"You can teach me about locked wrists?" the woman asked Kelton as they walked deeper into the forest. Kelton was busy marking what landmarks he could in his mind. With Cardin leading the way, they were all three carrying sacks of food over their shoulders. The rest of the band stayed behind to monitor Filgot.

"Aye, and a few other things," Kelton replied. They passed a half-dead tree, one set of branches devoid of leaves and reaching skeleton-like toward the sky, the others full as if unbothered by the slow death. Another feature easily remembered.

"I am called Beany," she said with an honest smile. Kelton smiled in return. "I have lived in these woods for more than a year." She looked about as if she owned the trees. "It is home now."

"What house did you run from?" Kelton asked. Beany's smile disappeared.

"You assume much," Beany said. She shifted the bags on her shoulder and started walking faster. Kelton matched her pace.

"There were two necks among you still discolored by the wear of a collar," Kelton said. "Your clothes have never seen a city or any of its skilled tailors. It is my guess you and yours have only begun to learn the skills of leatherwork. I can think of no good reason for a free woman to steer clear of civilization, or a good set of britches."

Beany looked down at her clothes, and her lips tightened as if she'd been insulted.

"You don't miss much," Cardin chimed in. "You can see why your wagon has caused us issue. Not so much you, but your taskmaster. He is a thorn that must be dealt with." He looked back from the front of the line of three. "You could always shake off your shackles and join us."

"It is a pleasant thought," Kelton said. He didn't want Cardin to think there was no possibility. "There are collards who depend upon me, I wish no harm to them, you, or anyone else, including my taskmaster." Cardin's eyebrows rose before he turned back and continued leading the way.

The route they were taking was not well-trodden. No path, yet their direction was unerringly west toward the dying sun. Cardin and Beany did not seem concerned with the failing light, which meant they did not have far to go, or that the landmarks they followed were as paved roads to them.

Kelton smelled the fires before their dancing light could be seen. There were three well-fed flames that he spotted as they emerged from the trees and into an open area bordered by a lake. The still water had begun to reflect the new stars. On the edge of the trees, hovels were built of wood with thatched grass roofs. The fires were a distance from the homes on the lakeside. Around each fire were a handful of people, some children, some talking, some laughing. Overall, it was a welcoming sight.

"Freetown," Beany announced. Her face was shadowed by the growing darkness, yet Kelton could see the pride in her eyes. He had miscalculated. There was more to protect than he had guessed. Children meant families, which in turn indicated there were risks they weren't willing to take. Kelton began to fear for Filgot. He started worrying for himself as well, for he couldn't abandon his guard.

"Paragon!" Beany called out and hurried to the second of the fires. "We have brought fruit." She removed one of the bags off her shoulder and held it forth. "Oranges, a whole bag." Excitement brewed among the children, and they hurried toward Beany.

Kelton took a quick tally, more than twenty. Master had been correct, they did not know enough. Kelton had assumed it would only be a few, and hadn't considered little ones, nor escaped property. This was a village, and everyone was vested in its survival. Only secrecy could insure it.

A tall thin man rose from the fire and embraced Beany. Their lips met, and the sacks fell to the ground as she cradled him in return. Kelton slowed as he remembered holding the point of his blade to her chest. It was not the first impression he desired to make with her mate.

"Slow," Paragon ordered the children who were inspecting the bag they suspected held the oranges. He smiled as he looked over Beany's shoulder, their cheeks still melded together. "What do we do with such treats?"

"Split them," one of the older boys said. "Equal as we can." One of the young girls was struggling not to continue toward the bag.

"Aye, equal," Paragon said. He turned Beany around, his arm still wrapped about her waist.

"I have counted them," Beany said. "There are enough for each to have one, and the extras we can divide later." She nodded to the children. "You may gather for you and your family. Bortin, you count them out," she instructed the older boy. The bag was attacked in an orderly, albeit excited fashion as Kelton and Cardin approached.

"And who is this?" Paragon asked.

"Kelton," Beany replied. "He is the one we have heard about. The one who fought off a ship and ended a hundred viners. Knocked my sword away without effort. Thought he'd run me through for a moment." Paragon's hand left Beany's waist, and he walked toward Kelton.

"And what is a collared doing with a blade?" Paragon asked.

"Not of house Barrenkee," Cardin interrupted as he added his sacks next to the ones Beany had dropped on the ground. "We hold his guard on the road. This one has promised that I will meet any fate that is delivered onto his taskmaster."

"The same wagon we eyed two days ago?" Paragon asked.

"It is the wagon," Beany said. "They knew part, but not all of what is necessary. It is why they made it as far as they did. He desires to speak to you and risked much to do it."

"And why would a collared wish to speak to me?" Paragon asked Kelton. He held out his hands and indicated the sacks still on Kelton's shoulders.

"I do not know anymore," Kelton admitted as he handed over the sacks. "I had assumed much and never thought to see this." He indicated the tiny town. "In truth, I was expecting a small band working for coin. I did not think of escaped property, nor the count I see here. Certainly not the little ones."

"He has a quick mind," Cardin said with a shrug. "We told him nothing."

"There is a bit of venison left," Paragon said and pointed toward the fire he had risen from. "You are welcome to it."

"I thank you," Kelton said, and they moved together toward the fire. Other adults rose to make room, some heading for the bags. Inventory and allocation, Kelton suspected. Rough-hewn tree stumps were used as seats. Kelton found them oddly comforting. The fire, the lake, the stars, the lack of city smell. There was a warmth in the memories it invoked.

The venison also invoked memories. It tasted as dry and earthy as Kelton remembered, and required extra chewing. His taste buds had become snobbish after feasting on the juicy meats from the Tarvakian kitchen. Nevertheless, he smiled as he consumed what was given him.

"There is corn," A man called out with excitement.

"Oranges and corn," Paragon said with humor in his tone. "It is if you intended to buy our favor with treats."

"Aye, it was part of the plan," Kelton said, wiping deer grease from his chin. "I grew up in a forest, not unlike this one. I know the value of something fresh and sweet to those who must forage."

"Cardin has told me you hesitate to join us. Is your life so good under the lash?"

"It is a matter of degrees, is it not," Kelton said. "I am owned, and I dislike the idea of being so. Yet, I do not hate the man who owns me. You are not owned, yet you hide among the trees, unable to present yourself to others. Are we not both imprisoned?"

Paragon laughed in a bass-deep way that belied his thin frame. Beany leaned into him, her smile marred by the orange juice that had leaked from her mouth.

"He has the right of it, does he not?" Beany chuckled.

"It is my guess that Barrenkee holds you in his debt," Kelton continued. "You do his bidding, and he fails to mention Freetown to the king. From time to time, he drops some food to keep your bellies sated, and in turn, you allow him to own the road to Mila."

"Quick minded to be sure," Paragon said. "We foraged, as you say, in others' wagons in the past. Barenkee tired of it and sent enough guards sneaking behind to catch thieves. Instead, he found us. Thieves to be sure, but out of necessity. Escaped property can't be walking into the market after all."

"In a way, are you not still owned?" Kelton asked.

"Aye, in some ways." Paragon sighed. "Our days are ours. There is the task of the road, but it is a narrow one and takes a few of us to manage." He looked about the town. "There are little ones here who know nothing of bondage. I cherish their ignorance and do all I can to maintain it."

"So, you find Barrenkee to be a lenient owner?"

"He is a pig," Beany spat in anger. "Nay, I would rather be indebted to a pig." Paragon reached out and calmed her by placing his hand on her arm. He smiled at her, then caressed the side of her face which brought back her back to normalcy.

"The negotiations, as Barrenkee called them, had high costs." Paragon bit his lip in a grimace before he continued. "There are privileges given his guards. To protect the little ones, it was agreed too."

Beany's bouncing anger now made sense. Her statement of Yanda's hatred was well within her realm of experience. Barrenkee demands power and proves it to all he has under his foot. She deserves her contempt, as does Felicity and all who lived under Barrenkee's heel.

"My sorrows, my lady," Kelton said, with a bow of his head. He meant it.

"Ladies don't spread their legs for pigs," Beany said, her anger flaring once again.

"I know a woman named Joycelyn," Kelton said softly. He remembered the way Gossamer could get people to drop emotion and listen by lowering his voice. "She spent the start of her life owned in the way you speak of. Like you, she broke from it. I saw her stand before a man all others feared, and offer her life in an attempt to save her daughter. Like you, it is her sacrifice that made her more of a lady than the most highborn of princesses."

"Did it work?" Beany asked.

"Nay," Kelton said. "The man meant to kill her and her family, intent on taking her daughter as he originally planned. It is not the outcome, it is the path she took that I admire."

"She died?"

"Nay." Kelton took a deep breath as the vivid memory of the bloodied ground returned. "The man I speak of was busy, and I crept up unseen. Joycelyn faced him, small blade to his sword, and distracted him long enough." He shook his head. "It is not a pleasant memory."

"You killed him?"

"And lost all I had eaten into the dirt," Kelton said as he nodded. "It was the end of my youth. No longer was the world a perfect place."

"It has always been far from perfect," Paragon said. He pulled Beany close, and she leaned her head onto his shoulder. "Isn't that right, my lady?" Beany smiled in response to his question.

"I can not let you harm Filgot?" Kelton said.

"Filgot?" Paragon asked.

"The guard who rode with me. He knows nothing of this place or the people in it. At worst, he will mention bandits and nothing more. I know it is a risk for this place, but you must trust."

A scream past the far end of the town echoed across the lake and into the trees. Another occurred and was cut short as if muzzled by force. Kelton stood. He knew the sound. He had heard it once before from his own lungs and that of others. The lesson brought out that sound.

"Another visitor," Paragon said with misplaced calmness. "They will quiet him in time."

"Are you no better than an owner?" Kelton pointed toward the sound. "Is that the cost of the freedom you cherish?"

"Nay," Paragon replied. "That is the sound of someone owned that will soon be free, or perish in the attempt." Another half scream, weaker this time, rolled across the lake. "Others here have been through as much."

"It is not what you believe it is," Beany said, lifting her head from Pargon's shoulder. "Do you wish to see the cost of true freedom? The breaking of the vine is not a pretty sight."

"The breaking of the vine?"

"You don't want to do it twice," Cardin said, surprising Kelton who hadn't sensed him behind. Cardin moved next to Paragon and sat down. "It is like your skin is on fire and can't be extinguished. Your insides boil and light bores holes in your eyes. Had I blade, I would have gladly left this world."

"It is easier now," Beany said. "We have a drought that allows the body to sleep away most of it. Though too much, and the body never wakes. Too little, and well...you heard when it is too little."

"You have cured viners?" Kelton asked.

"Failed some," Paragon replied. "Others, like Cardin, are made anew."

"I would like to see," Kelton said to Beany. "I was told it is not possible." Beany's eyebrows rose, and she looked to Paragon who shrugged and nodded. She stood and signaled Kelton to follow.

Well past the last fire, far along the bank of the lake, another thatched hut sat alone in the darkness. Beany lead Kelton into the blackness of the building and then paused to allow their eyes to adjust to a barely discernible glow. Labored breathing could be heard from the far side of the building.

"He is stubborn, this one," a man said. Kelton could see a shape moving toward them. "I fear to give him any more, yet he fights off the normal dose. We may lose him." The form walked past Kelton, and a low light began to flicker. The man unshielded a candle that sat upon a makeshift table. Hewn stumps served many purposes in Freetown.

"Kelton desires to see your work, Varling," Beany said, indicating Kelton with her hand. Varling bore a scar similar to Kelton's, though it was much broader and bore more rough skin along its path across his cheek.

"Still collared?" Varling asked, raising the candle.

"Aye," Kelton replied, ignoring any explanation. "You are said to cure the vine?"

"The desire can't ever be cured," Varling said. "Only the need can be removed." He waved his hand toward the bed that held the heavy breathing. "Sometimes the need holds on strong, choosing death over separation." He led them toward the bed. A man greased in sweat lay with eyes closed, his mouth open and sucking air. The side of his head, near the hairline, was matted in blood. The body looked near its last gasp.

"You beat them?" Kelton asked, pointing at the wound.

Varling chuckled and shook his head. "The need did that. We found him bashing his head against a tree trying to break free of the curse the only way he knew. His fits break open the wound now and again. It will be cleaned when he settles." Varling lifted the blanket that covered the man. Ropes secured the viner's wrists, the other ends disappearing below the bed. "We do have to restrain. It would be crueler not to."

"And if he survives, he will still desire the vine?"

"Aye," Varling said after a deep breath. "The vine removes all the pains of the world. In its throes, a wonderful peace occurs." He shook his head. "And then it extracts its costs." He pointed at the man.

"It was once your master," Kelton surmised.

"Aye." Varling ran his hand along his scar. "I too sought an easy relief, though I chose to throw myself off a precipice." He shrugged. "Wasn't high enough it seems."

"How many have you saved?"

"Four here - he will be the fifth if he survives," Varling said. "Another two at..." He stopped speaking when Beany shook her head.

"I have not seen all of Freetown," Kelton surmised. It was worse than he had first thought. There was even more at risk than his last calculation. Filgot and, by extension, he were in real trouble. Paragon would be a fool to allow Filgot to return to the kingdom's influence.

"Sorry," Varling said to Beany.

"His mind is too quick," Beany said. She turned to Kelton. "Have you seen enough?" It was a question that allowed a single response. It was she who had shown enough.

"Aye," Kelton said. "I thank you, Varling. I wish you luck with this one." Varling nodded with half a smile as Beany led Kelton out.

"I fear for Filgot," Kelton whispered as they walked to Paragon's fire.

"He is a guard," Beany said as if that justified any or all actions that could be taken. Cardin and Paragon were deep in conversation when Kelton and Beany returned to their seats around the fire. The words stopped when they spotted Kelton approaching. There were other men situated near the fire, men that hadn't been there before. They expected disagreement.

"You still feel the draw of the vine?" Kelton asked Cardin. Stalling would give Kelton time to think. He needed more time.

"Aye, every day," Cardin admitted. "It is a weaker pull than it once was. The memory of the costs holds more weight. With a clear mind, it is easy enough to ignore when seen."

"Seen?" Kelton asked. Cardin looked embarrassed as he glanced between Beany and Paragon. Kelton's query was met with silence and Paragon's stone glare at Cardin. Kelton's mind leaped from possibility to possibility. The vine could grow near, cultivated as one would corn. Although, it didn't seem correct for those who fight its curse to allow it so near. At least not willingly.

"The missing cargo," Kelton said to himself. It made more sense than anything else. Only one man could force such a thing on ex-viners. Kelton's eyes widened. Barrenkee had a protected path for the vine, allowing him advantage in a trade that was becoming illicit and still demanded. The profits would be immense and growing. He remembered his conversation with the Princess, the promises extracted from the owners to not deal in the vine. If Kelton's thoughts were correct, Barrenkee had lied to the king.

"Barrenkee ships vine," Kelton said out loud. He didn't require verification, it was written on their faces.

"Cardin," Paragon grunted.

"It slipped," Cardin argued. All Kelton could think about is how Filgot's troubles doubled again. Barrenkee would have been adamant that not one breath of what was happening would find the outside world.

"I wish to think," Kelton said, rising from his makeshift seat. "May I walk the shore?" he asked, indicating the lake.

"Aye," Paragon replied.

Kelton ambled along the shoreline. Some of the men mirrored his movements, albeit far away from the shore. He was free to walk, just not leave.

The lake was unmoving, as was the air. Crystal clear water blended into the rocky shore. Even in the starlit night, Kelton could see below the surface almost an arm's length out. He could see why the site was chosen. Well sheltered by trees, a good source of water, and a reasonable distance from the road. He picked up a smooth rock and rolled it in his hand. The heft of it centered his mind.

If house Tarvakian could figure out Barrenkee's vine trade, in time others will as well. Too many people involved to keep the vile secret. Of course, his property won't say a word. They had been well conditioned with fear. His guards are another story. Kelton slapped the rock into his other hand. The guards were given privileges often. Felicity said it was nightly and Barrenkee kept a constant flow of new property to sate their desires. He was buying their loyalty, and with it, their silence.