Kelton moved, bending like grass in the wind, as the wooden sword nearly caught him stagnant. Lin'cy shifted and brought his other blade in a thrust. Kelton bent at the waist, then changed the direction of his swirling blade and countered. Wood on wood shocked his wrist, yet still, he moved as he had been taught. Stillness was for the grave or those who intended to bed there.

Lin'cy arched away from Kelton's counter jab and created a flourish of movement with the blade in his right hand. Kelton recognized it as an exaggerated move meant to attract from Lin'cy's spinning left sword. Kelton dropped low as the expected strike found the air over his head. He reached out with his faux sword and tapped Lin'cy's exposed thigh. Lin'cy released both his weapons, dropping them to the ground in defeat. His laughter was as gold to Kelton's ears.

"I fear to release your other hand," Lin'cy said.

"You have taught my left well," Kelton said. His right hand still tied tight to his waist. Vil'anous had been correct; Kelton had been a one-handed fighter. After many moons of lessons, Lin'cy had broken the weakness of Kelton's left arm to the point he trusted it as much as the right. Maybe, more so.

"I did not hold back, Fire-head."

"Aye, and nor did I," Kelton said, his smile growing with pride. "I can feel the flow of it, as you said I would." It was a feeling of complete control. Every strike could be retracted without losing command of the next movement. Openings were growing larger, and futile missteps easily ignored. Kelton wondered if he could ever spar slowly again. It was if he had been mired in mud his whole life, and now it had been washed clean.

"You do not hear me," Lin'cy said. "I did not hold either sword in check." He smiled as if it was gold to him as well. "You bested two blades that had full intent of marking your skin. It was not a lesson; it was a battle I meant to win."

"Is it me, or the teacher?" Kelton asked. The swordplay was getting easier with each bout. There was a rhythm to it he had never seen before, a beat his body fully embraced. His eyes no longer watched the blades fearing their tips. He concentrated on the muscles moving at the shoulders that announced the next strike, the shifting of the chest that mapped the future location of his opponent. All of the body was connected and the hands were the last to move, so they were the most useless to view. "Mayhap, I am but a tool of the master." Kelton bowed his head in respect.

"A tool of the All-Father," Lin'cy corrected. He chuckled as he retrieved his wooden blades. "Free your hand, and we will see if two blades ruin your balance."

It did not. Two weapons only made the bouts shorter.

Kelton stood in a long line of warriors, each emotionally attached to the others as if they were one. There was a power surging through him, the potential of many moving as a single entity. The shared purpose invigorated him with a feeling of invulnerability. He knew it was an illusion, yet he embraced it with all his heart. He could see the same in Farni, who stood next to him. She bore it with more beauty.

A tall woman, Kay'nee, moved in front of the warriors wearing her twin-tails. Kelton felt his muscles tighten in anticipation. It was the dance of blades. Yinsee Tor, they called it; shared-wind. It was a bonding ritual, something done so all would trust the others. The twin-tails of the tribe singing together. Kay'nee turned her back to the warriors, her single braid swung, then stilled between the swords sheathed on her back. There would be no warning, just the beginning.

Kay' nee's hands moved like lightning, they grasped the pommels of her twin-tails and pulled them from their homes along her back. The entire line of warriors mirrored her movement in perfect synchronicity. The dance had begun, and Kelton's joy flowed with it.

Swords swung in unison, spinning dangerously close at incredible speed. The tribe's feet moved forward, each step accompanied by a thunderous yell as if meant to unroot trees. Kelton moved his foot inward, crossing over the other as the warrior to his left swung his blade where Kelton's thigh had just been. A movement mirrored perfectly by Farni, who cleared the way for Kelton's blade.

No sword stopped moving, each flowing as if held by the same hand. Kelton imagined the horror it would raise in an enemy, to see such cohesion and recognize an unstoppable wave of determination. The yells became a chant, as bodies shifted and blades declared ownership of the very air. He was a piece of it, a vital link in an insuppressible power. At that moment, the world was no longer broken.

It ended in an instant. Swords finding sheathes and warriors dropping to a knee as one. Kay'nee rose with a smile and yelled her pleasure. Kelton joined the chaotic cheer that grew, happy disorder after the perfection that is the shared-wind.

"It is glorious," Farni said. She pulled Kelton's forehead to hers. "Glorious."

"Aye," Kelton agreed. He liked Farni's strength. There was happiness in it as if the pains of the world were nothing but feathers that could be brushed aside. She took such joy in things, and it was infectious. As she was in the habit of doing, she caressed the scar on his cheek, then ran her fingers along the ones the beast gave her. It was a gesture meant to declare their sameness. Kelton smiled, and for the first time, duplicated her caress.

"My bonded one," Farni whispered with a sweetness that belied her deadly skill with the twin-tails. She smiled, her eyes glowing as if the world was born anew.

Kelton had convinced himself that it was the desire to learn Nagada tactics that made him stay beyond the start of the dry season. The battle strategies were unique and moved like the swords they carried, shifting in directions he had never envisioned. Bows, shields, spears each had their weaknesses, and the Nagada saw them all. They had no need for such tools when each individual was like the wind, and two Nagada an unstoppable tempest.

It was the look in Farni's eyes that made him rethink his reason for staying. If the world thought him dead, maybe it wasn't a vile thing to allow it to believe the lie. The Nagada were a good people, not perfect, but better than most. Happiness could be found in its embrace - in Farni's embrace. He would miss the library, and...Juno. Kelton separated from Farni.

"Next day, she will be farther," Farni said with the knowing grin that had begun to seat itself deep in Kelton's mind. If he stayed much longer, the rains would commence, and he would lose himself in the luxuries her smiles were promising. It could be a good life.

"Come," Farni said, holding out her hand. Kelton took it without thought. Their hands were comfortable together. "We will bathe and dream of the next day."

"Mother, you must drink," Juno said. She pulled Floren's head up from the pillow. Like the other sick ones, heat spilled from Floren's skin.

"Stop fussing," Floren said with a weakness Juno had never seen in the woman before.

"You know you must drink." Juno struggled to not sound frustrated. Four of the cursed were bedridden with sickness, three others now recovered. She tried to smile. "It is what you taught me." Juno tilted the mug and poured a small amount of water into Floren's mouth.

"Enough," Floren said after a weak cough. "I will be well enough when the sun rises. Let me sleep."

"One more sip," Juno insisted. Floren complied with a hard swallow then laid back on the bed. Juno thought it would take more than one sun to bring Floren back full. Maybe two or three. "Sleep now. I'll check on you later."

"How are the others?" Floren asked, her red eyes closing as she spoke.

"Same as you, though all will live," Juno replied. Floren nodded with eyes closed. Juno blew out the only candle and left Floren to sleep. If it was the same sickness, sleep would come in bursts, as would more expelling.

The next few days would be difficult. The tithe was short since the sickness had idled many of the house over the past moon. Juno considered leaving for the tavern in search of necessary coin. It was late, well past a good time to begin, and she'd have to leave the sick in hands less skilled. Better to send the unskilled to please patrons as they wallowed in the last of their mugs.

"Mother!" Cinty called as ran down the hall of the nighthouse. Juno held up her hand to stall Cinty and shushed her with a finger.

"She rests," Juno whispered to the frail-looking woman. Cinty was the last one to be cursed and added to their ranks, and that was three winters ago. Another reason the tithes were more difficult. "I am second. There is no need to wake the sick."

"They are here," Cinty said, her voice straining to find a lower volume. She pointed back to the entry room.

"Who is here?"

"The King's men, and a Brother," Cinty said. "I am to bring mother to them."

"Here? Now?"

Cinty nodded, her wild curls bouncing as if they were as panicked as Juno felt.

"It is too early," Juno said to herself. She felt something cold crawl up her spine. There had been stories of the nighthouses missing the tithe. Surely, they couldn't demand it early. She grimaced, knowing it would take much to gather it in the allotted time, much less two days before its due. They barely ate as it was. A deep breath helped steel her will. "Go, bring tea, or whatever it is that we now claim is tea."

Juno brushed off her skirts and straightened her hair as she walked down the hall. She brought forth all she had learned from Floren and decided it was best to emulate the woman. Strength and confidence would see them through.

"Your Eminence," Juno said with a bow when she entered. "We did not expect you so soon."

The white-robed Brother had black hair cropped short to his head. His cheeks pockmarked like one who had battled disease in youth. His hands were clasped behind his back. There was an impatient look in his eyes and in those of the two King's men who stood stoic behind him.

"Where is the mother of the house?"

"Ill, your Eminence. Like many in the house. It has run through us and should abate over the next moon." Juno felt the nerves on her skin ignite when it didn't seem to concern the Brother. "I am her second."

"You will bring her forth," the Brother demanded.

"Aye, your Eminence," Juno said, then added with more anger than she intended. "And she will cover your robes with the contents of her belly." She saw her mistake grow in the man's eyes. "She can barely walk. I am here in her stead." At least that was said with more reverence.

The Brother strode forth, almost floating in his robes. "You wish to be mother of this house?" He wore a vile smile as if the question held more than the obvious.

"I am second," Juno said, trying to force the fear from her voice. "It is my duty, not my desire."

"Duty?" the Brother said. He smelled of horse and travel as he circled around Juno. "It is because of the lack of duty to the Goddess that you are cursed." Juno shivered when she lost sight of the man, and thought it worse when he returned in front of her. She held her tongue and didn't question his reasoning, as wrong as it was.

"So be it," the Brother said. His hand rose up and encircled her chin. "The levy is due, young mother. I am here to retrieve it."

"You have come early, your Eminence." Juno couldn't help the shivers that ran down from her chin. Nor stop her watering eyes. Something was wrong - she could see that in his eyes. "It is short this day. Mayhap..."

"Short?" The Brother pushed her chin backward, causing her to stumble. Juno reached up to grasp his wrist in reflex. Her hands found air as he twisted position, and seized a handful of her hair. She gasped as he pulled her downward. "You wish to play as mother; then you shall pay as one."

"It...it is the illness, your..."

"Captain!" The Brother twisted Juno's hair, forcing her to turn oddly as he faced the King's men. "A lesson is needed. Set a pole in the square." He forced his hand, and Juno's head, forward. "Hang this one from it. We shall test her skin and see if it bleeds the coin the Goddess demands."

Juno started to plead, but it was cut short by the back of the Captain's hand. She didn't want to whimper as they dragged her from the house, yet her throat refused to listen. Her mind was jumping from horror to horror as she struggled to keep up with the Captain's pace.

"Wake the village," the Captain ordered the other soldier. "All will witness this."

"No!" Juno cried and tried to break away. The Captain struck her in the side, knocking the air from her body. She struggled to breathe as he bent her arm behind her and pushed her forward, one hand still entwined in her hair, pulling her head backward. Tears began to flow, a weakness she could not stop.

The pole was placed far quicker than Juno could have imagined. Nothing but a long tree trunk cleared of branches and thrust deep in a hole. A gap cut in the top allowed a rope to be hung, and to it, they bound her hands so that she was on her toes.

"I will find the coin," Juno pleaded. "There is no need for this." Her head was whipping around, trying to follow the pacing Brother. "Your Eminence, I beg of you." The Brother ignored her. "Surely, the Goddess would not..."

"Double the lashes," the Brother screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. "It is not you who speaks for the Goddess. This, you and all others will learn well, cursed-one."

Juno began to pull at the rope, desperately trying to free herself. She tried to hold back her voice, but a weak wail emerged as she imagined her coming fate. Once, long ago, she had witnessed such a thing. Death seemed mercy, and she wanted to embrace it. She had lived too long.

The King's men used blades to strip her to the waist as the village gathered, many confused and still in their nightwear. Juno lost control of her fear and begged to be forgiven, promising anything, everything for a reprieve. The Brother smiled as if her words furthered his enjoyment. He spoke of her house's failure to the growing crowd. The Goddess was not to be denied. To Juno's terror, some agreed.

"I am here!" A rasp filled shout came from behind Juno. She forced her head to turn. From the corner of her eye, she saw Floren limp forward, supported by Cinty. Floren's nightclothes were soiled with expelled sickness and dirt. "It is my...my house, your Eminence," Floren stuttered, then fell to her knees and crawled forward. "It...my...house...my lesson."

Juno watched as Floren tried to rise in her sickness. Floren would die on the pole, that Juno was sure of. She could not watch the one she thought of as family suffer such a thing. She had truly lived too long.

"I am second!" Juno announced loudly, forcing back the fear that was splintering her insides. "If the Goddess wishes my back, she shall have it." The Brother lost his smile. "I am ready, your Eminence." The last words spoken as if it were a curse. The Brother nodded to someone Juno couldn't see. A shadow painted by the central fire forecasted what was to come on the ground before her.

"No!" Floren screamed.

Juno heard the strike, and a moment passed while her mind considered what had happened. Then white heat spread like lightning across her back. It drove the air from her lungs as she tried to scream, though no sound but the echo of the whip filled the air. Women turned away as the shadow moved again. Her legs moved in a hopeless dance to avoid the blow. The sound of the whip tearing skin threw her head back as she screamed at the sky. She filled her lungs as the shadow moved again. Her mind jumped to the one thing that had kept her sane, and alive.

The scream that followed the third strike curdled the last of the righteousness in the village. It echoed off buildings and returned with a desperate force: one word, a prayer for salvation. Floren fell fetal and cried as Kelton's name reverberated through the trees.