Orion is as good as his word. Nyssa seems surprised by his sudden change of heart, but doesn't question it.
"You're not going to tell her?" Clarke asks him once quietly.
"And make her choose between me and her culture?" Orion raises an eyebrow. "I know what she would choose. She has chosen me before. But I will not force her to make that choice again. There is no reason to put her through that."
"What is the plan?" Gustus says lowly from behind them.
Orion doesn't look back, but it's obvious he's addressing Gustus. "We will leave you before we reach the village. Clarke will announce that your mission is vital and secret, and I will tell our hunters that in return for our assistance 'Ontari' told me that there is better hunting far to the west, where the Azplana and her gona will not be. We will avoid the town and go into the wilderness for at least a week so that none can talk of having seen you. That should buy you enough time, sha?"
"Sha," Clarke says. She feels a rush of gratitude. "When I get home, I'll tell the Commander about your people, I promise. If we can, we will get food to you. We'll get food to everyone. I know there's lot of extra food stored in Trikru and Trishanakru territory in preparation for winter."
"Then I hope the new Commander comes north before we all starve for the Azplana's pride," Orion says flatly.
Nyssa appears beside them, running through the snow swiftly and silently. "Jossan went to the north," she reports. "There is a gonakru searching. Perhaps for you?" she directs the question at Clarke.
"Perhaps," Orion says immediately, intercepting the question. "But I do not know that we should risk it."
Nyssa looks at him strangely. "Risk it? What risk?"
"The Azplana has enemies," he points out virtuously. "Who is to say it is her gonakru? It could be deserters or natrona. We know that we will defend Ontari and her prisoner with our lives. Who can say that they will do the same?"
"He is correct," Clarke says, trying to pull back up her façade of cold arrogance and failing. She's been pretending for so long that she's exhausted by it. Instead she lets her face fall into the emotion she actually feels, gratitude. "That's not a risk worth taking." She smiles at Nyssa when the other woman frowns. "Besides, your hunters are doing such a fine job, I don't think a dozen gonakru could do better."
Nyssa flushes with pride and inclines her head. "Mochof," she says softly but with great feeling.
"You don't owe me any thanks," Clarke says honestly. "I should be saying that to you. You've kept us safe and fed." She expands her smile to include Orion. "And your houmon is very selfless to keep guiding us even when he could get rid of us easily."
"It is my duty," Orion says smoothly. But for a second he glances at Nyssa and his expression reveals his guilt and worry. He might talk about wanting to keep her protected, but Clarke's sure a part of him wants to tell her the whole truth. She wishes she wasn't introducing future strife into their relationship with her actions, but it can't be helped. This might lead to discord between them but it also means she and Gustus won't have to try and kill these hunters or enact some other desperate plan.
They reach the village by nightfall.
"Here," Orion says quietly, passing his quiver to her as they part. "Take this. There are perhaps twenty arrows inside it, and a couple of spare bowstrings since the one you are using now is far too old and loose. There is no point in having a bow without arrows."
"Now you've got a bow without arrows," Clarke points out.
"I will be fine," he assures her, glancing back at Nyssa. "My houmon will share her arrows with me." There's a momentary pause and then he reaches out, takes her hand, and squeezes it hard. "I wish you luck," he says.
"I'll need it," Clarke says wryly. The other hunters start to gather around her and she raises her voice so they can all hear, and gives the speech Orion told her to give, embroidered with gratitude and praise, but still essentially the same. That this is a secret, that they are to tell no one, that there is better hunting to the west, that she will ensure the Azplana knows of their service. They disappear into the growing darkness and then it is just her and Gustus. The last she sees of them is Orion, natrona to his people and his partner but loyal servant to the Commander, raising his hand in a lonely farewell. She hopes he survives.
"Okay," Clarke says quietly to Gustus, removing the chains from his wrists. "Just us now."
He looks her in the eyes. "You were amazing," he says, softly but fiercely. "You saved both our lives."
"And now you have to keep them saved," Clarke says with an uneven little smile. She's a little flushed from the praise. "I'm guessing we should wait until dark before finding this guy. Do you know where he lives?"
"Not at all," Gustus says calmly. "But it should not be a problem to find out."
"Gus, they're looking for us," Clarke points out. The shortened name just rolls off her tongue, she doesn't think it through before she says it, but he doesn't react negatively so she decides it's probably okay.
"Ogud," Gustus says, face twisting into a worrying smile. "One at least will find us."
Clarke shakes her head. "Listen, I don't know if we should -"
"Clarke," he says firmly, looking her in the eye. "This is the only way I know of to find who we seek. We cannot search throughout the village for him, we must know exactly where to go. This is the way with the least risk. Do you have any objections besides your scruples?"
There's a very long pause. Clarke clears her throat, trying to remove the sudden lump from it. She let most of the Maunon die in this world, and she doesn't regret it, but every single one of the people executed had committed crimes, had let Grounders die so they could live. She manipulated Nia to send her gona south to what she was pretty sure was an ambush or trap of some kind, but they chose to march against the alliance. She caused men and women in Nia's castle to die but they were part of a plan to get a nuclear missile and attack her and Lexa's people. All of those things seem very different to what she knows Gustus is talking about here – abducting a person at random, just because they stray towards the edge of the village alone, and torturing them just to find out a man's address. Then disposing of them afterwards. There's a very real chance whoever he finds will be an innocent civilian.
But what's the alternative? If they stay out here for long, then a scout or hunter will find them. Once the sun comes up, they will have nowhere to hide at all. They can't wander through the village and hope they run into the spy and he invites them to his house to lay low – they're both obviously wounded runaways, and Nia probably has the whole place on high alert.
"I don't want to kill an innocent person," she says eventually, and feels ashamed of the uncertainty in her voice.
Gustus inclines his head. "And I am not asking you to. Wait here." And then he disappears as if she's given him an answer.
She thinks that maybe she did.
Clarke curls into the trunk of a nearby tree – it's hollowed out a little, and as good a place to wait as any. She runs her fingers over the carvings on Costia's bow again and again, like there's a secret story that her precursor might have whittled into it. But instead there's only vines and flowers and plants twining around and around it, beautifully detailed and heartbreakingly incomplete. Clarke's not sure anyone but another artist would notice, but the bow was definitely done by someone who thought they had years to make the top half just as perfect as the bottom. Veins are missing from leaves there and the flowers aren't as intricately perfect as they should be. Someday when she dies, will Clarke also leave drawings unfinished?
The top is interesting for another reason, though – it's not just pointed like the bottom is, but has actually been sharpened to the point where Clarke thinks you could probably stab someone with it. Costia must have done that in case someone came too close for arrows to be effective. If the gona who attacked her back when they first found out Nia had allied with the Maunon had been as clever, he would have gutted Clarke instead of just winding her and giving her a bruised stomach. She detaches the current string and realises that Orion was right, it's far too loose to have been able to fire an arrow. She's actually not sure if you're supposed to leave bows permanently strung though so she doesn't put on another one. Odds are she'd just accidentally cut her hand open while trying to navigate the sharpened tip, anyway.
No screams split the night air, but when Gustus appears in front of her again some time later he is dispassionately wiping his bloody hands against his coat.
"Is the body -" Clarke starts to say, then stops. She trusts Gustus, or at least trusts his professionalism – she knows that he won't have left any evidence behind, that the body will be hidden or disguised somehow. And she doesn't want to know anything more than that. She doesn't want to know what he did. "Never mind. Did you find where he is?"
"North side of the village," Gustus says. "If we go to the back of his house, we should be able to avoid being seen."
Clarke follows him a little numbly. Since they ran into Orion and his group, she's been taking the lead and handling everything. Gustus has just been pulled along, a pretend prisoner, all his responsibilities and agency stripped from him and given to her. She took on everything, and she finds that now she's tired mentally as much as she is physically. Her healing ankle aches and her mind feels soupy and strange. So she lets him take the lead now, pulling her down tiny village streets to hide in dark corners, leading her through shadowy alleys and into the crooks of trees, and eventually to an unlit door that he raps on harshly.
The man who opens it is middle-aged but muscular, a little hunched, with narrowed thoughtful eyes and very long blonde hair. Clarke only gets a glimpse of him though before he registers Gustus's face and tries to slam the door again. Gustus forces it open, dragging Clarke in after him. "Greetings, Assan," he says, one side of his mouth curling up into a smirk. "We seek sanctuary."
"The Commander is dead," Assan growls, face flushing. Clarke notices that the Azgeda scars on his cheek are shallow and small compared with most, as if he's been carefully nicked with a razor instead of slashed with a sword. "I have risked more than enough to help her. And it was all for nothing, now she is gone, and all of you are natrona -"
Gustus growls in return. "Say that again," he invites lowly. "I dare you."
Assan takes several steps backwards, and clears his throat, becoming more cordial. "I mean no offence to the former Commander, none at all, and none to you as well. But you must see -"
"I see that you have more than enough space for us," Gustus raps out. "I see that you will hide us here, or when we are captured yours will be the first name I list -"
"Threaten me with what you like," Assan says, face flushing further, anger growing. "My loyalty -"
"Your loyalty should be to the woman you owe so much to," Gustus says softly. "And now to her chosen successor. But I tell you something, Assan – if you feel your loyalty to the Azgeda to be all-important in these times of war, more important than your vows to the Commander, then I can respect that." He smiles, but there is nothing friendly in it. "So yours will be the second name I list. How is your daughter? Does she still live in the village? She must be proud her nontu has such principles."
"Hey," Clarke says, finding her voice again. "Enough, Gustus." She turns to look at Assan. "We're not here to hurt you or anyone," she says clearly. "All you need to do is hide us for a few days, so we can sleep in the warmth, heal, and build up our strength. And in return we'll leave, we'll never mention you to anyone, you'll be safe, your daughter will be safe. I promise, Assan. Just a few days."
Assan meets her eyes, then finally nods slowly. "Sha," he says, voice harsh. "A few days."