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information.
    “Family business,” said Volos. Again, a not-quite lie. He never said the business involved his family.
    “Maybe you’re coming to find a Kozari wife,” said the other woman, who was curvy and dark. She leaned against the redhead so completely as to be almost in her lap. “The Wedey women are very beautiful, but they’re strange. Close-mouthed. And they have terrible fashion sense.” She smoothed a hand over her brightly patterned tunic.
    Volos was making an effort to be polite. “I’m not looking for a wife.”
    The redhead cocked her head at him. “A husband, then? We used to be short on young men due to the war, but not so much anymore. Besides, I suppose Wedeyta had the same problem.”
    He did not want to talk about the war. “I’m coming to search for some lost property. And maybe to see some old acquaintances.”
    For the first time, the man chimed in. “You should consider staying. The prospects in Kozar are better and the cost of living is lower. What do you do for a living?”
    Protect my people from Kozari. No, probably not the right answer. Would his fellow passengers be so friendly if they knew his bag hid a sword? Volos attempted a smile and thought quickly of a profession that sounded boring yet plausible for a man built like him. “I work in a quarry. I began as a laborer but now I supervise others.”
    “We have quarries in Kozar. We produce some of the best marble in the world.”
    “Maybe I’ll take a look.” And then inspiration struck. “Hey. Since it’s been so long since I visited, maybe you folks could recommend some sites to see. What should I see?”
    As he’d hoped, that turned the conversation away from him. The others were eager to tell him about stunning scenery, educational historic sites, and all the best places to eat and shop. He pretended to listen eagerly, as if he really were a tourist, but he was relieved when the swaying carriage made the redhead ill and everyone else sleepy, and the conversation faded away. Volos leaned his head against the carriage wall and watched as they ascended the mountain.
    ****
    Kozar’s weather was wetter than Wedeyta’s, the fields still green even in late autumn. But the winters were harsher. Volos remembered marching down snow-dusted roads, watching his breath form dragon plumes in the morning air. And shivering, naked in a cell, body curled into a fetal ball, wishing the cold would at least dull some of the pain. Sometimes even in the sweltering height of summer, he’d wake up from dreams where he was still in that cell, and he would step outside into the searing morning sun just to remind himself where he was.
    Now, though, as he walked over rolling emerald-colored hills under an ash-gray sky, he was only a little chilly. He’d been traveling in Kozar for three days— more jostling carriages full of curious locals— but he wasn’t yet used to this place. He was constantly unsettled. The soft consonants and liquid vowels reminded him of family and childhood, but the landscape brought memories of blood and fear.
    Shortly after his arrival, he’d bought local attire: loose red trousers that cinched at the waist with a black fabric belt, a billowy white shirt with brightly embroidered animal motifs, a thick black cloak with embroidery along the edges. He’d felt ridiculous when he’d first put on his new outfit, although he had faint recollections of his parents dressing him in something similar when he was very young. Back then, he’d been proud of the thread-work dragons and phoenixes that danced across his shirt— so much more interesting than his friends’ plain, dun-colored tunics.
    No public carriages served the little village where the queen claimed Berhanu was being held, so Volos had spent the past day on foot, his sword still tucked into his bag. Aside from the slowness of his journey, he didn’t especially mind. He didn’t have to converse with anyone; the inhabitants of a few tiny hamlets and