Phoebe was nearly to the orphanage when someone tapped her shoulder, and she made the mistake of stopping.

  "Hey miss," said the man she saw when she made the further mistake of turning. "What's a young girl like you doin' out and about after dark? And why's your head all covered up? Tryna hide an engram, are we?"

  The rune on her cheek pulsed. Here, closer to Ecliptica, they called the things engrams rather than runes. Phoebe thought coming into the city at night was a better option, just before the gates were closed and the stream of people in and out was thinning. She thought the darkness would make her less conspicuous. It had done the opposite. She noticed people following her almost immediately, and picking up her pace hadn't helped. Now, one of them had caught up to her, and she needed to deal with him before the rest surrounded her.

  Phoebe saw other slaves following their masters, like children following their parents. Their masters were like masks of invisibility. She saw an older fellow bearing a rune on his forearm, following a young man into a small home. Phoebe felt exposed and naked compared to him. Everyone's eyes were deflected from him to his master.

  Phoebe saw shadows take positions in the street and turns ahead. She focused on the face in front of her. It was shaven, but not young, and certainly not friendly. There was a rune on his cheek, a slave rune just like hers. If you were going to be a slave, you might as well be higher on the pecking order. There were slave soldiers, slave tax collectors, slave everything. Phoebe wondered if there were slave kings somewhere.

  "I- I'm getting food," she said, thinking too quickly. "There's a farmer who saves her best for the time just before she closes. My husband won't have anyone else's, er, if you take my meaning."

  "Hm," the man said, squinting at her eyes. "I've lived here all my life, girl, and I don't know anybody stupid enough to save the best for last. Someone would steal it, I reckon. Somebody smart, like me."

  The stranger seemed the type who was very familiar with scraps and leftovers. Phoebe wasn't about to argue with him, but the problem was, he was arguing with her.

  "You mind your business, sir," Phoebe said sharply. She turned away from him, only to nearly collide with two more men who leered down at her.

  Oppzis unhelpfully added that he did tell her entering Aleb at night was a bad idea.

  Fuck off. I'll just dash out of here.

  Oppzis reminded her that the spell needed time to regenerate, or she'd shred her legs. Besides, in a city, she would splatter against something. This wasn't the open dunes.

  "There's some money in returnin' a slave," said the first man, too close behind her. "Or even better, re-selling one. We get a lot like you around here, little girl. That dress you're wearin' isn't doin' you any favors."

  Phoebe held her bag to her chest, refusing to turn back around. She didn't know what to do. The story wasn't working.

  It's starting to activate anyway, she realized, a similar sensation beneath her gloves and on her cheek as the rune reacted.

  Oppzis told her to control it before the magic acted up on its own, like when she'd killed the snake. She might run into a wall, or she might hit one of these men with the same force. Maiming one of them would not help.

  I know! she sent back, panicked. You're not being –

  The stranger grabbed her shoulder and made her turn to face him.

  "Leave me alone!" she snapped, voice rising in terror. Before she could react, he pulled down the scarf over her face, revealing the ugly purple rune on her cheek.

  "Ah-ha," he said with satisfaction. "I figured that's what was – "

  "Excuse me, mister," said another voice. Female, this time.

  Phoebe looked over the man's shoulder and he turned to follow. They saw a broad-shouldered, middle-aged woman striding toward them indignantly. Her hair was commoner length, and untidy. She wore simple clothes and an expression no one in their right mind argued with.

  "This yours, ma'am?" said the man.

  "As a matter of fact, it is," the woman said. "Thank you for stopping her. And before you ask, yes, have some compensation."

  She passed the leader a few coins, and motioned for him to step aside.

  "This is all?" he frowned.

  "You're lucky to receive even that much," the woman said. "All you did was hold her still while I caught up to her. Now be off. I have a slave to punish."

  The man glared at the new stranger, but stepped aside. Phoebe felt the shadows grow thinner all around her in the dusty Aleb streets. Her power had retreated. She regarded the new woman suspiciously. She wore simple clothes, better-maintained and cleaner than Phoebe's. What color and craftsmanship remained indicated the wearer was from around here.

  "Trying to take me for free, are you?" she said, stepping back. The woman sighed patiently and offered a hand. She said, in a hushed voice:

  "Euffie, it's me. Marthera."

  Phoebe gasped as the rune on her cheek bit down. Recollections escaped its fraying grasp, but only in vague shapes. She held a hand to her face. Everything started to spin.

  "E-Euffie?" she managed.

  "Oh dear," Marthera said, stepping closer to support her. "You've still got an engram on you, don't you? Here, come with me."

  The more the woman spoke, the harder the rune fought. Phoebe knew this person, and knew her well. That made Phoebe want to trust her. She allowed herself to be guided away, back toward the city gate and through it to the countryside beyond. Things blurred as her brain fought with the memory locks. Her rescuer was talking, but the words didn't make it through the haze.

  Finally, with a few painful snaps like the weaker parts of a bedframe giving in, Phoebe's head came to a standstill with the rune. She had gained some ground, but was sure the magic reclaimed a few bits for itself. She was still on the road out of town, with Marthera at her side, guiding her through the night. The air was cool, and the Fade hung in the sky miles to the south.

  "You … " Phoebe said, recognition in her voice now. She nearly tripped but Marthera righted her.

  "Me," the woman agreed. "Marthera. The orphanage keeper. Hello again. Has your engram settled down?"

  Phoebe nodded. "What did you call me earlier?"

  Marthera slowed, holding Phoebe carefully before she repeated it. "Euffie."

  Phoebe flinched, but the rune made no argument. It no longer owned that territory.

  "Euffie," she repeated, tasting the word. "Was that my name?"

  "That's the only name I was given for you," Marthera replied.

  Phoebe, or rather Euffie, took a moment to process that. She had a name, and it wasn't Phoebe. She was alright with that; Phoebe was what Derek called her.

  "How did you find me?"

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  Marthera snorted. "The same way everyone else and their third cousin found you. What were you thinking? Walking into Aleb, at night, alone? You should be ashamed – "

  She kept talking, but Euffie wasn't listening. Images and feelings coursed through her like water running through ruts on a surface. This was Marthera. The woman who practically raised Euffie for as far back as she could remember. There were memories as old as ten years ago, and it felt incredible to have them. When a slave rune has gripped its victim for long enough, the brain becomes unaccustomed to going back that far. It felt so good to stretch between her ears like that, like a leg waking up after the pins and needles sensations fades away.

  " – teach you nothing?" Marthera went on. "You should know better."

  "I'm sorry, Mother Marthera," Euffie recited, comfortable on familiar ground. "I won't do it again."

  Marthera smiled, and gave Euffie a squeeze. "And you even have a new sarcastic tone. I missed you."

  "Where are we going?"

  "To my home," Marthera explained. She resumed her stride with Euffie beside her. "After the orphanage failed, I moved to an orchard outside the city and got married. My husband passed away a few years ago, so now I live there alone."

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Euffie said.

  "Don't be. He was a pain in the ass. Good riddance if you ask me."

  Euffie couldn't help but smile. Good old Mother Marthera's familiar brusqueness was more than welcome in the memory space she was reclaiming. They passed by farmland full of half-sun crops, plants that didn't need constant sunlight to survive. They didn't grow as large, but they were better than nothing. Euffie was confident people were following them, but she didn't glance over her shoulder. She was used to being watched, and that experience meant not revealing that she knew she was being watched.

  Oppzis felt suspicious about something, and when she listened to it, Euffie couldn't help but catch it. She frowned.

  "If you live out in the countryside, how did you know when I arrived? Did you spot me out on the road and just … follow me?"

  Marthera shook her head. "No, I was already in town. I hadn't gone home yet, you see. I just happened to see you on my way out."

  "You recognized me with the scarf over my face?"

  "Yes," Marthera said firmly. "You have a very distinctive set of eyes, girl."

  They turned off the main road toward a homestead with a sad crop growing in not enough land beside it. It was one of the green crops that only grew in caskerwol, the kind of plant that couldn't withstand two suns and needed a night time to survive. Bales and stacks of baskerwol crops, the two-sun needing kind that were white as rushing water, lined the homestead in rotting heaps.

  Marthera gripped Euffie's shoulder tightly. "We're being followed. Get in the house, and do exactly as I say."

  Euffie nodded. "Yes, Mother Marthera."

  "Master Marthera," she corrected with a tap on the nose.

  ***

  "Yes, yes," Marthera said quickly, sitting Phoebe down at her table. "And it hasn't gotten any better since they got rid of you. I think the people after us have finally cobbled together enough reason to give me the engram. I missed rent here and there, you know how it is. Here they come, now."

  Euffie couldn't go back. Not so soon after returning to Aleb. They couldn't just get rid of her again. If Mother Marthera was taken, Euffie's rune would doom her.

  "What do we do?"

  "Just sit quietly and do as I say," Marthera replied. She strode to the door as if she'd gobbled up all of what little confidence remained in the room. Moments later, there came a knock at the door, the kind of knock that invites itself. Marthera put her fingers over her lips in Phoebe's direction, then turned to the door.

  "Come in," called Marthera.

  The knob turned. Three people stood outside the door, a woman flanked by two men. They all had swords at their hips, but they weren't dressed like soldiers. The men each had slave runes on their foreheads. Good ones. The kind that didn't need to be touched to inflict pain. The woman in front probably had one linked to theirs under her wrist or something.

  "Well, don't just stand there," Marthera said before they could speak. "I said come in."

  The visitors seemed happy to oblige. Euffie's nerves, on the other hand, were now firing for them. Didn't they feel uncomfortable at the invitation?

  "And no smoking in my house, Telda," said Marthera when the woman in front took out a cigarette. Telda put it in her mouth and lit it. After a drag, she pointed a finger at Euffie. The other two men stayed behind her, as if attached like wings.

  Only Euffie seemed to notice Mother Marthera closing the door, and locking it.

  "Miss Marthera," Telda said. "When did you buy this pretty thing?"

  Marthera folded her arms. "Not that it's any of your business, but I purchased her months ago. My useless nephew took his sweet time givin' her back."

  "Got your receipt?"

  Marthera scowled. "Got your warrant, Telda?"

  "I always do."

  "Well, so do I. Now get."

  Telda made a hand motion, and the two men stood over Euffie. She could feel herself changing hands in the conversation without being touched.

  "Your neighbors say you don't own any slaves, and haven't for years," Telda said patiently. "They don't own slaves, and they work in the fields. They'd see this one."

  "My neighbors," Marthera said, far less patiently, "are a bunch of idiots who can't tell a cat's head from its ass. And you can tell 'em I said that. They don't listen when I do."

  Why did she lock that door? Euffie squirmed. Any moment now, Telda would give another gesture, and those guards would take her arms and haul her out of here. If the door wasn't locked, she was sure she could have made a dash for it. Just a short one, so her legs didn't explode.

  "Idiots or not," Telda said, "there's more of them than there are of you. And a few of them are doing quite a bit better than you are on their mortgages. You know how that looks in court."

  "The court can stick it," Marthera said.

  "Correct," Telda said. She made another hand motion, and Euffie's prediction came true.

  "Hey!" she tugged at their grips on her arms. "Let go of me! See the rune? I'm hers. I work here. Fuck off!"

  Telda turned to face her, blocking Euffie's view off Marthera. Telda was a disconcerting mixture of cold and to the point, but when Euffie looked up at her, the cold gave way to the point.

  "That hag," Telda hissed, "does not own you, and now that you have also lied, there will be – "

  Telda was interrupted by a hand gripping her stomach from behind, and another yanking her head to one side. A middle-aged woman sunk teeth she didn't have a minute ago into the woman's neck. It was not a clean bite. Telda's scream turned choke, and the cigarette dropped from her lips. Euffie and the thugs stepped back. Telda was thrown to the ground with a crash, revealing what almost looked like Marthera.

  Almost, because Euffie didn't remember Marthera having yellow sclera and red irises.

  Before the other two soldiers could react, Marthera rushed one of them down, shoving Euffie aside. She moved inhumanly fast. Not nearly as fast as Euffie could, but still enough to blur at the edges. When Euffie turned from where she lay on the floor, one soldier was clutching his neck and gasping for air through a stream of blood, just like Telda. The other was being repeatedly struck in the kidneys. He pitched forward. Marthera bit into the back of his neck with a sickening crunch, and he collapsed to the ground. He was eerily still. Marthera spun back to the first man and closed her jaws on his neck. Blood continued escaping his body for a few moments, and then he was still.

  Marthera turned to Euffie, and gave a quizzical look.

  Euffie realized silvery magic was curling around her arms, and her fists were clenched. She relaxed and held them up defensively, but the magic took a few more seconds to fade away.

  "I'll ask you about that later," Marthera dismissed. She turned to Telda, who was scrabbling for her cigarette with the hand not trying to stop the blood leaking from her jugular. Unsuccessfully.

  "What … the fuck?" Telda said, squeezing the words through what was left of her neck. Euffie turned away before Marthera's dripping teeth finished Telda in the same place. Instead she fixated on the blood pooling beside her from the man with hardly a neck anymore. And on keeping her magic in check.

  Euffie heard panting, and suddenly became sharply aware that she was alone in a room with Mother Marthera.

  "Now look, Euffie," Marthera said, turning to face her with those horrible yellow and red eyes. She wiped her dripping mouth, forever ruining her already dirty sleeve. Her voice didn't change, despite how Euffie felt it ought. Like the runewrights' always did before doing something awful with her rune.

  Marthera wrung her hands. "If you need to scream, I don't blame ya. There's a pillow on my bed. Use that."

  Euffie raised a trembling finger. "Th-there's a – a knife in your, uh – "

  Marthera looked down and saw the weapon sticking out of her gut. She grimaced.

  "Oh, he got me. Thanks for lettin' me know. You, er, might wanna look away … "

  Euffie took the invitation gladly. This time she avoided the body beside her, and stared at the trembling hands in her lap. She heard a sticky pulling sound, then a stranger and stickier one. The familiar noise of a weapon clattering on the ground was a relief in comparison.

  "All better," Marthera said. "Here, let me help you up. We got some clean-up to do, and then I think you oughta get headed."

  Euffie saw a bloodstained hole in Marthera's clothes where the knife had stuck, but the wrinkled flesh beneath looked untouched by anything but age. Her sclera looked even yellower than before, like old paper. Her red-stained teeth, which Euffie could've sworn were longer and sharper moments before, now looked completely normal.

  "Oh … okay. Y-yes, Mother Marthera," she added, for safety.

  Marthera sighed, and closed her eyes. Without the yellow sclera visible, Phoebe saw through for a moment and realized it was still the same woman she'd known before. She was just a lot more dangerous than she'd let on, when she wanted to be.

  "Run along, Euffie," she was saying. "My pillow is still there for you to scream into. I need some privacy while I … take care of the bodies. And my face, of course."