The copper collar wasn't as heavy as it looked. Hollow metal circled Kelton's neck, the seam permanently sealed. He was told it could only be cut off, and do so without his owner's consent would bring him back for another lesson.

Kelton sat still on a bench, his back straight and leaning slightly backward to keep the cloth of his shirt away from his wounds. Excessive movement pulled the skin, allowing new trickles of blood to seep from the stripes left by the whip. He found it was best to pin his arms at his side and avoid stretching the skin.

It was surreal, not unlike the first Choosing he witnessed in Aragonia. Laws dreamt up by those in charge and disseminated as if all agreed. Kelton agreed with none of them. At least here he saw some purpose, though profit was a weak reason for barbarism. The Brethren's goals were unknown, but he was sure it seemed as valid to them as the whipping seemed to the Mascorites. He wondered how one got in charge. What events take place to select certain people as the deciders leaving the others to live by those decisions? Why does everyone follow? He laughed inside. Was he not following now.

Mascorite was a step up from Aragonia many ways. Breaking the law for a slave meant another lesson. A comfortable term used to hide the brutality of a lashing. In Anagoria, breaking the law usually meant death. Kelton figured that made Masorite better than vomit but still a step below dung. At least he wasn't running anymore.

"You have been called," A bronze told Kelton. The man had two soldiers at his side as if Kelton was going to take out his lashing on the poor slave. Then he remembered, he was a class 4. Kelton rose slowly, struggling not to disturb the new scabs forming on his back.

"Lead the way," Kelton said, once he was confident that movement wasn't going to make him yell. The guards followed an arm's length behind. Close enough to stop anything from happening, far enough to let Kelton conform on his own. Kelton couldn't imagine anyone starting anything with a newly torn up back. They exited into a courtyard with many lined up wagons. In the rear of the lead wagon sat Travakain's silver. The man in which Kelton had placed his trust. After the whipping, he questioned if it had been a prudent move.

"It is over," the silver said, dismounting the back of the wagon. The words were spoken as if it put an end to the pain.

"It doesn't feel over," Kelton said, ache entering the words. "Why did you not tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to," the silver said, his eyes steady on Kelton's. "Because I don't like remember or discussing it. Because seeing you now makes it hurt all over again." His eyes softened, and his lips tightened as he glanced over Kelton's shoulder. Kelton turned as slow as he could. A newly collared Yanda was approaching stiffly, followed by a single guard. Her brown dress looked as ill-fitting as Kelton's brown pants and shirt.

"I'm sorry," Kelton said to Yanda when she neared. She gave his chest a soft punch, then pulled his forehead down to hers.

"Kelton Gossamer," Yanda butchered. Kelton smiled.

"Yanda Serinda Orctavia Onlain Grovicko Sabo Divarina Linbola Travici Bangala Wath Nab Fortuna Mina Mordico Yovia Aborocollo," Kelton slaughtered back. Yanda smiled. At least their friendship had survived. Yanda turned toward the silver and spoke.

"She wants to know how many lashes before you screamed?" the silver said, his face a mask of incredulity.

"Six," Kelton said. "And they were curses, not screams." The sliver's eyebrows rose before he traded more words with Yanda.

"She says it was seven for her." The silver shook his head. "Somehow, I think she sees it as a victory." Kelton smiled and, very carefully, and gave Yanda a shallow bow. The lash had not beaten her, she beat the lash. "You have a strange relationship, my boy."

"What do we call you?" Kelton asked the silver.

"Vasco." Vasco turned to soldiers who still loitered nearby. "I claim them for Master Travakain, your duty is done."

"You have no guards?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Nor will I need them," Vasco said, shaking his head. "His Class 4 was an error. Either way, my master has stated he wishes them trusted until they prove otherwise." He turned to Kelton. "Do you intend to prove otherwise?"

Kelton shook his head. "Not this day." He added the smirk that the reply required.

"It is your back," the soldier said, shrugging his shoulders. All of the men returned to the delivery building. Kelton felt like a cow, properly processed and sent on its way to slaughter.

"Do you need help getting into the wagon?" Vasco asked. Kelton declined, as did Yanda when he repeated the offer in Sorinnian. It was more of a struggle than Kelton had imagined when he refused the help. Vasco waited patiently as Kelton maneuvered onto the wagon without disturbing his back. He failed. Judging by Yanda's expression, she failed as well.

The ride was a long one, each crevice in the road shot straight up Kelton's spin. His back was moistening, and his shirt began to adhere to the reopened scars. He tried to ignore it figuring he could only make it worse during travels.

"Master Travakain will allow you three days to recover," Vasco said as the buildings began to shrink in size. They were leaving the sea's edge and moving inland and up into the hills. Single story dwellings became the norm, and the space between them increased. "There will still be duties, but they will require no taxing movement. Master insists that everyone does what they can to help provide for when they cannot."

"Huh?" Kelton asked, not understanding.

"Someday you will be aged, or infirm for some reason or another. Master has pride in his property and will provide in those times. We are expected to contribute as we can, while we can." Vasco smiled. "It is strange, I know. They treat us as slaves, then consider us children that must be given due care. We, in turn, give them profitable labor. It is a balance that works in their favor, yet can fall our way when the time comes."

"I saw him and doubt he could provide in my old age. He'll long be dead if I am lucky enough to see gray hair."

"His eldest son will inherit both his property and his commitments. Whatever you think of these people and their laws, don't doubt their pride. We are as much adornments as we are profit generators. Our contentment makes them shine before others. The simple fact of me taking the silver is of great pride to the family. It is proof of proper care."

"The lesson," Kelton considered. "It is done outside of the house. Done by the kingdom and not the master."

"I knew you were bright," Vasco complimented. "Though the house has guards, they strive for protection and order, not punishment. As you were told, major violations earn you a return for another lesson. Master's corrections are much less severe. More of inconveniences to be avoided."

"The masters provide, and the kingdom punishes," Kelton considered out loud. "Compliance by accepting the lesser of two evils."

"Oh, my boy, you are going to love the Unglang Library." Vasco chuckled. "Your mind works quickly, and you see clearly where others are blind." He leaned closer. "These things we discuss should remain between us. Many don't appreciate the scrutiny of their ways."

"I met a man once," Kelton said, remembering Rolic, "who tried to teach me to hold back my trust. Yet I find I have given it to you without knowing it will be cared for. I can't even ask if it is misplaced, for accepting your answer requires that same trust. Hold it back, and I am crippled in a new world. Give it away, and I risk that same crippling." Kelton sighed. "You have all of it now. If you wish to trample on it, I only ask that she does not pay for my mistake." Kelton gestured toward Yanda who was watching the exchange with interest.

"From the moment your ears heard the difference in the metals as the fell, I entrusted you," Vasco responded with a large smile " Time will alleviate your doubts, and I so look forward to the arguments of logic we will have." Kelton couldn't help but smile back. If the man was false, he hid it well.

Vasco turned to face Yanda and began conversing. Kelton concentrated on not moving his scarred back as he watched Yanda's face for clues to the conversation. More than once she glanced his way with concern. Her responses fluctuated between terse to compliant. Only once did she speak more than a few words. It would be a blessing when he learned her tongue.

"What did you discuss?" Kelton asked when they looked to have finished.

"Our master wished her to know well of the arraignment he has made with you. I explained that your success is her success, and your failures are hers as well. That she will share your room so that you can be assured that our master's word is kept. No one, save you, will touch her."

"It took a long time to say that," Kelton observed.

"Our master felt it important she understands. She is protected because he sees profit in you. I emphasized that she should encourage your strives in that direction."

"She is likely to slap me down when I fail," Kelton chuckled. Yanda frowned at the laughter. He shrugged to her, and she turned away. "That is all you said?" Kelton added, confused.

"The meaning of it, aye. Is this not what you wanted?"

"It is the bargain, though I did not intend to have my actions affect her."

"It goes both ways," Vasco said. "Her actions, either good or bad become yours."

"Then I best start working on her language," Kelton said. He feared it was presented as if he owned her, in a way. That was never his intent, and it would take time to make her understand. Her will, as far as their master would allow, would remain hers. Maybe it was the shared room that bothered her. It had to be better than the cell on the ship. Better than the group housing he had been imagining. As long as they remained friends, time would sort out the rest.

The rest of the trip passed with trivial landmark discussions. Vasco pointing out prominent family homes and indicating the direction of places at crossroads. Kelton decided he would build a mental map later when his back was less loud. He concentrated on the front wheels of the wagon, noting when they rose or fell so that he could rise slightly on the seat and absorb the coming shock. None of the divots were large. The strange stone that covered the road saw to that. A constant click-clack with an intermittent broken or missing stone that slightly jarred the wagon. He decided the quantity couldn't have been carved so perfectly. They were made, so he busied himself with what the recipe for rock might look like. It helped in ignoring the painful lesions on his back.

"Here is the main house," Vasco said, as the brown who had been steering the wagon directed the horses to turn into an opening in a stone fence. Four blue livered guards stood casually near the entrance waving them through. Kelton was amazed at the height of the wall, taller than a man, yet the many different-sized smooth rocks that made up its surface didn't collapse. There was some kind of mud of a grayish color holding them together as if it were a strong web. If it was as sturdy as it looked, a house could be built in such a way. A new puzzle. Where did one find mud that could hold rock so well? In Anagoria, clay mixed with straw was used and required wood to help keep the stone in place. Here, the rocks were free standing and weathered. This mud withstood the rain.

"Is this him?" a young man called from a yard. He was excited in his bright blue tunic. It looked as if he had been waiting. His hair was perfect, cut even and laid with a smoothness that made it seem as if each amber strand was placed purposely.

"It is he, master," Vasco confirmed.

"And this is the woman whom he protects?"

"She is, master."

"Then she has my protection as well," the man said. His excitement was close to bursting. "A picture mind, and only ten gold. Father will never curse his judge day again." Kelton was uncomfortable with the worth the man was placing on him. Something he didn't understand was expected of him, and he wasn't confident he could provide it. Yanda's well being rested on the same unknowing.

"This is your master's son, Zello Tarvakian," Vasco said to Kelton. "He is proof of the continuity of the good future that master has promised."

"Yes, I am," Zello agreed. "Now let them down, Vasco. I am sure they are well sore and in need of rest. I have had a salve placed in their room that will help with the healing." He looked at Kelton and smiled. "It has a bad odor, but it does wonders. You'd hardly notice that scar had you used it when it happened." He drew his finger along his cheek, mimicking Kelton's mark.

"Thank you, ahh...master," Kelton said. His face had long healed in his mind. It always surprised him when someone pointed out what he had forgotten. His back, on the other hand, was currently unforgettable.

Kelton was shocked when Zello held out his hand to help steady Kelton's dismount from the wagon. He had assumed owners would avoid contact with their slaves and any other work for that matter. It this case, it was helpful, allowing Kelton to keep his back straighter while he climbed down. Vasco repeated the process with Yanda, though she looked less thankful.

"Can you do it once for me?" Zello asked Kelton.

"Ah, do what?" Kelton fumbled and then added, "master."

"Show your picture mind," Zello said as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. He unfolded it. "I know I should let you rest, but father told me what you did. Can you do it once, quickly?" Holding out the paper, his eyes pleaded with Kelton. Behind him, Vasco nodded to prompt Kelton. It was a polite request that would be insulting to deny.

"I can try, master," Kelton said, taking the paper. It was a series of numbers in a line, thirty of them. He glanced at the sheet, his eyes absorbing the page. It seemed a trivial skill that all should possess. After a short moment, he handed it back to Zello.

"Well?" Zello asked.

"Which number do you wish me to know?" Kelton asked.

"All of them."

Kelton shrugged and recited them from top to bottom. Zello's smile was becoming contagious. He rose on his toes as Kelton came to the end as if it would help draw out the last number.

"And do you know the sum?" Vasco asked.

"1267," Kelton replied after a bit of thought.

"Oh, Vasco," Zello said. "You have proved your worth many times over. I am so pleased you have found...what do we call you?"

"His name is Kelton, master," Vasco said, his grin equal to that of Zello's. "And the woman is named Yanda for short. Her true name is much longer and will twist your tongue."

"Then I must strive to learn it," Zello said. He looked toward Kelton. "Come. I'll show you to your room. It is larger than most, made to house two. They are bringing hot water for tea...you like tea?"

"Aye, master," Kelton replied. His mouth watered at the thought of it. He couldn't remember the last time he had a cup.

"Good, I had hoped as much," Zello continued as they walked. "I will make no secret of the fact that I hope you will become like Vasco. He continues to serve my father well, and I will remember it always. I will prove to you that the Tarvakian family does not forget those who serve." He looked at Kelton, who nodded in acknowledgment. "Vasco's key is knowledge and access to the library. Father tells me yours is invested in the well being of Yanda, is this correct?"

"Key, master?"

"The thing that drives you. The reason that will bond you with the family and hold our profits important." Zello explained. "You see, we share much with Vasco and we intend the same will happen with you. It is a risk sharing secrets and accepting advice from those like you."

"You mean slaves, master?"

"I do," Zello said, something akin to shame showing on his face. "It is how it's done. We don't make the laws, but we do operate within them." He stopped walking and turned toward Kelton. "Does Yanda's welfare tie you to my father and our house?"

"Aye, master," Kelton said, then smiled. "You risk nothing if she is well cared for."

"Then it shall be done," Zello said. He looked like he was about to pat Kelton on the back to reseal the bargain, then thought better of it. Kelton was thankful he re-thought.

The house was opulent and amazing. Kelton didn't know where to look first. It was Rolic's cave wrapped finery he never could have imagined existed. Floors of rock so smooth, they shined like water and possessed ripples of color in the shape of clouds. Golden lamps burning oil, mounted along the walls. He marveled at the light, and the sense to keep the heat and flame far out of reach. There were plants inside. Not small flowers or thin, spindly vines, but small trees and fat green blobs with needles growing in pots of sand. It was strange that they left the needles within reach, but housed the flames above the head.

"Are all places like this?" Kelton asked. Then remembered the new order and added. "Master."

"Well run houses are, though each unique," Zello replied. "It is done to prove profit. People are more ready to deal with those who have a history of good earnings. Do you like it?"

"I am lost in it," Kelton admitted. "The sight of it has created enough questions to fill a lifetime. It is all so...beautiful, master." Zello laughed.

"I am glad you enjoy it. It has been here since I was born, so it's nice to see it through another's eyes." He stepped forward turned backward while still walking. "Inside, and when only family are present, you don't have to end each thing you say with master. It is as tiring to hear as it is to say." He smiled, before turning around and heading down a long hallway frontwards. Kelton was finding it hard to hate the man.

"But our master's true names are only used for introductions," Vasco warned. He repeated the title instructions in Sorinnian and Yanda promptly slaughtered the word 'master' a few times. Zello tried not to laugh and failed.

"Tell her it is not meant in insult, Vasco. I am sure I'd have as much trouble with her language," Zello said. Kelton could tell Yanda appreciated Vasco's explanation of the laughter.

"Chir'ga," Yanda said, rolling the sounds into the 'r' and grunting out the 'a.'

"It is her word for master," Vasco said.

"Chirga," Zello repeated, only his word didn't roll or grunt.

"Close," Vasco lied. Yanda didn't laugh, only shook her head.

"Not close at all, Vasco. But thank you for lying," Zello said. The house was bigger than it appeared on the outside. They turned into another hallway and continued on. "Her word is fine if she finds it easier to use. Sounds more impressive anyway." Vasco relayed Zello's decision which brought out Yanda's smile. She was having trouble hating Zello as well. Imprisoned by kindness and mutual respect.

They exited the house into a small circular garden. Ahead, lay another building, white exterior like the one they just left, yet smaller in stature. Zello led them into the new building's front room. Two guards dressed in blue rose from their seats greet them.

"This is Sargent Filgot," Zello said, pointing at a man with thick black hair. His arms were caked in it like fur.

"Ah, the picture mind," Filgot said. His voice was deep, echoing off some canyon buried in his bulk. "I was told you know the sword as well."