawling against an imaginary opponent. He was light on his feet—for a human, anyway—which was an accomplishment for someone his size.

  He could probably use a sparring partner, but doesn't want to ask any of us. Is he worried about hurting us? No, he guarded a tavern. I've seen him subdue Varga in an instant, without harming her. Diavla pondered. He might be thinking about the control magic on the collars, but we're not wearing the collars now. He's probably just hesitant about acting controlling around us.

  Diavla thought again about how effortlessly Tom had grabbed Varga and pinned her, and started feeling warm. She tried to imagine herself getting pinned like that, and her heart quickened a bit. She felt conflicted about it, though. Oddly, she didn't feel conflicted at all about Tom doing that to Varga.

  Something to think about for when I'm a lot bolder, perhaps.

  She cleared her throat and calmed herself. She turned, and saw Eubexa sitting and watching her. She wondered what the sick elf was thinking about. That veil gives her one impressive gaming face, Diavla thought, not for the first time.

  Dinner was something Orvan called noodles, with eggs and vegetables mixed in. What an odd base, she mused. A bit more flavor than rice...is it made with wheat? Orvan confirmed her guess, and she complimented his cooking, as did everyone.

  Eubexa couldn't get enough of it. Orvan deliberately gave Eubexa a huge serving, and she sat very still after eating the whole thing. She's trying to work up the nerve to ask for more, Diavla guessed. She looked around. Everyone else had finished eating. Orvan was ahead of her, though.

  “Eubexa, this doesn't keep. I'm going to pitch the leftovers, unless you want some.”

  “I'll...take some, please.”

  “Say hold.” Orvan ladled more into her bowl. Eubexa never did, and took the rest. “You don't have to eat it all. Pitch what you don't want when you're done.”

  “Thank you very much, Orvan,” Eubexa told him, with a bit more warmth in her tone than usual.

  Once again, Tom put himself on first watch. Diavla considered staying up to welcome him to bed, but if she were going to do that, she would want to sit with Tom, and they would get distracted, and...Diavla flushed with a smile. I'll have to wait for morning.

  Varga came over to her with a spare mug. “Have a drink with me, sexy?”

  Diavla took the mug and sniffed at it suspiciously. It was wine. “This is from the cask in the corner. I thought it might be yours. Is this the gift you said you had for me?”

  Varga grinned widely. “Oh, no. This is but a passing gift. Your real gift is much more...useful.”

  Diavla took a long drink. “When do I get this present?”

  “That depends on how nice you are to me.”

  “Guess I'll never know then.”

  “Jerk.” Varga made as if to shove her shoulder but Diavla held up her mug. The redhead chose not to risk any of the precious wine spilling. “Drink that so I can have my wicked way with you.”

  “We'll see who has who,” Diavla told her through half-closed eyes, taking another swig.

  ° ? ? ? °

  Varga ended up joining Diavla in the tent she meant to share with Tom. She probably wants reassurance that I haven't lost interest in her now that Tom and I are together. Diavla was happy to provide, and drank more than she should have.

  I bet we're distracting Tom, though. He's probably patrolling farther out from camp so that his round ears don't pick up the noises we're making. For her part, Diavla was trying to see whether she could express her passion silently, without losing any intensity. She could imagine it being a useful skill.

  Varga managed to wear her out, yet fell asleep first. A light rain had started by the time Diavla fumbled her way out of the tent to do her necessary. She was surprised to come upon Eubexa. The sick elf was sitting on a rock near Diavla's tent.

  “Eubexa? What are you doing sitting in the rain?”

  The other elf sighed. “Reminiscing.” Diavla frowned, exhaustion and ale making her a bit slow on the uptake. Eubexa shifted slightly. “I can't have sex any more, but it...feels good to hear others enjoying themselves. I wanted to be closer. It's... hard to explain.”

  Diavla shrugged. “I have no objection, but you don't want to get sick.”

  “It would be nice to get out of the rain,” Eubexa conceded. She gripped her walking stick and stood carefully. “Sometime...” The sick elf trailed off.

  “Sometime?”

  Eubexa hesitated for a long moment. “Never mind."

  Diavla blinked and swayed a bit. “I gotta go water the dirt.”

  When she returned, Eubexa was placing three buckets in a precarious pyramid, and trying to figure out how to climb up it. “Saa! Wait for Tom to swing by on his patrol! He'll lift you up. He lifts me up. I want to sleep in an inn. The walls are smoother than a tree...” Diavla lost her train of thought, but found it again. She waved a finger at Eubexa in warning. “Don't hurt yourself. Wait.”

  Eubexa stared at the buckets, then nodded. “That's good advice. Thank you.”

  Diavla heaved a sigh. Thinking was too much work. “I wish I could just...burn the sickness out of you,” she murmured.

  “Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment. A cleansing spell would be a big help, though. Can you cleanse with your magic?”

  “Cleanse!” Diavla commanded, pointing at Eubexa with both hands. A moment later her arms dropped to her sides. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  “You keep saying 'thank you',” Diavla muttered. “Why? I can't do demon shit. Can't Heal. Can't...” The drink is making me grim, she realized. “I gotta go sleep.”

  “You fed me.”

  Diavla frowned, puzzled. “We all fed you. Feed you. No, fed you. You're not eating right now.”

  “Never mind. Good night, Diavla.”

  She doesn't make any sense, Diavla grumbled, stumbling back into her tent and curling up with Varga. No sense. No...sense...

  Tomorrow is a new day. That was her last thought before sleep took her.