The nightmare of last night, haunted Fand still. All she knew of the Sonpur had been told to her by Zog. She was no longer sure that she had seen them in the potato field. It was just a dream, a very bad dream. An uneasy feeling wriggled in her stomach. Why was she fixating on the Sonpur? Why now?

To distract herself she turned her eyes back to the Ceremony. She watched as Jerue pinned the Lion Symbol on the boys’ blue shirts. When he held up the Symbol of the Dove, a strange sensation swirled inside of her. Pain radiated between her shoulder blades. Something was happening, something below her surface. She did not know what it was but it had arrived and was pulling her into its vortex. Her fingers went to her own pendant. It was so similar to the one Jerue held. He proclaimed, "To those who receive the Symbol of the Dove, much is expected. One day these young men will be the course setters of our collective destiny.” The words felt as if they had been spoken directly to her. What did this mean? She was not male. The blessing of apprenticeship would not be given to her a mere female and yet, the words Jerue had spoken had entered into her spirit.

Jerue’s voice continued, “Now will the following come and stand beside me-" Regardless of all else, she suddenly wanted to stop up her ears. There was no way she could bear hearing Zog’s name. If only she had had the good sense to stay home like Uncle Wert had, she would not be feeling so peculiar and frightened now. She looked to the bench where Sah-Zog sat. His body already leaned forward in anticipation of his Acceptance. In a slow and deliberate voice Jerue called out, "Wilm Koft." Wilme stood. "Rube Johan." Rube stood. Jerue llooked directly at Zog, smiled, and said, "Pyre Holz."

There was a nervous silence then a murmur ran through the crowd. Pyre stumbled to his feet. How could this be? And then Fand remembered, her prayer. At her request, had the Keeper intervened in this? Traded Pyre for Zog? Was that what the strange sensation she felt been about? She saw her cousin's shoulder's sag. He turned toward her. All the light in his eyes was gone. She asked herself, What have I done?

One by one, Jerue pinned the Doves on the apprentices’ shirts. Pyre looked like he was about to faint. Surely, there was some mistake. Why would the Keeper choose Pyre over Zog? Jerue laid a steadying hand and just like that, Pyre lost his pale pallor. With a practiced hand, Jerue pinned the dove on Pyre’s shirt. In that instant his entire future was settled. How would Pyre survive the rigors of the Council? He had always been a poor student, at least according to Zog, he was. And then there was the farm. Pyre loved the farm. It had been his life work, his life’s dream until now.

Jerue raised his hands and said, "Now let us pray."

The congregation bowed and closed their eyes. Fand did neither. Instead she fixed her eyes on Zog. He stood slumped with his cast down. Fand saw him take a noiseless step sideways and then another. He turned into the outer aisle and walked down the hill. Fand stood and scooted passed the women in her row to follow him. At the base of the hill Zog broke into a run. She must catch him! A terrible feeling that he was about to do himself harm surged through her. She hiked up her dress and ran too. Though it was not lady like or proper, she did not give a damn. All that mattered was Zog. Her swift feet hit the hard ground in an easy rhythm. She was gaining on him. A bit more and she would have him. He turned and went into a place he never frequented before, the run down Tavern. She stopped. She couldn't go in there. Females weren't allowed unless of course they were whores. Still, she went to the open door. Inside it was so dark she could only see the flicker of candles and silhouettes of men. The Tavern smelled of piss, spilled spirits and scorched tallow. At the bar, she saw movement and then heard Zog's voice call out, "Give me the strongest and most bitter spirit you possess!"

What? He didn't drink. He never drank. In the murky candle light Fand watched him down an entire mug of something. The instant he asked for a refill, her timidity left her. She went inside and demanded, "What are you doing?"

Zog turned to her. His eyes held a sinister gleam. "I am celebrating my future." He put the mug to his lips and said, "Would you like to drink to it as well?"

Fand shook her head. "You come home now."

Zog took swig and said, "No. I want to be here, and you need to run along. This is no place for you."

Fand grabbed hold of Zog's arm and said, "This is no place for you either."

"Yes it is." Zog tried to jerk his arm free of her but she wouldn’t let go.

Fand pleaded, "No, no. Please."

In a firm voice Zog said, "Little One go home."

"No. I am not leaving you here. Surely there has been some mistake. Pyre would never be chosen over you."

"The mistake has all been mine." Zog jerked his arm free of her. "Go home now, or I will toss you out on your ass."

He had never spoken to her like this. Never. What was wrong with him?

"Please, Zog it will be all right. You will see." She looked up at him with tear wet eyes.

A nasty laugh rolled out of his mouth. He shook his head. "It is all right now. Be gone."

She would not leave without him. As firmly as she could she said, "No."

The next instant Zog did something he had never done before. Something Fand never expected him to ever do. He raised his hand and struck her cheek with an open handed blow. It hurt worse than any slap she had ever received from Uncle Wert. Shocked she raised her hand to her cheek. She could feel the welt of Zog's handprint beginning to rise. Her eyes questioned his. He turned away. In a hard voice he said, "Go home."

Fand did not have to be told again. She headed toward the light that filtered through the open door. Once outside it took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright light of the sun. She was aware that she had just been seen coming out of the Tavern. The people on the street could see her tears, see the red mark on her face and they knew who she was and they most likely knew who had just hurt her. She let out a shuddering sob and took flight. Her legs could not carry her home fast enough. As she raced through the village hot tears streamed down her face. When she reached the dirt road that lead home, she was blind because of her tears. She stopped, rubbed her eyes hard with her shawl and took in a long slow breath. Her one desire was to get to her room as quickly as possible. What she would do once she got there, she did not know. All she knew was that the person she loved more than anyone on all of earth had just struck her and publicly shamed her and himself. She started to run again.

When she reached the cottage she stopped in the yard. Uncle Wert was singing one of his drunk songs, “Slither, slither goes the snake that bites the heel and kills the rake.” It didn’t make any sense. The last thing she wanted right now was to deal with this. Determined not to speak to him or acknowledge his presence Fand ascended the steps to the front porch. Uncle Wert was swinging in the hammock. Clasp in his pudgy hands was was a jug of his foul smelling homemade brew.

With slurred speech he asked, "So's my son with the Viper?"

In a voice that trembled, Fand said, "No."

Uncle Wert belched then said, "He's not, then he's with them other Apprentice idiots?"

"No, he isn't."

Uncle Wert sat upright. He cocked his head sideways and asked, "Where is he?"

Slowly, painfully, Fand said, "The Tavern. He didn't get accepted."

A peculiar smile split Uncle Wert's fat face. "Ah, my prayers have been answered."

Angrily, Fand retorted, "Uncle, you don't pray."

"Ah, I pray, not the prayers of the stinkin' Council, but I pray. And sometimes my prayers get answered." He raised his jug to the sky, brought it back to his lips and took a long gulp. He let out a satisfied breath.

Dismayed by his total disrespect for the sacred, Fand asked, "Do you not worry over your soul?”

“My soul is just fine girl. Never better.” Again, he toasted the sky.

Fand asked, “What about your son’s soul? His dream has been shattered, don't you care?"

Uncle Wert turned a sharp eye on her. A bit too loudly, he said, "Of course I care. Don't you see Zog's disappointment now is better'n his death later."

Fand didn't follow. "What are you talking about?"

Fire ignited in Uncle Wert’s rheumy eyes. He hissed, "Revenge my dear. How many times have I told you? Jerue has not forgotten the so-called sin of my brother-in-law. He is punishing my son for events that occurred before he was even born. I warned Zog, but he wouldn't listen. Now he has to pay for his folly. He'll recover though, you'll see." The fire in Uncle Wert’s eyes flickered out. He scratched his belly and asked, "I'm hungry what's for dinner?"

Fand frowned. "All you ever think about is your stomach."

With an unsteady hand, Uncle Wert lifted his jug to his lips. He winked at her and settled himself back down in the hammock.

Disgusted, Fand went into the house. On the kitchen table were the beginnings of a celebration feast. There was nothing to celebrate, there never had been.