Kelton squirmed across the ground on his belly, slowly and silently inching toward the makeshift camp. The wagon had stopped for the night, and the soldiers had set guards, though they weren't as diligent as Kelton had been led to expect. They sat with their backs to trees looking outward from the camp, more interested in the cleaning of their gear than any threat. They didn't seem to care much for the duty.

It was well dark by the time Kelton was close enough to hear what was transpiring around the fire, where all but the sentries had gathered. He was three or four body lengths away. He smiled at how close he had gotten. The bush that hid him from view was of the large leaf variety, barely letting him see beyond, but hiding him well. He settled in, moving slightly about to achieve some measure of comfort among the uneven earthen debris.

"What do you go by, storyteller," The brother asked.

"Gossamer, your Eminence."

"We've heard tell of one who has been speaking untruths. Attempting to sully the Goddess and all that she stands for. You aren't that blasphemous one, are you?"

"No, your Eminence," Gossamer responded quickly with a vehemence born of fear. "I have always left the Goddess' words for you and yours. I tell only fables and steer well clear of the truths for fear of getting them wrong." Kelton had never heard Gossamer truly frightened before. It wasn't his usual act.

"Wise." The brother nodded. "Though I would expect just that answer from a heretic when retribution was near."

"Your Eminence, I would never..."

"Calm, storyteller." The brother raised his hand and chuckled. "The man is described as beardless and much younger, also in possession of a boldness you obviously lack. I will take you at your word."

"Thank you, your Eminence," Gossamer said, his shoulders relaxing again. Kelton didn't understand Gossamer's fear of one man. The brother was arrogant in posture and clothing, but normal in all other respects. There was a large wart marring the left side of his beak-like nose. Nothing noble about that. The presence of the soldiers may have been part of it.

"The mother... her name escapes me."

"Joycelyn, if I remember correctly," Gossamer replied.

"I fear Joycelyn intends to only feed her family," the brother smiled. "Gather her and her brood." He circled his finger, pointing about the fire. "All will be fed, and then there will be a story that I hope will be entertaining."

"Yes, your Eminence." Gossamer rose as if a servant.

"They are gathered behind the wagon, praying I hope. The Goddess doesn't look kindly on words against her will." Gossamer moved quickly at the brother's veiled threat.

The family was hidden from view though Kelton could feel them as clearly as the hidden sentries. The scene at the fire shifted as Gossamer headed off, becoming oddly confusing. It was if something was out of place, not where it should be. He moved his head about, eyeing more of the area through different gaps in the leaves. A shiver crawled along his spine as he struggled to orientate his mind and decipher what was astray. When Gossamer fully left his view, it came to him. He couldn't feel the brother. His insides were arguing with his eyes. No one was there, yet there the brother clearly was.

Kelton held his breath as his mind assembled the facts. Gossamer behind the bush and the family on the other side of the wagon. The brother could feel people as well. Fear gripped his mind, and he almost slid away into the night. Reason prevailed and overrode the panic. The brother felt Gossamer, not him. Kelton was invisible to the brother. He was unseen.

Conversations from the past held new meaning. Joycelyn had understood it as well. As the understanding grew, more questions began to form. Did this make Kelton part of the Brethren? Had Gossamer ripped him from his birthright? Everything he knew of the Brethren made his stomach clench. Though, everything he knew was provided by Gossamer. Gossamer feared the Brethren, or at least the brother before him. At the least, significant omissions had been made. At worst, Kelton had been lied to.

"Our food stores are about empty, your Eminence," Joycelyn said as the family approached.

"Then you shall empty them," the brother returned without a thought. "The Goddess will recognize the gift all the more. We will eat by rank, and you women will have what's left." Kelton cringed. He couldn't be related to someone like the brother. Rebecca and Taggert should eat first if food were lacking. The man was no better than the demons in one of Gossamer's stories.

"Of course, your Eminence. I didn't want to displease you with a meager offering," Joycelyn spoke as she reached into the back of the wagon, pulling out one the small crates. Cory began to help her.

"Leave her be, man," the brother said with disgust. "I have questions for you and don't wish to shout." Joycelyn forced a smile to her husband and shooed him away with her eyes. Cory moved to the fire and sat a good distance from the brother. He was joined by Gossamer, both looking uncomfortable.

"You do a lot of woman's work?"

"No, your Eminence," Cory replied. "It's the heavy things I thought I'd help with."

"Then you wish them weak and useless. What good are they if you coddle them? After breeding, what purpose would they serve if you do their work for them?"

"I wasn't thinking, your Eminence."

"The Goddess is the only woman you must hold close to the heart. Her words are the only words you must heed. Thus I am conflicted by you. Both you and your wife seem fit, yet only two offspring. Does not the Goddess instruct unions to be fruitful?"

"Two is all the Goddess has blessed us with, your Eminence. We continue to try for more."

"If this one is all dried up, mayhap you should consider another mate." Kelton's fists balled up in sync with Cory's. Joycelyn wasn't some tool that could be discarded.

"I love her, your Eminence."

"Ahh," the brother smiled. "The Goddess does love a lover. Perhaps it's your seed that is failing. I could have one of my soldiers give her a ride and possibly change your fortunes."

"I love her," Cory said loudly, rising from the ground. Gossamer was struggling to pull him back down. There was an evil brewing behind Cory's eyes, well justified in Kelton's mind. He had yet to fully understand women, but he instinctively knew they shouldn't be treated as the brother intended. Joycelyn ran toward Cory.

"I shall do as his Eminence commands," Joycelyn said as she attempted to calm Cory and get him to sit down. There was a sobbing coming near the wagon. Taggert was holding Rebecca in his lap, trying to soothe her. The situation was surreal, nothing in his life had prepared Kelton for the brother. How could someone be so callous with a family that obviously was meant to be together? How could he do it in front of the children?

"She's the intelligent one." The brother said, adding laughter that no one shared. "Alas, my troops would think it a reward, and I am disinclined to reinforce the sloth they've shown on this trip." Cory, via Joycelyn's direction, lowered himself back to the ground. Joycelyn returned to her food preparations. Kelton wondered if anyone else saw the tears in her eyes. The brother held them all in fear with a power Kelton didn't comprehend.

"I will work harder, your Eminence," Cory said through a tight throat. "Every day if need be."

"Yes," the Brother responded with a strict expression, "with more offspring, you would not feel the need to run from a choosing."

"Choosing?" In a performance worthy of Gossamer, Cory morphed his face into one of surprise. "We are two years from the next Choosing, your Eminence. Well within our rights to migrate."

"The Goddess needs more servants of her will." The brother sighed. "The edict has changed, and I contend you knew so. Is it your assertion that you knew nothing of this?"

"Nothing, your Eminence. Besides, my daughter already stood for a Choosing. Certainly, she wouldn't be asked to stand twice."

"The blessing of the Goddess only considers age," the brother ruled. "She is less than ten winters, therefore she will stand. Would you have her miss a second chance at receiving the Goddess's blessing?"

"We will do our duty as the Goddess sees fit to set it," Joycelyn said as she approached the fire with a large pot. She smiled to her husband who seemed on edge. Kelton sensed that Cory was not going to answer as Joycelyn had. It was in his posture, the way he his hands were balled and the tightness of his neck muscles that projected a brewing anger. Joycelyn placed the pot on the edge of the fire, between Cory and the Brother. She began stirring, using her body to block the brother's view of her husband.

"What kind of story would you like to hear tonight, your Eminence?" Gossamer asked. Kelton knew he was changing the subject on purpose, helping Joycelyn put some time between the brother's words and Cory's anger.

"A topic you well know," the brother replied. "A tale about a storyteller. That will keep you thinking." Gossamer gave him an uncomfortable smile and nodded.

Kelton's mind was busy trying to understand everyone's actions. They were many, and the soldiers seemed disinterested. Why were they subservient to the brother. The Goddess's messengers were surely deserving of respect, but the fearful obedience was confusing. The brother treated everyone like they were far beneath him, almost as if they weren't much better than animals. Something was missing, something other's knew well but had been hidden from Kelton.

In time, Joycelyn and Rebecca served dinner. First, the brother received a portion, then the soldiers. Gossamer and Cory refused a portion, though Kelton knew they were hungry for he was as well. The brother insisted they eat and eat they did. The brother seemed to enjoy emptying the pot, leaving the women with nothing for the night. Joycelyn pulled Rebecca close to her, hiding the girl's anguish from the brother.

"You cook well woman," the brother said as he licked his fingers. "Saves us from another night of jerky and hard bread." Cory stood with fire in his eyes. Kelton could see his tolerance for the poor treatment of his family was waning. The brother gave him a relaxed smile, almost daring him to attempt something.

"A story about a storyteller," Gossamer announced. He stood quickly, shifting Cory farther from the brother in the guise of creating his stage. "It is a difficult plot you have set for me, your Eminence." He chuckled to lighten the stiffness that had settled around the fire. "I have never shied from the task and certainly wouldn't think of disappointing a servant of the Goddess."

Gossamer went to full acting mode. The tale was one that mirrored their own past, only it was an orphaned girl the storyteller had to raise, and they didn't spend their life hiding from the world in the woods. In another twist, they weren't thieves, but victims of thievery. It wasn't lost on Kelton that the description of the girl matched Rebecca. The story unfolded with the storyteller taking the lead, using brilliant deduction to track down thieves he had never physically seen. He enraptured the criminals in the telling of a story as the young girl used stealth to steal back what was theirs. She was almost caught numerous times, once when one of the villains was within arms reach. Kelton smiled as he watched Rebecca leaning forward in anticipation. She may not have had dinner, but Gossamer had made her into a hero.

"Suzana's heart was pounding," Gossamer continued, tapping his own heart with the flat of his hand. "She knew that if she were seen, all would be lost. Her life and that of her adoptive father would be forfeit. Not to mention the other innocents." His voice was low and ominous, his eyes scanning the audience and briefly passing across Kelton's hiding place. Kelton realized Gossamer had spotted him and issued a warning. He doubted death would be the result of being seen, but it concerned Gossamer greatly. Kelton was more concerned with the coming lecture about being seen. Silently, he backed away from his hiding place.

Kelton rose when he had created enough space between the idle sentries and returned to his pack. Disappointed at missing the end of the story, he crawled under a large conifer with thick needled branches. The bed of fallen needles below created a cushion that would make sleep easier, the branches hiding him from any casual observation. His thoughts danced around the clues he had been able to assemble that day. None of them lead into a solid understanding. His limited knowledge of the world was the limiting factor. It felt intentional, as if Gossamer thought him too young to understand. There would be words when next they talked. It was time to know things, not the slow trickle of tidbits that Gossamer had been passing out. Kelton needed all the whys behind the warnings. Being nieve was a growing annoyance.

A misty rain woke Kelton. The tree had gathered the tiny droplets, grouped them along its branches and released the gathering on his forehead in a large wet bead. He sat up quickly, knocking a lower branch which loosed a shower along his form. The cold water is not what shocked him the most. It was the gray clouds that hid the sun higher in the sky than he desired. He couldn't feel Gossamer, nor the rest of the wagon party. He had overslept.

Gathering his pack and wrapped swords, Kelton crawled from beneath the evergreen causing water to cover his back. The road was a short walk away from his makeshift bed. He took his bearings and moved off in the direction the party was heading the day before. Gossamer wishes were no longer a consideration. Ignorance was infuriating, and Kelton wanted to end it. If Gossamer desired him north, he would go south. Besides, he promised Rebecca.

The mist gave up toward midday though the blanket of clouds showed no sign of leaving. Kelton had been moving quickly, almost at a jog and still, he hadn't caught up to the wagon. The road was oddly devoid of travelers so he couldn't even query about a passing troop. He stopped near a stream to refill his water skin and pull some dried meat from his pack. Gnawing on the meat, he picked up his pace hoping the direction was still correct. He couldn't think of a reason they would have gone the other way.

It wasn't until late afternoon when he felt people ahead. More than he expected, many more. Kelton moved into the trees, paralleling the road as he approached. The forest thinned and soon gave way to series of wooden slatted buildings on the edge of a town. Kelton could feel a gathering ahead on the other side of the domiciles he had come upon. Crowds were difficult for him to decipher without his eyes. His feeling could sense the mass, but not the individuals. Like attempting to count the trees in the forest from a distance. Maybe with more practice, he would figure it out. Gossamer had made sure his experience with gatherings were rare. They never stayed long when groups formed.

Kelton moved to the first dwelling, his second-sight aware of no one on his side of the homes. He glanced around the corner between two buildings and saw no cover, though he did spy the backs of a group of townsfolk at the edge of the gathering. Moving to the other side of the building, he found a large rain barrel near the front of the building. It was situated next to a waist-high stack of fire logs that provided good cover. A moment later, he was behind the barrel, looking through gaps in the logs. He laid down his pack and unwrapped the swords in case they would be needed.

The town center lay before him. A water well built from stones was in the center and more wood structures lined both sides of a much-widened road. People, nearly a hundred at a quick glance, were lined along the far side with some of them curved around, the line crossing road. The soldiers were dismounted and formed along the opposite of side of the well, blocking that side of the road. Some soldiers wore red cloaks instead of the King's blue, the count had doubled from the night before. Kelton assumed the reds were local, the Hold Lord's men.

The crowd was muted and uncomfortable with eyes fighting to look up from the ground. Kelton figured a lot must be farmers from around the small town since the numbers present wouldn't easily fit the few structures he could see.

Three woman holding bundles were lined in front of the well. Kelton recognized the man who stood before them. The brother moved purposely between them, touching the bundles and spouting practiced words in a language Kelton didn't understand. When one of the bundles cried out, he realized they were babies.

"Is this all that was brought to be blessed?" the brother asked loudly when he finished with the last babe. He turned about looking angrily at the gathered crowd. "Well!" A small elderly man stepped forward and bowed his head.

"They are all that has been birthed this season, your Eminence."

"Then you slack in your duty to your Goddess." The brother moved quickly, walking close to the cowering throng as if he meant to strike them. "By the looks of most of you, the population will dwindle quickly with such low breeding. Should the goddess supply real men to copulate with your women?" A unified gasp filled the square.

"No, your Eminence," the elderly man said. The fear in his voice was clear. "We have been slack in our duties. Mayhap a return to daily prayer will remind our young of their obligations."

"You will see to it. When I return next season, I expect every fertile woman to be with child. Those that I find barren will be bedded by five of the King's own." The brother pointed at the men of the town, his finger jabbing at them one by one. "What this town needs is a more virile seed."

"It will be done, your Eminence," the elderly man responded quickly. Kelton saw the fear growing on the faces. He had no idea why they would put up with such dictates. The idea of copulation, as described by Gossamer, was messy enough. To allow soldiers to do it to your wife would be unthinkably gross. The power the one brother had was confusing. There were so many of them and only one of him. Even the soldiers were greatly outnumbered.

The brother waved the three mothers away. They moved quickly, disappearing into the crowd, obviously uncomfortable with being under the nose of the brother.

"The Goddess requires more devoted servants. Bring forth your candidates and pray they will be chosen, for her love of the innocents knows no bounds. They will be treated as princesses and given all they desire." The brother was a poor actor, nowhere near the skill of Gossamer. Kelton could see right through the phony words, delivered with such amatureness it bordered on the ridiculous.

Rebecca came forward with six other girls. Kelton's chest felt as if a nail had wormed its way in. He looked from whence she came and saw Gossamer staring straight at him. Almost imperceptibly, Gossamer shook his head 'no.' Kelton wasn't in a cooperative mood. He knew what he wanted to do, though the fear of it was starting to fill him. If the whole town couldn't face the brother, what hope did he have?