She had trouble getting to sleep that night. Even though she didn’t have to worry about the trackers anymore, their macabre presence still troubled her, as did the cause of their deaths. To avoid thinking about her misgivings and worries, she did what she always did when stressed: she sorted out the details. She had spent the hours before nightfall discussing plans and working out payment with Mattias and, once he had left into the still-dripping twilight, with Stan. 

Owen had retreated to the back wall and pulled out his panpipes. Although the melody he played was soothing, she found herself wishing that he would involve himself more in the proceedings. She thought she understood why he didn’t, but he had been present enough to offer the rumor idea, so she had hoped that he would continue to help. 

When she had sat down beside him and brought up the topic of a cover story, however, he had been perfectly amenable, if a little quiet. They decided to be cousins traveling upriver to help Kaz’s brother with an illness. It was a time-sensitive, but simple cure, and Orlando was busy, so he sent Owen, his apprentice, instead. It was an easy enough story, and had the benefit of casting her as the worried sister, so she would have an excuse to be emotional. 

“I think our story should be good enough that people won’t guess who I am, even with the rumors,” she had said. 

“That’s wise,” Owen had replied, sounding as steady and calm as usual. “After all, even if most people will want to help you, you won’t know who the exceptions are until after you’ve met them. It’s best that you reveal your identity after you know where they stand.”

She had agreed with him. Now, lying awake, she wondered how often she would find herself revealing her identity. The rumor and announcement at least had the benefit of saving her from telling the whole story every time. 

She realized she had been incredibly lucky so far. Everyone she had trusted had come through. She had hardly chosen to trust the messengers. And that could have gone terribly wrong. Maybe it was best if she and Owen kept their secret to themselves. Then again, meeting the messengers had turned out to be a stroke of luck, so maybe she would reveal herself sometimes. She would just have to judge each person individually, she thought sleepily.

These thoughts roiled through her head until, exhausted, she finally slept. It felt like mere moments before she was roused by Stan, who had agreed to wake them at first light. 

Kaz moaned. “Tell me again why I asked you to wake me this early?”

“Because if you leave soon then you can easily make it to Alkantay before nightfall.”

Kaz’s brain reluctantly engaged, but her body complained loudly. “Thanks, Stan,” she mumbled. 

“No problem,” he said. “When you’re coherent, there’s breakfast by the hearth.” 

Kaz flopped onto her back, staring at the thatched ceiling out of first one eye, then the other. 

“Come on, Kaz,” she muttered to herself. “You know how to do this. Just swing your legs over the side of the bed. Pretend you’re awake long enough, and you might actually believe it.”

A low chuckle came from below her. Owen had claimed the lower bunk by the entirely reasonable claim that ladders, while technically possible, were challenging for him. And besides, if he was in the top bunk, Devlin would whine all night. So, although after her adventure with the hay-covered rooftop she wouldn’t have minded never having to climb another ladder, she had graciously agreed. 

Now she eyed the ladder. To her sleep-fogged brain, it looked complicated. 

“You know,” said Owen, sounding a lot more awake than she felt. “It’s probably a good idea to actually be awake before you climb down. It’ll sort of defeat our purposes if you fall and break your neck before we achieve our brilliant escape.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you up and about yet,” she said, noting that her ratio of snark to repartee wasn’t really up to her usual standards.

“No, but at least I’m prepared to be,” said Owen. “Watch.” And, peering over the bed’s frame, Kaz watched Owen stand, collect Devlin’s leash, and start towards the fire, where once again a most agreeable fragrance was wafting towards her. After a few steps, Owen turned, his arms held out to his sides. 

“Well, are you coming?”

Kaz was about to grouse back when she realized that her annoyance had roused her more effectively than a gentler tactic. Grinning despite herself, she scuttled down the ladder and went to join Owen and Stan. 

“How did you know that would work?” she asked Owen in an undertone, sitting beside him on the cushion-strewn floor. 

“I have a younger sister, remember?” said Owen. “She’s not much good in the morning either.”

Kaz rolled her eyes, then, remembering that Owen couldn’t see her, gently shoved his shoulder. Owen smiled slightly, but simply continued eating, offering Devlin a piece of his fried egg. Kaz tasted her own food and smiled in pleasure at the savory spices with just a hint of heat. Clearly Stan was the mastermind responsible for last night’s soup. 

Kaz ate quickly, speaking little, and felt much more awake by the time she finished the toast. Owen lingered, chatting amicably with Stan about cooking and Devlin’s diet. At first Kaz chalked it down to Owen being a slow eater, but by the time she had cleaned her teeth and packed her bag, she had barrelled through her patience quotient and had raced straight through into full irritation. 

“Owen,” she said finally, interrupting his flow. “I hate to rush you, but we need to leave soon if we want to get to Alkantay today.” 

“Oh,” said Owen, raising his head. “Right. I’ll be done in a moment.” 

And he carried on his conversation as though she had not spoken. She watched him take another bite and chew slowly, nodding at whatever Stan was saying. He only had two or three bites left on his plate, but at this rate it would take all morning for him to make his way through them. 

She tried giving Stan a pointed look, but he only shrugged apologetically and kept talking to Owen about his father’s work. Kaz reflected sourly that, for a man who had been so terrified of Owen the night before, Stan was certainly friendly enough with him this morning. 

After watching two more excruciating mouthfuls, Kaz couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“Owen,” she said again, trying not to let her irritation be too apparent. “Would you like me to pack your bag for you?”

Owen clearly picked up on her tone anyway. He shoveled the last bite into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. 

“Sorry Kaz,” he said. “No need. I can do it myself.” 

Kaz restrained herself from saying, “Yes, but how long will it take?” but it was a near thing. She contented herself by saying, “Great, thanks.” instead. 

To her surprise, it didn’t take Owen long at all to pack. She watched in fascination at how quickly his deft hands identified, sorted, and placed various objects in his bag. Stan gave them both small packets with food for lunch. Before Kaz’s irritation had fully cooled, she and Owen had set out into the crisp, chilly morning. 

The day was marvellous, clear and clean after the rain. The air smelled fresh and green. Droplets glittered on trees and spiderwebs, the morning sun teasing rainbows from them like tiny diamonds. 

She could see Mattias’s footprints in the mud that still coated the trail. Owen slipped a little at first, but seemed to adjust well to the change in terrain. Devlin panted along happily ahead of him, nose to the ground. Kaz was struck by how attuned the dog was to Owen’s movements. He only lifted his leg against a tree or rock when Owen paused for breath or a drink, and he naturally sped up or slowed down as Owen found his rhythm or began to tire. Kaz tried to think if she’d ever seen two beings as in sync with one another. If so, she couldn’t recall.  

By the time they stopped for lunch, Kaz’s irritation had cooled completely. They were making good time and the bright sunlight had lifted her spirits. She chose a slight dip between folds in the mountain, where a trickle of water tumbled from stone to stone. Several large boulders dotted the mountainside as though strewn there by a negligent giant. 

“Hey Owen,” she said, after directing him to one of the boulders. He turned his head towards her in a gesture she was beginning to recognize as his listening look. “I’m sorry I was impatient this morning,” she said. Part of her squirmed; she had been taught that a princess never apologizes, but her friends in the city had taught her differently. It still didn’t make it easy, though. 

“I guess,” she continued. “Well, I guess I’m used to people doing what I say. And I was always taught that efficiency was a virtue.” 

To her surprise, Owen was smiling. “Thanks, Kaz,” he said. “You were impatient.”

Defensiveness rose inside her, until Owen added, “But I deserved it. There’s no need for haste in my village or my family - except occasionally when a patient needs immediate attention. I was trying not to think about what happened last night, and I let myself fall into my usual rhythms and forgot the urgency of our situation. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better going forward.”

Wow, thought Kaz. Now that’s an apology. 

“Thanks Owen,” she said. “I’ll try to be more patient, too.” She felt a little petty, like she had added this so as to not be out-apologized, but Owen didn’t seem to notice. 

“That’s all either of us can ask, I think,” he said. “Since we’re stuck doing this together, we may as well try to find the best way to get along.”

And with that, still smiling slightly, he began digging in his pack for lunch. Some part of Kaz wanted to stay annoyed at Owen. For being slow. For being better at apologizing than she was. For being so damn reasonable and likeable. When she found that she simply couldn’t maintain the momentum of her irritation she almost burst out laughing. Well, there was a first. And, also grinning, she pulled out her own lunch and began to eat. 

Owen was a slow eater, it turned out, but a lot faster when he wasn’t carrying on a conversation. He seemed to have taken his pledge to do better to heart, and limited himself to brief, though friendly, observations and exchanges. So it was with a sense of purpose and satisfaction that Kaz repacked her few leftovers and they set out for Alkantay. 

The rest of the journey was largely uneventful. Besides a larger-than-usual patch of mud that caused Owen to slide down half a switchback and a narrowly-avoided hornet’s nest, the afternoon went as smoothly as the morning. 

To Kaz, who enjoyed talking when she shared a trail with someone, she found Owen’s silence strange. But she understood that this rough terrain was challenging for him and was impressed enough with his progress to speak only to warn him of an overhanging branch or precarious stream crossing. 

It was early evening when they slogged up a shallow crest and looked down on the sprawling city of Alkantay. It spread below them, a mass of grey and gold in the green bowl of the valley. She could just make out the spiky layout of the streets and the tawny color of the thatched rooftops. The temples rose up larger and grander than ordinary buildings, clustered towards the center of the city. She knew that there would be one for each of the elements. There was a large space to one side of the temples, with trees and the hints of bright color. Was that a marketplace? The lowering sun tinged the whole thing with a warm glow. 

Kaz sighed. They were almost there. 

Next Chapter: 28: Owen - The Boat