Yanda hummed as she reset Kelton's hair. He sat on the bed in silence as she worked, undoing old braids and reweaving as if it were her favorite thing. She had woken him early to make sure he washed, and there was time for her fiddling. Kelton closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her skin against his. Yanda had no reservations against touching. There were times when her softer parts lay against him as if it were the most normal of actions. It wasn't, yet his mind refused to alter his position and undo the contact.

"Juno liked it when I washed her hair," Kelton said once Yanda finished. "Mayhap, I can wash yours."

"Juno?" Yanda said, her eyes forming a question while mispronouncing the word. She continued restating Juno's name a few more times. There was no anger, just confusion.

"Aye, I talk of her a lot," Kelton said. "She is hard to explain, made more so by our lack of words." He reached out and stroked Yanda's hair. "I only mentioned her in passing. She liked her hair washed and mayhap you would as well. Is it stupid to think all women like the same things?"

"Juno - yeacum dido?" Yanda asked.

"Dido?" Kelton asked, shrugging his shoulders. Yanda lifted her arms outward, palms up and looked toward the ceiling. He struggled to put meaning to the word. Female - something. Reverence maybe.

"Vasco," Yanda said with a quick nod of her head.

"Aye, Vasco," Kelton agreed. They would need a translator for that word. Yanda smiled and kissed his forehead before pulling him up from the bed. They dressed, then Yanda pointed toward the shelf and the disheveled washing cloths as well as some errant spilled water. Kelton sighed and cleaned it up. She was queen of his hair and the room.

-----

"I'll be traveling with you, sir," Filgot insisted. Zello rolled his eyes.

"It is a simple thing, Filgot. We travel to a farm, fill our wagons, and return before the sun goes down. Two of your men will be fine," Zello insisted.

"Forgive me, sir, but your father has tasked me with security. My men carry blades, and you travel with one that knows them too well. I feel it wise to have one of those swords on my belt." Filgot looked at Kelton as if he were expecting him to object.

"You have no trust, Filgot." Zello raised his hands in surrender. "As you wish. It will be a long journey with you glaring like a wolf ready to pounce. "

"Is traveling unsafe where we are going?" Kelton asked Filgot. He decided days before to ignore the man's mistrust and stuck to that plan. It was probably better if Filgot did join them. More time to gain his trust.

"Rarely," Filgot replied. "The King's men aren't as visible in the countryside. It is wise to bring some protection to prevent looking like an easy target." His eyes narrowed at Kelton. "It is my job to make sure nothing unexpected happens."

"My vow stands with you," Kelton said.

"And that is enough of that," Zello injected. "He won't touch a blade, and you'll be there to make sure. Is there anything else, Filgot?"

"Nay, sir. I am satisfied."

"Good, then we can get started before the day ends." Zello trudged off signaling for Kelton to follow. "He means nothing by it. Spends too much time in the taverns is all. Father would let him go except..."

"He cares about the family," Kelton finished.

"Aye," Zello said, adding a smile. "And he's so big. Many an argument has been prevented with him at my side."

"I take no offense, nor think worse of him for it." Kelton looked around at the peaceful place he had begun to think of as home. "It must be hard for Filgot. A warrior's heart and no one to fight. Mayhap, I should lean towards a few blades and give him something to do." Zello laughed.

The trip to the farm was bumpy and uneventful. The trees looked little different from Aragonia. Kelton recognized many, which brought back good thoughts of his youth with Gossamer.

There were two wagons, a sword on each. The second blade was manned by Taggert, whose name brought a smile to Kelton. Fond memories of throwing stones with a much younger version of the name. Zello and Kelton sat in the back of the first wagon, the one in which Filgot insisted on riding. Six other properties traveled along, two being drivers and four laborers for helping with the corn. All looked content to get away from their daily duties and experience new scenery. One of the crew, a woman who looked a little older than Yanda, began to hum a tune. The others joined when Zello smiled his tacit approval. Words soon replaced humming.

Birds fly so high, free upon the sky - Wolves slink low, all in a row - Watch with your eye, lest you lose your pie - For bird or wolf are the cause of woe

"It is from an old child's tale," Zello informed Kelton. "An old woman tries to protect her pies from the birds all the while forgetting about the wolf. It's meant to teach about not putting all your efforts into one thing, thus ignoring another."

"It is pleasant to the ear," Kelton said. There was a freedom to singing. Voices joined together uncaring where the wind takes it. It worked as well in the countryside as it did on a ship. Kelton joined the chorus when it came around again. It didn't matter that he was unpracticed, nor that it made Zello laugh. Filgot hid his smile as best he could. His struggles to remain commanding made Kelton sing louder.

Kelton was tasked with counting boxes once the price was agreed. Corn was a strange thing. Each a forearm long, it came in a stiff leafy wrapping. Grew that way, the farmer said when Kelton questioned. Golden hair protruded out one end, and it had more weight than expected. There was nothing like it in Anagoria.

The farm's coppers filled the boxes, then hefted and dumped them into the wagon. Each box had to be agreed upon by Kelton and the farmer's silver. It wasn't an exact measurement but quickly done. The silver, a woman with her long gray hair pulled back and tied in a tail, would overfill each box enough to cease any disagreement as to any space open at the bottom. Kelton had shaken two of the first batches and found they settled slightly, but never enough to drop the corn below the rim. It was an honest transaction. Seven boxes per wagon.

To Kelton's dismay, there was no time to tour the farm. It was larger than any he had seen in Anagoria. It was Filgot that reminded Zello of the sun's passing and his desire not to travel at night. Kelton thought it had more to do with the strange metal tools that lay about. Some were spear-like and could be useful as a weapon. Still no trust. Kelton decided to sing louder on the way back.

They were well past the extent of the farm and deep into where the trees bordered the road when three men walked out of the forest a few wagon lengths ahead. They were poorly clothed in well-weathered colors, hair and beards as wild as the bushes they had appeared from. With laden wagons and horses not bred for speed, the drivers were forced to slow.

"Stay seated," Filgot said as he stood. He waved for Taggert in the rear wagon to come forward. The two walked in front of the horses.

"It is a fine day," Filgot called to the odd men. "Is there some help you seek?" The men began approaching. Their eyes were abnormal and wide with sunken cheeks on ashen faces. One had untended sores above his eye. They all had awkward grins on their faces.

"Viners," Zello whispered to Kelton. Kelton had no idea what the word meant, but he understood the tone. There was worry about it.

"We be taking the man in the pretty clothes," the man in the middle said, raising his arm. There was a sword in his hand, and it pointed at Zello. "The property and wagons as well." The other two men displayed their swords. An odd feeling sent a chill over Kelton's skin. He looked into the trees, left and right. There was nothing to see, yet the atmosphere was oppressive. It had the flavor of his second sight, yet no definition. Three was not their full number. Filgot produced his sword, a move copied by Taggert with less confidence.

"I know what you seek, and these wagons contain none of it," Filgot said. The men he confronted looked emaciated, yet held their swords with strength and confidence. There was no fear in their movements.

"Run to your master," the man in the middle said. "If he returns with enough gold, he may reclaim what is now ours."

"What's left of it," the man on the left said, which brought out odd laughter in the other two.

"Mayhap, send you back with the pretty one's head," the one on the right added. "That will speed the coin. I could use a set of clothes as fine as his." More laughter.

"Be on your way, or forfeit your own heads," Filgot growled as he took a fighting stance. Snickering, seven more disheveled men emerged from the trees to stand on the edge of the road. Three on Taggert's side, and four on Filgot's. To his credit, Filgot didn't retreat, only his head turned slightly to better view the growing threat.

"Steady, Taggert," Filgot said. Taggert wasn't so steadfast. He had taken a few steps back, and his sword had a tremor to it. There were too many blades, and Kelton could feel the fear growing in the wagons. His own included.

"Stay," Zello ordered below his breath, then he too stood. "I will remain, but the wagons and the rest will continue. My father will pay well for my return." He dismounted and moved to the front. "Enough to keep you in dreamvines for a season."

"Nay," the disheveled man in the middle announced. "It all stays."

"Pleasures," another of the dirty men said with a snicker.

"Aye," another said. "We'll taste your property to hurry the coin along." Laughter rose from the rest of the men. Whimpering started in the wagons. Filgot's sword rose higher. Kelton was sure he meant to die before he'd let the carts, and the people in them, be taken. Taggert was terrified, still yielding ground but keeping himself between Zello and the men. Ten swords against two, it would be a massacre. Kelton swallowed his fear, forcing it into is churning gut. He rose with a mask of confidence he had seen Gossamer wear so many times.

"Stay down!" Zello called out.

"Nay," Kelton announced loudly. The sickly men's attention moved to him. Filgot snorted as if he expected such a thing, treachery from a slave. "My bargain is with your father. I will not return without you, nor let any of his property come to harm." Kelton smiled when he had the eyes of all the attackers. An audience that would make Gossamer proud. Kelton leaped off the wagon.

"It is my vow to Filgot that hinders me," Kelton said as he walked with a swagger toward the front. He scanned the men before them, turning his head proudly to display his scar. "Must I wait for you to fall, Filgot?" One of the dirty men on Taggert's side leaned to another to whisper. His eyes never leaving Kelton.

"Get back in the wagon," Filgot ordered, turning as if Kelton was another risk.

"Nay," Kelton said, turning his head about, again scanning the odd-looking men. Their confidence was beginning to weaken. "When you fall, my vow is undone. I'll retrieve your sword and end these...these...are these men or ghosts?" He waved his hand at four of them as if a sword were attached. One flinched. There was more whispering. Gossamer couldn't have done it better.

"Kelton, we can't afford to risk a picture mind," Zello said, the first to catch on. Three of the men stepped backward, the ones closest to Kelton who could see his scar well. It took a moment for the performance to sink into Filgot's untrusting mind. Taggert was taken in by the act, retreating behind Kelton. It was a gamble, but better than two swords against ten.

"I release you from your vow," Filgot said grudgingly, his body turning back toward the real threat. Kelton smiled and held out his hand to Taggert. It took all Kelton had learned from Gossamer to not let his terror show. Taggert handed his sword over willingly.

"Ahh, it feels good to hold a blade again." Kelton bounced on his knees and swung the blade about to loosen up. More show. "I do miss my heavy one though." He moved up next to Filgot, a little more than an arm's length away to allow them to protect each other's back. "The light blades of these lands tend to get stuck in bone and slow my timing."

"Just twist your wrist when you retrieve it," Filgot said, surprising Kelton. Kelton had no idea if light blades got stuck in bone, or if Filgot's remedy was correct. It was spoken as if it were knowledge traded between great warriors. Filgot could act. Two of the attackers turned and ran. The others were more hesitant.

"I will try that," Kelton said, holding the sword out and snapping his wrist in practice. Another of the bandits disappeared into the woods. The story of the scarred demonic sword wheeling picture mind had made it into these parts.

"Come," Kelton said, his free hand inviting the men in front, the leaders of the ragtag group of ghosts. "I haven't lifted a blade since the ship and am out of practice. You could get lucky."

"Try not to kill them all," Zello said. "Father will want to know who would try to harm house Tarvakian." Naming the house was all the leaders could take. House Tarvakain's picture mind was armed and before them, ready for battle. The story was doing the work of twenty soldiers. The ghost-like leaders drifted backward, eyes never leaving Kelton as they disappeared into the trees with the rest of the men at their heels. Kelton voiced his annoyance at the lack of practice to make sure they didn't try to find courage in the trees.

"All-Father!" Zello said, the air he had held leaving his lungs loudly.

Filgot turned, his sword still ready. He regarded Kelton, then made an internal decision and sheathed his blade. "Sticks in bone?"

"It came to mind," Kelton said. His hands started to shake as his stomach released pent-up fear. He returned the blade to Taggert, who was shaking worse. "The twisting part worked well."

"How many could you have taken?" Filgot asked.

"One, mayhap two if I was lucky," Kelton replied. Trust required truth. His stomach churned, and he fought it back down. Fear was stirring his insides and had no place for it to go. It expected a fight that never happened.

"But...you came forward? The stories of you..." Taggert said with surprise.

"It matters not what I believe," Kelton said. He pointed toward the woods. "It's what they believed that mattered." They sounded like Rolic's words. "The story is bigger than I am."

"I have defied you and refused to remain seated, Master," Kelton said to Zello. "And you as well, Filgot. It was done as a ruse yet I know it straddles the limits of my bargain. I will accept my due, but do not act harshly on Yanda for my actions."

"What?" Zello said.

"I saw or heard no defiance," Filgot said with a grin.

"I believe Kelton is seeing and hearing things. The onset of illness by all accounts," Zello said as if his discussion with Filgot wasn't heard by all.

"Rest, sir. It's what cures most illness," Filgot added knowingly.

"Aye, two days should do it, don't you think?"

"He'll need someone to nurse him through."

"Aye. Let me see...I could task that new woman...what is her name?"

"Yanda, sir."

"Ahh, Yanda. She could take him to the bathing house and keep him warm."

"Aye, sir. I'll set a guard to make sure they are not disturbed. Warmth and privacy are what he'll need."

"Then it's settled," Zello said, turning to Kelton with a large smile. "Two days, no duties accept what Yanda may desire."

"A...a reward?" Kelton asked. The least he expected was his vow to never defy them again.

"It is my job, and Filgot's, to protect you and the others. We were about to fail in that duty. The defiance would have been to do nothing when something could have been done." Zello said as he placed his hand on Kelton's shoulder. There was pride in the hand, and it soaked into Kelton in a pleasing way.

"Taggert, get these wagons moving. We have stayed here too long already," Filgot ordered. "Will you walk with me a moment?" he asked Kelton. Kelton nodded at the request, dumbfounded it wasn't an order. They moved down the road in front of the slow-moving wagons. Filgot's eyes scanned left and right looking for more threats as they walked. He waited until the others were out of earshot before speaking.

"I spoke with someone stuck by your sword. A sailor whose wound was real enough and whose words I trust. He told me of your skill with a blade." Filgot sighed. "The way you held the sword today was skillful enough, yet you tell me you would have fallen to those viners. I was forced to trust you, and it was for the better." He shook his head. "They are strange contradictions. Tell me, does my friend lie?"

"Nay, though he may embellish the tale," Kelton replied. He too sighed deeply. Trust is a hard thing. "It is a skill I no longer possess."

"You have forgotten in a month's time?"

"It is difficult to explain. Something I was born with, and tied to the land I was born in. The farther I am from that land, the weaker it becomes. On that ship, it was more sluggish than in the past, though I could still feel things that made swordplay easy, and there was great anger helping it along. Here, I am no better than any other man."

"A picture mind is always better than other men," Filgot disagreed.

"It's nothing but a trick of memory. Another thing I was born with," Kelton said.

"The All-Father has blessed you twice then."

"In my land, they say it is the Goddess." Kelton shrugged. "All-Father, Goddess - to me it has all been a curse." He smiled. "Then I came to house Tarvakian. I imagined slavery as some kind of great burden, yet it feels much different. Though I could have done without the lashing."

"You would have died to protect Zello," Filgot said. Kelton sensed he was looking for verification. Something to attach his trust too. Kelton looked back at the wagons filled with property and corn. Zello rode next to the driver watching Kelton and Filgot converse.

"You and Zello would have died for us," Kelton said. Filgot nodded.

"In truth," Kelton continued. "I would have done it for anyone one of them. For the horses, if it came to it. I am tired of people taking things that don't belong to them."

"You were taken," Filgot pointed out. Kelton looked back at Zello again. He thought of Yanda leaning against him and weaving his hair in the morning. Of all the wonderful new things he had seen, and the things he had yet to see. Warm floors and Beldin bringing tea every night.

"Aye, and I owe a ship's Captain for that," Kelton said. "Then I was chosen by Master Tarvakian. It is a strange thing to be owned. Stranger still to think kindly about that owner. I believe my life is better here."

It was many steps before they spoke again. Kelton's mind was still digesting his words, amazed that he admitted he was better off as a slave. Living in the forest with Gossamer was good, when they weren't thieving or dodging King and Brethren. There was no running or hiding now, though sheltering with Juno was a fond memory. Filgot seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"What is a viner?" Kelton asked when it seemed time to speak again.