Chapter 25 · The Kid in the Wagon

Alto's blood went cold.

Commander Arlen.

The kid's voice came from the third wagon in the northbound convoy, high and cracked like he'd been screaming. Alto knew that voice. He knew it the way he knew his own knife grip, the way scar tissue remembers the blade.

Nemi.

Lieutenant Venn's runner. Eight years old when Arlen died. Should be fourteen now if he'd made it out of that valley alive.

Alto pushed off the arena post and started walking. His ribs still ached from the Kael fight but he didn't slow down. The convoy was already rolling, six wagons and a dozen guards, heading for the north gate before dawn broke full. Shana's people were loading the last of the pit gear into wagon five. Nobody looked his way.

Good.

He kept his head down and his hands loose. The sand under his feet whispered names he didn't want to hear. Dead voices, all of them. Ashmar gift or Ashmar curse, it didn't matter right now. What mattered was the kid.

If Nemi was in that wagon, someone knew. Someone had to know.