Grag's cousin, Valick, was the quiet sort. It made for a long ride with Kelton attempting to start conversations and Valick thwarting it with single-word responses. The last night of their travels together, Kelton did find Valick's interest. The man had a strong knowledge of the care and feeding of hogs. Long descriptions of his sounder and the individual personalities followed. Kelton was intrigued that someone who grew swine for slaughter would trouble to name each beast, and identify their individual temperaments. The last day was less silent. Kelton need only ask a question about pigs, and lively talk would commence. They parted on amicable terms, which would please Heldi. A win in Kelton's mind.

Kelton strolled down the market stalls in Banyon Valley, a large village that lay three days' walk from house Tarvakian. The Summerfields had given him a few coins, some dried meat, and bread for the journey. He had eaten most of it during the wagon ride, and now he needed to restock, or forage.

A hooded table attracted Kelton's attention. A bearded man was laying out rows of sausage. Above him, dried meats hung in long strips. They were not blackened by brutal cooking and still held some of their original colors.

"Slow-smoked?" Kelton queried the proprietor as he pointed to the strips.

"Aye," the man said. "The best in these parts. Mayhap, all parts."

Kelton leaned forward and sniffed at the strips. He could smell the flavor, a sign it was well prepared. "I have three days of travel in front of me, and four coppers to eat on. I would prefer quality such as this if I can get enough to sustain me."

"Nay, a day at most," the man replied, shaking his head. He pointed farther down the road. "There be a green tarped stand a ways down. The woman there will trade her gristle for your coin. It will be enough to keep you sated, though bland it is."

"Then I must move on, and I fear my tongue will hate me for it," Kelton said with a respectful nod. He moved down the market, past a young boy selling blankets and an older man displaying intricately decorated vases. He was examining a table of well-sewn dolls when a crash of pottery attracted his attention.

"You fool!" the old man who was selling vases said. Behind the table a red-faced copper-collared woman was quickly picking up shattered shards. "You are not worth the food I feed you. Mayhap, I will sell you to Tarvakian!" Fear grew in the woman's face as if her master held a blade to her throat.

"I will make others, Master," the woman begged. "More than my quota, you will see." Kelton moved closer, the mention of Tarvakian seeming odd.

"One chance," the old man said. "I will see twice what you broke, and your quota by next market day."

"Aye, Master," the woman said. The relief on her face was evident. She gathered the rest of the broken pieces and ran off toward the wagons that were lined up well behind the stalls. The man smiled when her back was turned. His anger wasn't real, though she didn't know it.

"You have some fine jars," Kelton said as he reexamined the wares. "It is a shame your property has broken one."

"A cost of the trade, sir," the man said. "It happens from time to time. In truth, it was my fault for not arriving early and securing a location in the grass." The ground behind the stall was dried-hard dirt, no cushion for mishaps.

Kelton lifted one of the vases and examined it as if he had an interest. "I think your property will be more careful now."

The man chuckled. "Aye. It was an idle threat. I wouldn't sell an enemy to that monster, much less a talent like her."

Kelton smiled as if he knew all of what was implied. "I would hope you employ due care. What is the cost of this?" He held forth a small jar decorated with curved red lines, a pattern that almost mirrored the Nagada art hidden under his cloak.

"Five coppers," the man replied.

"Three."

"Four, and nothing less."

"Done," Kelton said. He could always forage as he and Gossamer had done for many years. After the exchange, Kelton continued down the line of stalls until no caring eyes would notice him walking toward the lined-up wagons. He maneuvered back toward the copper who had dropped the pottery.

"A difficult day, is it not?" Kelton asked.

"Aye, sir," the woman responded, surprised she was the target of his question.

"I wish a trade," Kelton said. "It will be an odd one, but I have my reasons."

"I will get my Master," she said and turned.

"Nay," Kelton said, lightly grasping her arm to stall her. "I wish to trade with you."

"I am property. I can not..."

"You can," Kelton said with his softest smile. He held forth the jar he had just bought. "Something to ease your new burden. In exchange, I wish only some knowledge."

"I don't..."

"I desire information on house Tarvakian," Kelton interrupted. "And you desire to be one jar ahead of your new quota. It is a simple trade." He put the jar in her hands.

"I have never been there," the woman said, still confused by the request.

"Then why do you fear it so?"

"All fear that cursed place," the woman said. "It is said that property is worked day and night, and the lesson dispensed often. They are ill-fed and weak, yet still, they must meet impossible quotas. Better to go to the mines."

"The mines?"

"Aye, at least you eat well."

"I have been gone for a long time," Kelton said. "Mayhap, too long. I knew house Tarvakian as a good house before I left. It is hard for me to see it as anything other."

The woman's voice dropped, and she leaned close. "It is said they lost someone, and it angered the Master. The rest of his property suffers for it now."

"One person? Evil is not born of that."

"A picture-mind, it is said." The woman was about to say more when her eyes grew as she reexamined Kelton. She took a step back, her hand cradling the jar as if he might take it back.

Kelton exposed his palms. "I mean you no harm. My sorrows, if you think so."

"Your hood, sir." She indicated she wanted him to lower it. He did.

"Are you..." She stepped forward and examined his scar. "You are dead, they say."

"You know of me?" Kelton asked as he raised his hood back over his red hair.

"Many talk of you," She said as comfort returned to her stance. "You made the kuzzles, and they say you cured the vine." She smiled. "And the story of you swording against a ship of sailors. Is it true?"

"How do you know such things?" Kelton asked with trepidation.

"It is said you did it for your woman. Property, like me." Her face lit up. "Are you going to save her now?"

Kelton hadn't considered Yanda. He imagined she would have declared her lineage and was long since home. In this new world, where house Tarvakian seemed to have changed, it may not be. And the copper believed Yanda was still behind Tarvakian walls. It angered him to think Yanda could now be a true prisoner.

"If need be," Kelton replied. "It is best if none know my whereabouts, nor our words together. It is why I spoke to you, and not your master."

"I will say nothing," the woman said.

"Then I am in your debt, my Lady," Kelton said with a small bow. He leaned in and whispered. "And know that your master has no intention of selling you. It was an idle threat."

"I know." She smiled. "It is best that I act if I don't. Things work better that way."

Kelton chuckled as they parted. The laughter inside died quickly as his mind returned to the new image of the house he once called home. Tarvakian had broken his vow to the Nagada. Lies and deceit did not fit the man he knew, but too many think it now rules his mind. Kelton's choices were becoming poor. He knew confronting Tarvakian was inevitable. What he would do if the man refused to enact the vow weighed heavily. If Yanda were imperiled, spiders-bite would speak for him. The Nagada ways had infiltrated his bones - he was done with inaction.

House Tarvakian had grown in size. Kelton moved along the treeline, examining the wall that surrounded the property. It stretched westward, a good thousand paces more than when he had left. Also, the stone wall was half-a-man higher, and the gates were uncharacteristically closed. Unfriendly at best. Nothing could be seen of the inside.

Patrols circled the fence line, each a pair of guards walking with heads up. There was no boredom in their movements as if they were tested often. Kelton did not recognize many of them, new hires sporting sheathed swords. Kelton found it odd. Maybe Tarvakian, or another of the house, didn't want to see them circling. Certainly, it would be more effective to patrol the inside of the wall, stopping property before they attempted escape. Or, perhaps there was an equal number on the inside as well.

Kelton moved to the back of the property, steering well clear of the guards' eyes. In preparation, he found sturdy deadfall and trimmed a pole from it, as thick as his arm and a body length long. He moved toward the clearing, dropping behind a full leafed bush and crawling to an obscured position, which gave him a good view of the wall and its protectors. He watched the doings with patience as the sun fell from the top of the sky and finished its journey beyond the horizon.

The back of the property was guarded less than the front. It wasn't a lack of patrols; it was the lack of attention in those patrols. They chose to become more social, patrols colliding to trade a few words where superiors wouldn't see. There were moments when Kelton could have run across the clearing and surmounted the wall. He would have to hope the pattern continued into the night. The other side of the wall was an unknown, and he required the cover of darkness to move to the main house unseen.

Kelton leaned back against a tree, adjusting his backside for comfort. The time of the waking bird, the Nagada called it; the moments before the sun began to brighten the horizon and start a new day. He would wait for attention to be at its weakest, when most minds were deep in sleep, and guards were struggling not to join them. He closed his eyes and rested, waiting to move when the world was least prepared.

Kelton woke later than desired. The eastern sky had the beginnings of the glow that signaled the sun's impending rebirth. He moved to the edge of the tree line and waited for a gap in patrols. As predicted, the exhausted guards had become lax, and two patrols delayed their travels for a conversation out of sight, beyond a turn in the wall. Kelton dropped his cloak and moved silently with his pole.

It took a moment to locate a notch in the rocks at the right height. Kelton wedged one end of the pole in the ground, the other against the wall, creating a temporary ramp. A quick run followed by a leap allowed him to grab the top of the wall. He was able to disturb the pole enough for it to fall to the ground and lose itself in the grass—all with hardly a sound.

Thankfully, Kelton found no interior guards near as he mastered the transition over the top. He let himself down the wall and moved to the closest building for cover. The smell of tanning hides wrinkled his nose as he transferred from the storage building to the tannery. In the weak light, he saw twin poles set in the courtyard, a space that was empty before his departure to the west. He had seen a similar setup before; the pain of the lesson still vivid in his mind. It verified what he was told and curdled his anger.

Kelton had to shrink into the shadows as four guards passed between the buildings. They moved in whispered conversation as if they desired not to disturb. It didn't seem to be a patrol, which was odd. Kelton got the sense they were at the end of their duties and meant to retire, or perhaps a break. Maybe they were about to start the day since they were headed to where property slept. The structure of guarding was challenging to understand. It seemed best to position more guards inside the compound, then outside. Kelton was sure the morning light would change that ratio.

The main house was dark as Kelton approached. He moved to the structure unhindered and looked up at the balcony that protruded from Tarvakian's room. It was a straightforward climb that should have been hindered by some means. Fear must be so rampant that Tarvakian believed himself safe from trivial attempts at revenge. A lesson post may be all the protection he needed.

Kelton climbed up the vine ridden trellis to the balcony. The window was cracked open, and he could feel heat from the hearth escaping. It must take some nerve to regulate temperature in such a risky way. Tarvakian's property must be cowed to the point Barrankee's property were. It was unnerving to undo one evil, only to allow the creation of another. Kelton quelled his growing anger and pulled open the shutter in slow silence. It was best to catch his old master unaware. Surprise would do much of the work.

The coals of the dying hearth gave the room a dim red glow. Kelton slipped in and moved to the bed. Nearest to him was Tarvakian, his snoring muffled and constant. The other side held Bellina; her back turned from Kelton's dark approach. She would flee for help when it began; something Kelton hadn't yet considered. Perhaps he should confront both since they shared a hand in the new house. He decided it was Heralic's vow that required first attention. Bellina was as much pawn as perpetrator.

Kelton withdrew one blade in silence as he hovered over Tarvakian. Here, half of spiders-bite was all that was needed. In one swift movement, Kelton placed one knee, along with his weight, across Heralic's chest, pinning one arm. At the same time, his blade moved to Tarvakian's neck in a threat meant to terrify the waking man. The metal clinked against something, a sound that caused Kelton to gasp. There was a collar about Heralic's neck. Copper, unless the weak light was playing tricks.

"Assassin!" The scream was from Bellina, though it wasn't her voice. Tarvakian began to struggle, fear growing in his movements. Kelton, so shocked by the collar, didn't see the attack from Bellina - a pillow thrust forward, followed her full weight. "Assassin!" It wasn't Bellina's voice; it was Eveyin's. Something was horribly wrong.

Kelton's mind stumbled through what he knew as he and Eveyin tumbled off the bed. He let go of his blade, least he cut Eveyin by accident. That she was back in Tarvakian's bed was disturbing. That she was throwing her life in front of her cruel master's was even more so. Strangest of all, Tarvakian was collared.

"My love," Tarvakian yelled. He rose, naked as his bedmate, and threw himself at Kelton. Kelton pushed Eveyin aside and rolled away from the struggle, finding sanctuary from the bizarreness in the corner. He withdrew his other blade, this time brandishing it as a shield as he contemplated what he never expected. My love, Tarvakian had said. Had his marriage to Bellina collapsed? And the collar.

"Guards!" Tarvakian yelled as he pulled Eveyin away from Kelton.

"I do not understand," Kelton said, as much to himself as to the others.

"Kelton?" Tarvakian asked, moving entirely in front of Eveyin and holding his arms wide as if they would stop Kelton from reaching her. He was not the image of the perfect man, carrying too much weight to stand naked with pride.

"Aye," Kelton replied. He stood, his blade still forward to slow any advance. "You are collared." He pointed at Heralic's neck with his sword. "And she is not your wife."

"All-Father," Tarvakian said. "You meant to kill me."

"Nay," Kelton said. "I meant to hold you to your vow." Running could be heard in the hallway. Soon they would not be alone. "Now, I am unsure of all things."

"His vow is intact," Eveyin said. She pulled a blanket off the bed to wrap about herself. Her body, though somewhat aged, was not onerous to the eye.

"You have acted in undue haste," Tarvakian chided as he accepted a blanket from Eveyin. "Though I must admit that seeing that you live pleases me."

"It is said house Tarvakian is the worst of houses," Kelton said in his defense. Tarvakian laughed as the door burst open, and light from the candlelit hallway flooded the room. Two guards, though one not, entered with swords drawn. Kelton's hand weakened on his pommel as he examined the not-guard. It was Tinnian, who Kelton once knew as property. A skilled dyer of cloth.

"Hold," Tarvakian said, holding up his palm. "All is well now."

"Sir?" Tinnian asked, his eyes fixed on Kelton's blade. Kelton dropped his sword and stepped back with palms raised. "It is...Kelton has returned."

"Aye," Tarvakian said. "Go wake the family, if the shouting has not done so already. We will gather in the meeting room as soon as we are dressed." Tinnian smiled at Kelton and didn't move. "Go."

"Aye, sir," Tinnian said, and the guards ran off.

"I have made a grave error," Kelton admitted. "Though in truth, I do not know what it is. Tinnian is property, is he not?"

"Was," Eveyin said as she approached. She cradled Kelton's head and kissed his forehead. "That is for not being dead." Though Kelton saw it well in advance, he stood still and accepted the slap on his cheek. "And that is for frightening us near to death."

"My sorrows...I think," Kelton said. He looked at Heralic. "You are collared?" Eveyin smiled and covered her mouth. Even in the dim light of the hall, Heralic's face burned red as he removed the band.

"It is a game we play some nights," Eveyin said.

"Tell no one," Heralic demanded.

"Not even Bellina." Kelton made it sound like an accusation.

"Her, you can tell," Eveyin said.

"Nay!" Heralic disagreed. Then sighed and sat on the bed, and indicated Eveyin to sit next to him. She complied, and he wrapped a protective arm around her. "Eveyin is wife of my heart, Kelton. Bellina is my wife in name. An agreement that works for all."

"Bellina's idea," Eveyin added.

Kelton plopped down on the floor as it began to sink in. "Ruse upon ruse. I fought in my mind knowing who you are, and still, I let others' words steer me astray.' He pointed out the window. "The guards outside the wall - they are to keep people out, not in."

"Aye," Tarvakian chuckled. "And not doing well if you snuck through."

"All are free inside?"

"Everyone," Eveyin replied.

"But most think you evil. The worst of owners."

"A sad necessity." Tarvakian nodded. "Some chose to separate and took coin to start anew. A few of them failed to prosper and demanded more coin or they would tell all. It was Borlin who devised the scheme. We would play as Barrankee to counter the truth that may come from lesser mouths." He smiled. "Mayhap, we have overplayed or part."

"The lesson post?" Kelton asked.

"Chicken blood," Tarvakian replied.

"Blood?"

"We spill chicken blood below to make them look used."

"I did not get close enough," Kelton said.

"Ahh," Tarvakian said. "It seems we prosper beyond our means and need new backs to grow more. I travel to the auction now again to buy property, then free them in hopes they agree to stay. If we choose right, they usually do. Alliette maneuvered a disposition from her father so that we could deliver the lesson - and then not do so." He shrugged. "Whip a taut hide, a few screams, toss about chicken blood, and all think I am a monster."