But as he walked back to the gate, his step faltered. Hunt Lord take them all, Selene. Standing right there by the gate, staring right at him. He swallowed hard and approached her, a small voice in the back of his mind chanting, Get out of here, get out of here, get out of here, getoutofherenow!

"Excuse me, Sergeant," she asked, voice hesitant. "Would you happen to be of the Seventh Guard? I'd heard that they were passing through, but I'm never sure if Dorell will be coming home for an evening or not."

He could feel the words welling up within him, stumbling over the two glasses of brandy he'd consumed in the past half hour before finally making it onto his tongue, where they waited to leap out and pounce. A lie? Or the truth? Which would hurt her less… And him, too.

"Ejnar! You'd best not be lying to my wife about me!"

The world collapsed around him in half an eye blink, to be built back up in the next half. Dorell, a bit worn looking but nothing worse than a battle might explain, stood at the gates. Selene beamed at him, beautiful, radiant, and kissed him.

"Are you coming home for supper?"

"No." She looked disappointed, which Dorell quickly covered with another kiss. "Ejnar's covering for me. I'm supposed to be looking for him, see? Just wanted to see you, dear."

"Come back soon."

"I will."

The Seventh guard stared at Dorell, then quickly adapted to the fact with nothing more than a few words from Ejnar. "He's back. Deal with it." And they would.

"Nice spear," the Sergeant Major noted glibly.

Dorell grinned. "Course. The Chirrum was too busy keeping mine warm, so I thought I might as well take his." He stared at the fire and took a swig of brandy. "It isn't fun being a bond-slave, Ejnar. But it isn't impossible to escape."

Not if you have something to escape for, Ejnar thought. But he wouldn't say that. Maybe even a child from the back-alleys of Tal Eilum had something to escape for, be it love or friendship, or even the Seventh Guard.

Maybe that was all anyone needed.