The tent's interior surprised Sonder.
The walls were stretched tight, but they were clean except for the painted symbols inside, the same as on the outside.
The floor was covered in woven reed mats, and in the center there was a lit brazier that gave off a sweet herbal smoke rather than anything unpleasant she had expected.
It was strong enough to cover the natural stink of the swamp around them.
The tent was tidy; that was the takeaway, a contrast to the outside.
Behind a low carved table sat a reptile-man, unlike the guards that had spotted Sonder or the ones she had seen outside.
He was taller, and his posture was straight, more manlike than the others.
He wore a single golden shoulder guard that looked like one of the big birds that pulled their carts.
His scales were stormy blue instead of the greens and browns of the others.
By the looks of it, Sonder could only guess that he had more authority than the rest of them, being a sort of commander.
"So," he said, rolling the word, "a spy has come crawling right to us."
"Spy?" Sonder asked.
The commander showed his teeth. His tail coiled once behind him.
"You hide near our lines. You stalk our patrols. You come from a path that has been known to have Shemni activity." He leaned forward. "Do not insult me with denial, warm-blood."
"I'm not insulting you," Sonder said carefully. "I don't even know what Shemni is."
A sharp hiss cut the air. One of the guards shifted as if ready to strike her for the claim.
The captain raised a hand, and the guard froze.
Then he stared at Sonder even harder.
"Lies," he said flatly. "Every Shemmi rat claims ignorance when caught, but yours is so blatant I don't know whether to applaud you for your boldness or let you be struck down this instant."
"I don't know what a Shemmi is," Sonder said, frustration tugging at her calm. "Or… what you are, either, for that matter. I'm just an innocent traveler."
The captain's nostrils flared.
"You expect me to believe a lone warm-blood wanders into a siege by chance? That she creeps along our backs with no purpose? No contact? No mission?" He clicked his teeth. "Do you think the Chackara are fools?"
"Chackara?" Sonder repeated. "Are you them?"
He lifted his chin slightly, pride and anger both.
"Yes! We," he said, touching his chest with a clawed hand, "are the Chackara. The rightful hunters of this marsh. The scales that rule the reedlands. And those inside the walls," he jabbed a claw toward the direction of the city, "are the Shemmi. Kobolds. Burrowers. Thieves of soil."
Sonder frowned. "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of either of you."
The captain hissed again, this time more softly.
"You expect me to believe that? That you have not heard of the war that has burned these swamps for a generation?"
"I don't come from here," Sonder said.
It was the truth. Simple, plain, but to the captain, utterly unbelievable.
His gaze narrowed to slits.
"You claim innocence. But innocence does not skulk. Innocence does not spy. And innocence does not carry weapons. You carry at least two swords. What do you have to say to that?"
"These lands are not peaceful, even if you weren't here. A traveler has to protect themselves."
"You are no simple traveler."
Sonder stood very still.
She didn't want to fight these people.
But she could feel the tension in the room gathering like a pulled bowstring.
And she had no idea how she was going to convince them she wasn't the enemy of a war she hadn't even known existed.