Kelton had never seen so much metal in one place. Intricately designed and in shapes whose functionality was a mystery. The metal before him didn't hold the dull color of iron. It was gold, silver, and copper like coins. He couldn't imagine the craftsmanship it took to shape them, some so thin it was surprising they didn't collapse upon themselves.

Rolic retrieved a dull golden bowl with a spout at the end and brought it to the growing fire. The hearth fire ignited the spout like a candle. He placed it back on the table. He lit two more of these devices, and light bathed the cavern. Kelton still hadn't moved.

"Are you staying?" Rolic asked.

"It is like a field of spring flowers," Kelton said, his eyes traveling across colors that he'd never knew cloth could take. The King's Own had cloaks of red, and the Hold Lords wore blue. They were said to be a gift from the Brethren. The rest of the world wore shades of gray and brown.

"It is done with dyes," Rolic said. He looked pleased as if he enjoyed Kelton's naivete. "I confess I know little about it. There are many in the craft who make their living knowing."

"In Aragonia?"

"No, that knowledge is suppressed here." Kelton lowered his pack to the ground.

"Like your bow and arrow."

"Aye, among many other things. Possession of a bow would cost you your life. That and the life of everyone who saw it."

"My life is already forfeit," Kelton mumbled. For the first time, the thought held power. There was no fear of learning more. A person certainly can't be killed twice. He moved toward a large cloth draped against the side of the cavern. Thickly woven with vibrant colors. An image of a cloaked horseman riding hard, their clothing shiny like metal. He smiled as he traced the lead man's drawn sword with his finger.

"It is called a tapestry," Rolic informed him. "It is an artist's image of a great battle from long ago."

"You wear the same mustache," Kelton observed. He marveled at the detail that was present in the cloth.

"Vanity," Rolic admitted. "Don't we all dream of being a hero?" Kelton nodded, knowing both the truth and horrible reality of the statement. He lowered his hand thinking of the deaths such a battle would cause.

"How long does it take to learn to create something like this?"

"It takes talent and many winters," Rolic replied. "Some are born with it and others, like me, can only play at it." Kelton thought of Gossamer and his stories. There was no doubt Gossamer was born to tell them. He smiled, Taggert had the talent in him as well. Kelton turned to Rolic.

"It is foolish to hide such beauty. Why would such things be hidden?"

"Art is powerful," Rolic said as he began to remove his traveling gear. "Like the tapestry, it can hold the past and is equally comfortable housing dreams of the future. It is most impressive when it comments on the now. Without a single word, it can shift men's minds and unite them in common cause."

"It could make things difficult for the King and Brethren," Kelton said more to himself than to Rolic. He shifted to one of the lidded burning bowls. There were designs carved along its body. As he neared, he recognized vines with blooming flowers etched into the metal. "How does the wax get into it?"

"It isn't wax. It burns an oil made from olives. Its a simple device called a lamp."

"It is simple if you've seen it before," Kelton said as he lightly tapped the lamp's surface expecting it to be hot but finding it cool. "Why does it not just burst? I've seen oils flame up before."

"There is cloth that only lets a little oil at a time seep up. It's like a candle wick. That and it is a slow burning oil." Kelton carefully lifted the lid and saw the reservoir filled with a liquid.

"You can fill it while it burns," Kelton theorized.

"Safer if you don't." Rolic chuckled. "There are larger ones built for such things. They keep the flame well away from the reservoir." Kelton nodded and replaced the lid. He didn't know where to look next. Everything around him was new to his eyes. He decided on what looked like a stack of leather-bound boxes, no more than two hands in length. It was the tautness of the leather that intrigued him.

"Books," Rolic said as Kelton's hand reached out to trace the threading along the edge. "They hold knowledge and allow it to be shared." The idea didn't make sense to Kelton. How could a box hold something that belonged in the mind? Skills needed to be shown to be shared. He lifted the top box's lid and found another lid below it. This one was etched with symbols and to Kelton's surprise, as thin as a strand of hair. Rolic moved closer and lifted the book and placed it in Kelton's hands. He opened it flipping a few of the lids over until Kelton realized it was all lids.

"There is nothing inside," Kelton commented.

"There is more than you know in there." Rolic's smile was growing. Kelton decided Rolic wasn't finding him foolish, He was enjoying Kelton's learning.

"These etchings...they mean something?"

"They are words formed from letters." Rolic's finger moved from symbol to symbol. "Each letter is a sound. When you add them together, they make a word." He used two fingers to show the division between words made by the blank sections between the letters.

"Isn't it easier to just say the words?"

"Much easier," Rolic said. "Though if you understand these letters, you can read the words of men who died long ago. You could learn skills and know other's ideas without ever knowing the men who spoke them." A shiver ran down from the book along Kelton's arms.

"A man you can see and judge. How would you know these words to be true?" Kelton asked. Rolics laughter echoed off the cave walls.

"You are no fool at all, my boy." Rolic clapped Kelton on the shoulder. "It is true, both good and bad can be put into words and those words can be put onto parchment." His finger tapped the words in the open book. "It is wisdom that allows us to tell the difference. This book took two moon's to transcribe, or 'etched' in your words. It would be folly to put such time into something you didn't believe in."

"These symbols, are they hard to learn?"

"Those symbols would be very difficult for one such as you. They are written in Noratic, and you must learn to speak it first." Rolic took the book from Kelton's hand and replaced it with another, it was smaller and not as thick. "This is written...etched...in Galvik, the form of language we are speaking now."

"Language?"

"There are many lands, Kelton. There are just as many languages. Each land has its own words for things and their own way of saying them. Aragonia doesn't tolerate visitors, so these things and those languages are unknown to you."

"Or you are lying," Kelton said, he let his smile indicate he would only trust Rolic so far. Rolic nodded matching Kelton's smile. Kelton was proud of his effort of withholding trust.

"Yes, my boy, I could be lying. Though I don't think you could fathom a reason for it." Kelton had to agree with that. "Little lies are built of vanity, and big ones filled with motive. Being unseen at your age, you intrigue me. I have made assumptions. The Brethren know of you and therefore wish you dead. You are skilled enough to evade this, though I suspect some help has been provided." Rolic rubbed his chin. "Your reference to Kushiel's Answer tells me there are those that believe you to be such. At first, you offered to sacrifice yourself, a most surprising thing to find in this land."

"If you knew her, you would not think it surprising," Kelton said.

"Her? That's right. You said 'just me, not her.' So it was for a woman?"

"No! She is not..." Rolic laughed when Kelton paused after realizing he was saying too much again. Kelton shrugged his shoulders and gave up. "She is just a girl. One who was to be Chosen." Rolic's smile disappeared. It was a sudden thing, like a candle being snuffed out.

"I promised you a meal, did I not?" Rolic said. Kelton nodded, curious about the quick change in subject. "Then we shall have one." Rolic's smile began to return. "Food, drink and fresh words to share. Lower your pack and remove your cloak. I intend to talk you into staying the night."

"My questions may take all night," Kelton said, looking at the unrecognized things in Rolic's cave. He lowered his pack and found an empty area to lay it then draped his cloak across it. Rolic signaled him to follow before he grabbed a lamp and disappeared down a skinny passage to the left of the hearth.

The passage led deeper into the hill then they turned into a small cavity. It was cooler than the main cavern with a short ceiling that forced them both to bend to avoid hitting their heads. Inside were three crates, two as long as a man, the last half that.

"My larder," Rolic said as lifted the lid on one of the large crates. The wood bound with black metal bands which looked more secure than the leather bindings Kelton was used to seeing. The inside was filled with more salt than Kelton had ever seen in one place, not that he had been in a larder before. Rolic fished his hand into to the salt and retrieved a large piece of meat and held it out. It took a moment before Kelton realized he was to be the mule and took the meat from Rolic. Rolic spread the salt evenly again, completely covering some of the other meat that became exposed.

"It's venison from a buck I took half a moon ago," Rolic said as he closed the lid. "We'll need to give it a good soak before we cook it. Too much salt irritates my insides."

"We usually dry our meats," Kelton said.

"Somewhat the same. There are those that can smoke and season right. I lack that skill and prefer that more flavor is left in the meat. Salt makes it last a moon or two without sapping all the taste."

"Dried is chewy and tasteless," Kelton agreed. "It tires my jaw if it's eaten too much."

"Then this will be a treat if not overcooked." They moved back into the main cavern and Rolic set up a large bowl with water for rinsing the meat. He dipped it numerous times and picked out the large salt crystals that had pressed into the flesh.

"I have never seen things like you have here," Kelton said. "Where did you get it all."

"Some I brought with me, others I acquired from the Seven."

"The Seven?" Kelton asked. Rolic stopped rinsing and looked at Kelton with disbelieving eyes.

"It is not nice to play your host as a fool," Rolic said and returned to the rinsing with a gusto that indicated he felt insulted.

"I don't wish to offend, but I've never heard of the Seven."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Most of what I know of the world I have learned in the past few moons." Kelton's tone rose. "You say I play you for a fool. I say I am the fool, for I think you are playing with me. Mayhap, this hiding of trust is a foolish game."

"You know nothing of the Seven?"

"Nothing!"

"You wear their mark," Rolic said. Kelton looked about himself in confusion. "On your wrist...that woven bracelet identifies their agents."

"It was a gift," Kelton said. He looked at the bracelet closely, turning it on his wrist. "She did not say it had a purpose. What is the Seven? Should I not be wearing it?"

"She?" Rolic asked, his friendly smile back. Kelton rolled his eyes.

"I will say no more until you tell me of the Seven." Rolic laughed, the unintended squabble between them seemingly forgotten.

"They are more than seven, though I suspect they started out with that number," Rolic said. He was shaking water off the venison as he spoke. "The ports are well managed by the Brethren. A little is allowed to pass to royalty, and even less to the commoners. At most, one such as you may taste foreign wheat when Aragonia crops fail." He moved the meat to an iron pan. "They wish to keep you in the dark of the world's treasures. And with it, the world's thoughts." Rolic moved the pan to a small table and opened a wooden box on top of it. There were compartments inside filled with colored powders. "The Seven have found ways around the Brethren. They know of vessels with captains who enjoy having more coin. The Seven have a system for smuggling small items and transporting them across Aragonia for profit."

"The Brethren don't know of this?"

"Knowing and catching are two different things," Rolic said as he took pinches of a brown powder from the box and sprinkled it on the meat. "There is a balance that must be maintained. Killing many to prevent a tiny disruption is not in the Brethren's best interest. The Seven know this and keep the activity small and hidden." Rolic brought the pan up to his nose and took a whiff. He smiled and waved Kelton over. Kelton smelled the meat. A pleasant scent that made his mouth water.

"It is spice called death-cane. It comes from drying out the bark of a tube-like plant covered in long sharp needles. Those that harvest it are called death-eaters and can be singled out by their swollen hands. The needles are mildly poisonous and cause flesh to swell."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Only to the harvester," Rolic answered. "Once the needles are removed, the bark is harmless and adds a nice zing to meat. The older the meat, the more death-cane." Rolic bounced his eyebrows causing Kelton to smile.

Rolic moved the iron pan to the hearth and laid it atop three strategically placed stones. Kelton marveled at the design of the hearth. Rocks, the size of a man's head, placed one atop the other to form a chimney that reached up and joined a large crack in the ceiling of the cave. The exposed portion of the crack was sealed with smaller stones.

"It leaks some in a strong rain," Rolic said when he saw where Kelton was looking. "One of the hazards of living in a cave."

"It is well built. The stones are fit tightly."

"Carrying them was the hard part. Two at a time was the best I could do, and that if I desired a sore back."

"How many winters has it lasted?" Kelton asked. He struggled to seem disinterested in the answer as if it were merely a reason to converse.

"More than one and less than the age of the world," Rolic replied with a chuckle.

"So you've been here over a year," Kelton said, pointing out that he learned something, meager as it was. The trust game was irritating, but still, he desired to win. "And you've been alone."

"Well done, my boy," Rolic complimented. "Analysis and inference. Not bad for one of...what...twelve winters?"

"Almost fifteen," Kelton said with pride. Rolic laughed. Kelton threw his arms up and sighed. He had given away more than he received. He was terrible at this game. Maybe he could interest Rolic in a game of stones.

"I've studied people for many years," Rolic said. "Discerning fact and motive is one skill I know well." He poked at the meat with a short metal rod as it began to sizzle. "It has served me well over the years. Don't fret about my calculations. With you, it is more interest than need."

"I dislike dealing in secrets," Kelton admitted. "It makes words hard to use."

"Secrets, truth, lies. They are all difficult to deal with." Rolic smiled. "I think lies have trouble leaving your mouth. It is one your weaknesses." He shrugged. "Or a strength. It depends on who is listening."

"How do you know I haven't been lying?" Kelton wondered how one could tell.

"Years of practice."

"How do I know you are not lying?"

"You don't. So the game of trust continues." Rolic went back to studying the cooking meat, adjusting the position of the pan. "You do have some clues. Unless you can discern a motive for me lying, you can assume I am not. We share a pariah status that forges a bond, weak or strong is up to us. I have shown you my home and placed my weapons out of reach." He looked at Kelton, his smile reaching his eyes. "I would not waste good meat on someone I wished to harm."

"But still we have secrets."

"For now. Though you'll have a full belly and a warm dry night. That's worth keeping a few secrets, is it not?"

Kelton had to agree, being tired of dried meat. Warmth, food, and conversation would be a welcome change from the loneliness. He missed Gossamer, though didn't regret his decision to leave. Strange, he missed Juno as much, maybe more. There was something about being close to her.

Rolic was a good cook, or the death-cane had successfully covered his flaws. The venison was succulent, the gaminess subdued by the spice. It was washed down with a sweet mead, a concoction Rolic said had taken years to perfect. The warm brew helped the meat sit well in Kelton's stomach.

"From honey?" Kelton verified for the second time. He was on his third cup of mead. There was something about it that made him feel better. Not that he was feeling particularly bad before.

"It is the main ingredient. I add some spices of my own design to make it mine. There is plenty more, so help your self."

"I never liked wine much," Kelton said. "It always stirred up my gut. This is more...more comfortable." He faltered a little trying to stand up to retrieve another cup.

"Sit, sit. I need to refill my own as well," Rolic said. Kelton thought that was rather nice of him and handed Rolic the empty cup. Kelton had always thought of Gossamer as the smartest man he knew, but now he realized that Rolic may have seen more. The cave was full of wonders and Rolic was well versed in their function and assembly. Such a nice man. A good friend with which to spend the night.

"So, why are you traipsing through the world all alone?" Rolic asked as he handed Kelton another full cup.

"It's a secret," Kelton said and found the answer funny. He took swig and mead dribbled down his chin. Lesson learned. Don't drink while smiling.

"Someone must know the secret," Rolic said as he sat down and signaled Kelton to wipe his chin. Kelton wiped his chin with his wrist, forgetting that it was the hand with the cup. His pants became damp, but not enough to be overly concerned about.

"Gossamer knows," Kelton said.

"He must be trustworthy."

"Most trustworthy person in the world." Kelton took another sip. He realized it was a bold statement that needed clarification. Rolic probably knew many trustworthy people, but he didn't know Gossamer. "He raised me from a babe with no help from anyone." His words became louder, and some more mead spilled when he waved his arm out for emphasis. "I left him because he would die for me. He would you know. No one else would, but he would. Well maybe Juno might, but I wouldn't want her too." Kelton looked at Rolic who was sitting comfortably with his back against a cushion. He was a good listener. "You know of girls like Juno?"

"A girl who would die for me? I don't think I do," Rolic admitted. "She must be special."

"Yes," Kelton said, his head nodding up and down. "She healed me, and I washed her hair. Well, she washed me first, but then I got to wash her hair." It seemed important that Rolic knew the order of things so that he didn't get confused. Kelton raised his free fingers to his lips and smiled. "I kissed her." He tilted his head. "Or she kissed me." He laughed. "Does it matter who kissed who?"

"Mayhap, you kissed each other."

"That's it!" Kelton stood, and the room spun a little. "She asked though. I should have asked, but I didn't know I would like it." Kelton leaned toward Rolic and whispered. "It was the first time you know."

"You were her first kiss?"