“You cannot have her!” Reka shouted as he barred the door to the bedroom.

“By the gods, if you don't move from that door, I will move you!” Aedon shouted in reply.

The look on his face reminded Reka of a rabid dog. He was afraid that, if Aedon carried out his threat, he would have to kill him to stop him. He doubted very much that killing her father would endear him to Mika, so he tried reason once more.

“Aedon, please. You do not understand. She needs her rest! If you put her to work in this state, it could well kill her. Her constitution is very fragile right now.”

When Mika had finished her cake the night before, she collapsed into unconsciousness at the table. Aedon helped Reka move her to the bedroom, but as soon as she was comfortably ensconced in the covers, he slunk back to the sitting room and started drinking. When Reka was finished seeing to Mika, he returned and found Aedon muttering into his mug.

“Not her, too...not her too.”

The drink had taken its hold, and it took some time to convince the man that his daughter was in little danger and that she just needed rest. When the notion that Mika was safe finally seemed to set in, Aedon began to mumble drunkenly again.

“But what about the farm, who's going to help with the farm. I can't lose it now Seline, we've put so much work into it, it's all I have left.”

Reka spent much of the night trying to coax information from the drunken man, while simultaneously trying to console him. He was not doing a good job with the latter, though. That was more Alexis' area than his. Briefly, he wondered how she was getting along in the north. Frustrated, he gave up on comforting and focused on the information. Perhaps Aedon would be too drunk to remember any of this in the morning.

He did not manage to learn anything of real importance, however. No matter how drunk he got, Aedon deftly dodged any questions about his past. The only information of any relevance was the why of his land troubles. It seemed that he had been unable to meet the annual bounty for some time. The local law stated that any holder unable to meet the yearly grain tax, cleverly called the bounty, for five consecutive seasons was subject to forfeiture of his land. The bounty was determined by the size of the holding, and the corrupt magistrate had not adjusted the size of Aedon's to reflect the flooding of half of it. He had just this season and the next to make up the arrears. He could understand why it was so important that he has his daughter's help. An idea formed, and he laughed.

The laughter was so incongruous to the situation that Aedon lowered the scythe he was wielding.

“Something funny?” He asked.

“Not so much funny as ironic,” Reka said. “This will teach me that there is never such a thing as useless information. The solution to our mutual problem is standing before you; I will help with the harvest.”

Aedon appeared taken aback at this statement, but he also appeared to be willing to hold onto his foul temper. Come to think of it, that seemed his favorite past time.

“What do you know of farming, Master Droia?” Aedon said, placing extra sneering emphasis on the title. “I believe such work is beneath one, such as you.”

Reka sighed. The man seemed to be spoiling for a fight, and he resolved not to give it to him.

“You must tell me where you learned that, but you would be hard put to find something of which I have absolutely no knowledge, you odious man.”

Well, he thought, he would give him a little fight. It just wasn't in him to be talked down to, and he had endured far more from this man than he had from any other in a long while.

“No work of value should be beneath any man. I say that I can and, more importantly, will help you. Let the child be, and you will not have cause for disappointment. Persist in this foolishness, and there will be disappointment to spare.”

Aedon wilted a little. He seemed to realize the pitiful weapon in his hand was about as useful as a spyglass to a blind man. He turned on his heels and stalked away. Reka hoped his mood would improve as he followed the idiot out of the house. He would hate to burn him to ash out of pure annoyance.

He soon discovered that his hopes were misplaced because they were once again working near the swamp. Reka had never met another human being capable of projecting such loathing and menace without the use of speech. They worked in uneasy silence, and in much less time than he would have thought possible had the field cut. They were in the process of separating the ears and bailing the stalks when Aedon called a halt for lunch. They were the first words that had been spoken all day, and the sound echoed through the field. Gods, he even made the lunch call sound like an insult. They sat together on a finished bail and ate in the same uncomfortable silence.

The day wore on. The sun sat low on the edge of the horizon when Reka paused to rub his back. Gods, how long since it had hurt like that. Too many years playing the magi and not enough playing the worker, he thought. He picked up the long pole he was using to lever a bale into place when he heard a familiar noise. In his experience, it was rarely a good one. He looked up to see a dust cloud trailing a small host of mounted men. He looked to Aedon and saw that he, too, had noticed the riders. Without a word, he took a stone from his pouch and became the fat old man once more.

As they came closer, he saw that there were seven riders. The leader was astride a large white mare with small brown patches dappling its shining coat. He was dressed in chain armor and wore a blue and yellow doublet snugly over it. The blue and yellow were arranged in alternating quarters across the front, and in the center was a small shield emblem bearing a coat of arms in the manner of a large green field overlaid with a crossed scythe and wheat stalk. The doublet was a mark of the man's office, not an indication of knighthood, but he wore it as proudly as any knight might. His features were that of a beautiful man in his prime. He was not overly tall, but also could not be considered short. His body was well-muscled without being grotesque, and his face was smooth with a healthy glow about it. He had medium length wavy brown hair that complimented his hazel eyes and perfectly proportioned nose. The only thing that marred his beauty was the superior and smug look he adopted as he approached Reka and Aedon.

When he came within speaking distance, the leader reared his horse and made a fanning gesture to the men following him. The riders circled the two farmers and formed a loose ring around them. At another signal, they produced small crossbows and rested them on their pommels.

Reka glanced at Aedon, who had not made any motion, save a slight tightening of his eyes, at the approach of the mounted man. Taking his cue from him, he leaned comfortably on his pole, allowing Aedon to take the lead in the proceedings. When he did so, it was with his usual diplomatic aplomb.

“What do you want this time, Alec? I haven't got time to do your little dance today, so take your toadies and be off my land.”

The man on horseback, apparently Alec, produced a wicked smile and let his gaze wander over the field before him.

“It is only your land for a little while longer, thief. I seem to recall you owing me a substantial sum of money. I'm afraid you won't be able to manage it all by the end of next season, and I have half a mind to just seize this land now and be done with the matter.”

His words were calculated to enrage the unbalanced Aedon, but before he could get his ire up, Reka placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and stepped forward to address Alec.

“Please kind lord, if you do that, then I shall have no means of fending off the coming winter. This gracious man has offered me room and board should I help with the harvest. It is a bargain that he will hardly be able to keep if you take his land.”

Reka said this with such miserable diffidence that for a moment, Alec was silent. To cover his moment of hesitation, Alec adopted a ferocious look and hurled his words at the pitiful man.

“I do not care one wit for the plight of a man such as you. I must notify you that vagabonds are treated harshly in this realm. Aedon is well aware of this and is culpable for any mischief you get up to. So I would watch to whom you speak in the future nave.”

Reka gave a heavy sigh. He had seen the likes of this man a hundred times. Small town people who were given authority over their peers and used it to run amok over them. There was something a little off about this encounter, though. It seemed to be personal. Aedon had been prepared for violence at the threat of losing his land, but hardly flinched when Alec called him a thief. This confused Reka, but right now, the man on horseback infuriated him more than Aedon confused him, so Reka gave his attention to him.

“As you say,” he quipped. “I am no vagabond, though, and I must notify you that until the fifth season has passed, you have no legal standing to take this man's land.” Gone was the diffident tone, and although the gesture was not as grand as it could have been if he were himself, Reka stood at his full height while delivering the words. “If you persist in this unlawful persecution, I will be forced to defend this man and his land from your actions, as prescribed by law.”

Alec straightened at his pronouncement, and Reka knew he was reevaluating the situation. He could see the thoughts forming; he had just been defied in front of his men. There were no options for him now, lest he lose the respect of his men. Reka tried to save the situation.

“I really wouldn't,” he said imploringly.

“It is seven to two old man,” Alec responded breathlessly. “As the sailors say, I have the wind, and your sails are empty. Give over, you are bested.”

Reka was not sure who would begin the hostilities, but he was absolutely sure who would be the pincushion when it was over. He drew a piece of jade from his pouch and palmed it. He loathed the idea of using such a powerful stone, but better to lose a few days effort, than a lifetime of existence. He saw the decision to act in Alec's eyes and watched as he raised his hand to give the order. Aedon chose that moment to end his inactivity. With all of the crossbows trained on Reka, he took the opening and landed a savage blow on one of the riders. His long wooden pole snapped as it cracked against the man's skull, and he fell to the ground, a senseless heap. Reka crushed the jade, and the whole world slowed. He watched as each of the remaining riders released their bolts, the actions coming painfully slow to his eyes. Then he defeated the attack as effortlessly as sitting to dinner.

He deflected the first bolt with his makeshift staff, sending it flying harmlessly into the field. The second and third, he let fly by as he stepped to one side. He made the fourth stick firmly into his pole, then, just for a bit of flair, snatched the last out of the air with his other hand.

He spoiled the effect only slightly by wobbling a little as the world came rushing back to full speed. Three days of hard work, he thought bitterly, for those few seconds. He was tempted to incinerate the whole lot of them. He had actually reached for the stone in his smallest pouch before realizing what he was doing and snatching his hand back.

The men looked back at him in total shock. Even Aedon, who knew what he was, stood there gaping. So stunned were they that not one of them tried to reload. Alec's face was ashen white. He gave a hoarse shout then rode quickly away. The remaining men rode pell-mell after him, leaving the last to lead his horse away in a staggering gait.

“By all the gods, I don't think he'll try that again in a hurry,” Aedon shouted while pumping his fists energetically.

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Reka said, his tone now pensive. “That was not a man doing his duty. He was enjoying himself. There is a history there, I think.”

When Aedon did not meet his gaze, his suspicions were confirmed, and he asked, “Why did he call you a thief?”

Aedon did not meet Reka's eyes for some time. Finally, he looked at his new ally and answered the man's question.

“He blames me for stealing his wife from him,” he said in a rush.

“And did you?” asked Reka.

“Not exactly,” was his response, and when Reka did not break the ensuing silence, he continued.

“Seline and I were set to be married, and I had already paid the bride price to her father. But when he was killed, and I was discharged, her mother decided I was a disgrace and broke the arrangement.”

Again Reka remained silent, and Aedon seemed to realize he was not going to get away with half a story.

“She offered Seline to Alec, whose father at the time was magistrate. Their family was rich and powerful, and Alec was slated to succeed his father upon his retirement. Seline's mother had always favored him over me, and when she saw the opportunity to disavow our engagement, she did.”

This time Reka did speak when Aedon paused and asked, “Yet you and Seline were still married?”

“Yes,” he said. “Seline and I were in love, and she challenged the engagement because my bride price had never been returned to me. As such, my claim superseded any other. I had given her father my most cherished possession, a pendant handed down through my family for generations. It pained me to do so, but Seline was worth any cost. Alec's father, being a just ruler at heart, ruled in Seline's favor, and we were married. It wasn't until many months later that she revealed to me that her father had given her the pendent the very day I handed it over. He loved her dearly and had no desire for more wealth. She told me that he only requested the pendant to appease his wife, who was hungry for wealth and power.”

Just when he seemed to have exhausted his supply of words, he spoke again.

“I learned it in the army,” he said, not looking up from his task. “Your title, that's where I learned it. We were camped on the south side of Lone Lake, preparing our defense. The forces from Ard had infiltrated that far by the time we were able to mobilize, and we were in a bad way. All of a sudden, a man appeared in our midst, claiming he could help. We were glad to receive him.”

The look in Aedon's face was a combination of fear, anger, and regret as he spoke. “The man was named Taian and insisted we address him as Droia. He was true to his word, though, and we were soon on the winning side of things.”

Reka looked up sharply at the name.

“Are you certain of that name,” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“I will never forget it,” Aedon said bitterly. “He betrayed us in the end and killed Seline's father, and almost me.”

He paused for a moment and then continued.

“When I woke in the infirmary several days later, Droia Taian was gone, and I was discharged from service. I had to take the news of her father's death to Seline. My reward was almost losing her to that bastard.”

Reka's mind was working feverishly to put the pieces together. Aedon must have mistaken that name. Or else someone was playing a dangerous game. Few knew it, but Taian was the name of one of the five advisers to the King. Of course, if the stone in the pendant was indeed the one he sought, and this Taian was who he claimed to be, then things alarmingly made sense. Technically he could still be alive. He did possess the stone of life, after all. If Taian discovered the location of one of the five stones, and he believed that Seline's father owned said stone, then it would make sense that he would get as close as he could to the man. Two things became apparent to Reka. He had messages to send, and it was now more important than ever to find Aedon's lost pendent. He left Aedon to his reminiscing and took off towards the house.