The caravan rolled onward, toward Logren, in silence. After the eight deaths—the three scouts and the five sacrifices—no one had much to talk about. When they reached Logren, they would need to find some relief, some rest. Some fun. It seemed like such a bizarre, unworldly thought, to Vaenuth. She lived in a kill or be killed world, and fun wasn’t a luxury she could afford. Because she was not the blasted Eternal Emperor.
Banno wouldn’t leave her alone. “You have to eat something, Vae,” he would say. She had eaten almost nothing for days. She ignored his pleas.
As sudden as that first bloody demand had been, so too did the second one arrive. It was the religious hunter, Orsot. Or rather, it was just his head, lying in the sand, with a cactus page next to it. Blood was splattered all around, lowering the sand like it had melted.
“Gods, not again,” Banno said, once they had all gotten over their initial shock.
No one said anything else, for at least a whole minute.
At last, Tagg broke the silence. “What does the note say this time? Another five? We’ll be but three men to count when we reach our destination.”
Vaenuth walked forward, careful not to step on the blood. She bent down, her sandy robe scratching her arms. They had left Reu and the others four days ago. When she held the new demand up to read it, she froze. She couldn’t look up at Banno and the others. The cactus was as rough as a piece of wood, with little holes where the thorns had been torn out. Now it read: “Give. White. One.”
“What does it say?” Hulean asked, standing on his feet at the bench of a wagon.
She had asked her employees, her friends, her family, to stay and die in the stead of the group. There could be no argument now. She decided that there was no choice. “They want me. Just me.”
“No!” Banno said, stepping across the sand.
Vaenuth pulled out her knife. If she just got it over with, they’d have no choice. The world had finally caught her in its snares.
Banno caught her first, knocking away her blade, and gripping her shoulders. “We’re lost without you,” he said. “You unite us, and drive us. Out here, we’re not a business, not like we are in the forests. Out here, we’re a pack of animals fighting to survive, and you’re our leader.”
“We’ll fight to survive with you,” Tagg said.
“No,” Vaenuth said. “How many will die? We don’t know our enemy, their size, their strength.”
“And when they take you? Who will help us survive their next demand?” Hulean said. “I’ve less experience with the Slithers than any of you, but I say we face them. They’ve no right to demand our lives, one by one until there are none left.”
Vaenuth trembled. “I won’t take that. I can’t be responsible for that.”
“Of course not,” Banno said, and picked up her knife for her. “Only they are. Only the Slithers.”
Vaenuth took her knife in one hand, ready to kill something. She had never considered herself to be a very violent person. Right now, though, she wanted to stab something. How dare they take eight of her friends, let alone continue to threaten the caravan? Banno was right. It was a cause worth dying for.
“We keep going,” Vaenuth declared, loud enough for all of her group to hear. “Toward Logren. If the Slithers want to attack us, we’ll fight them off. We’ll give them a taste of southern justice.”
When they set off, on their way once more, Vaenuth asked for a loaf of bread. She ate the whole thing, as well as some rabbit they had caught, seasoned with spices from the first Slither tribe. The friendly one. There were a few hours of daylight left, even in the desert. Who knew what the dark would bring?