Magna'est dismounted from the mare he rode and broke from his cohorts, twenty in count, and moved into the hovel. The shack smelled of moist, rotting wood. A foulness likely caused by leaks in the thatched roof. Inside, there kneeled a pacified man between two Brethren. His clothes looked at home in the place, dirty and sparse, not unlike the furnishings. A sleeping mat lay behind him, pushed together in lumps because the cloth had separated, exposing its straw innards. A stump sat vertical, hewn poorly to create a flat surface for a backside, next to a rough board laying atop another stump to form a table, if it could be called such.

Magna'est wrinkled his nose. "You have words for me?" The man did not flinch as many did when a Brother spoke. Nothing to lose, Magna'est thought, death would be a blessing for one forced to live in such squaller. It was a wonder he waved down a Brother at all, much less many.

"Aye, your Eminence," the man said, his disheveled beard hiding the movements of his lips. It was a squeaky voice, one befitting of vermin. "I was paid to be second on a wagon, serving the King's men. Moved water and such for his colors and Lord Vanet's." The man paused, and his eyes shifted to the Brethren, who stood to his left. "I was told there would be coin for my words."

"If they are worthy," Magna'est said. "If not, a pole is the prize for ignorance." The man smiled, a sure sign that death held no sway. Magna'est's lip twitched. He hated those who held no fear. It reminded him of Rolic and his family.

"Lord Vanet was to confront the demon you seek," the man said, his confidence as infuriating as the smell of the place. "They fled instead. Word came that the Answer set a trap, and they desired not to fall into it."

Magna'est hand moved quickly, striking the vile creature across the face with closed fist. The man dropped to the floor, then pushed himself back to his knees, blood now seeping into his beard on one side of his mouth.

"There is no Answer," Magna'est instructed. "The Goddess sees only the Brethren and those whose hearts are full of her. To say otherwise is blasphemy." The man chuckled, a whinnying laugh that spoke of the weakness of his mind. Magna'est readjusted his opinion; the man did not fear death because he was addled.

"I speak only other's words, your Eminence," the man continued as if he had never been struck. "It is they who call him such, not I. The soldiers, mayhap, the Hold Lord himself, fear the demon more than the King's anger. They ran gladly, seeing only their end in such tasks."

"Do you fear this demon?" Magna'est asked. He wished the measure of the man. Perhaps, there could be some future use for him. He already spoke more truth than the Hold Lord's messengers.

"I fear his turning of the dirt, your Eminence."

"Turning of the dirt?"

"Aye," the man replied, his tone neither showing respect nor disrespect. "I have found my place and wish to root in it. There be no need to disturb what is, for dreams of what might be." he chuckled, a sickening sound as if nefarious memories had been privately evoked and enjoyed.

Magna'est looked about the hut. Dirt established the main decor, mold the other. "You desire your life here?"

The man chuckled again. "I desire coin, your Eminence. There are many cursed legs I wish to lie between. My desires are particular, and I mean to drown in them." His hand and eyes gestured about the shack. "Goddess willing, I will find my end taking such pleasure, not rotting in this."

"What are you called?" Magna'est smiled. It was a good sign to find a man such as this. Feed his desire, and much will be learned. Highborn words were laced with lies to protect their skin and preserve the promise. Here was a man who wished only vile congress with the cursed and had access to low soldier's words. Their truth was laced only with fears, which could be ignored with a thought. He would be a useful tool and easily discarded when the potency weakened. Besides, the nighthouse tithes would soon return any coin given.

"Bondscay, your Eminence."

Magna'est reached into his robes and produced a silver. He tossed it to Bondscay, who almost fumbled the catch. "Two nights, you will claim your desires. On the morn that follows, you will find another wagon that needs a second. I wish to know all you can discover of the Hold Lord and the men in his charge."

Bondscay's eyes widened as he listened and stared at the silver. "There are many more than two nights in this."

"Two nights," Magna'est repeated. "If you linger longer, you will find yourself without the parts you so desire to please."

"Two nights," Bondscay said in agreement, his smile and missing teeth showing through his beard. He tucked the coin away and stood without leave. "And you will learn much when I return, your Eminence. I have no desire to toil for only my belly anymore."

"The Goddess guide you," Magna'est said as he turned, leaving the disgusting home. It had been a long time since he had used low men to check up on the high. Usually, a Lord's failure, or the King's for that matter, had few ramifications that could not be handled another way. No longer - not with a Nagada loose, especially one who is gathering men. It must be ended quickly.

Magna'est joined his guard of Brethren, and they remounted their steeds. The temple was still a half day's ride. There was a strong desire to return to his saved one. She must never find another to depend on; the growing rarity made selecting another problematic. Time away was a curse in such things.

He sighed in thought as the monotonous ride began anew. The King was told to confront the demon with all he had. Now he knew the High Lords feared the red-haired menace and would find reasons to avoid the necessity. No longer could an unguided army be depended upon to seek and destroy. Courage must be imparted. White robes would have to be put at risk, driving the fodder forward and perhaps, strike the fatal blow when the boy is fully engaged. He shrugged; it wouldn't be his robe at risk. So be it.

Serenity crept through the trees to not attract others or warn Kelton of her approach. She had tried for many days to find him alone, and this was the first time she had sensed coming success. Juno and Sanlina were nowhere to be seen. Not even his captains were about - a rarity that must be seized.

Kelton was sitting with his back against a tree. His legs crossed with a wooden bowl between them. Stew steam rose from the bowl, as it did from another bowl that lay next to him on the ground. A sure sign that he expected another to join him. Serenity cringed inside. Her time would be limited.

"Good day," Serenity said as she approached, her smile bright and topped with eyes directed at him. Any man would find that a signal of her availability. She added a slight sway to her hips as more bait.

"Good day," Kelton returned, unsurprised with a smile as bright as hers. A good sign. He patted the ground next to him and lifted the second bowl of stew to make room. The welcome shocked Serenity, and she almost stumbled as the swing of her hips lost its harmony.

"It is rabbit," Kelton said, holding the extra bowl forward toward her. "One of O'fan's men found some thick carrots. Tasty as fieldfare goes, I must say." He gestured again for her to sit.

Serenity looked around. "Are you waiting for another?" She meant to say Juno, yet voicing it seemed to give her permanence. Best if Juno was only another.

"Nay," Kelton said. "It is time we talked without others about." He smiled again. "I see you have altered your skirts as well."

"Aye," Serenity said, looking down and welcoming the distraction. She smoothed out her skirt, which now rose a hand's width from the ground. It showed her boots, but it was better than dragging. The freedom of the new style was more welcome than she would have thought. "Sanlina helped me sew to keep the split modest." She separated her legs to show it was now really two skirts, like loose trousers, joined high between her legs. "It is easier moving through the trees."

"So, you are friends now?"

The question startled Serenity. Until it had been asked, she had placed Sanlina in the enemy camp; a cursed who had threatened her and wasn't worthy of the last-of-the-line's attention. Now, it was less so. Sanlina had made her laugh with her whispers about men and their dislike for the new style of skirts. Access to what they desire would not be so easy now.

"She is not disliked," Serenity admitted, the best she could do out loud. Perhaps Sanlina was kind to keep a closer eye on Serenity. Juno was Sanlina's true friend, not Serenity.

Kelton gestured at the ground again, desiring for Serenity to sit. It was what she wanted, yet she sat hesitantly now that it was his desire as well. It was easier to think of him as a conquest than complicit. Kelton handed her the bowl of stew and returned to his, dipping a spoon as if they ate together every day.

"I have desired time alone with you," Serenity said. It came out muddled with less confidence than she intended.

"Aye," Kelton said, then paused to finish chewing the meat already in his mouth. "It is time we figure our place in this story. I know not its end, but we are drawn to it together. Is it not better we do so with kind thoughts of one another?"

"Aye," Serenity agreed, surprised at how fast the conversation was progressing. It was to be her doing, not his. Troublesome.

He chuckled. "Is there a way you could end these dreams I have of you?" There was no blame in the words.

"Still?" Serenity asked, another good sign that made her smile.

"Every morn," Kelton replied with a nod. "It is of that time in the stream when your singing seduced my ears." He filled his mouth again.

"I thought you a spy," Serenity said. Her smile grew on its own, no longer needing to be forced. He remembered her image, and it pleased her. "You were a boy then, stumbling and fresh scarred. Do not hate me for being a girl who thought wrongly."

"Hate was not in my mind. I think it was then that manhood began to swallow the boy in me." He chuckled again. It was a laugh shared, something warm and comfortable. "I had not meant to see you unclothed, yet my eyes could not forget." He shrugged. "Now, my mind reminds me at the start of each day." He took another bite of the stew.

"You are the only one, you know." Serenity took a bite as well. It was a bland stew, as she had come to expect in the woods. The carrot's flavor had not been fully cooked out, but it floated in more water than gravy. The greasy rabbit was more chewy than flavorful.

"The only one?"

"Aye," Serenity said, thankful she took a small bite and was able to return to her words. "No other man has seen me as you have." She chuckled. "It is why my anger grew that day. I thought you had stolen a precious gift I possessed."

"I thought you in danger. Mayhap, I desired to save you," Kelton said. "Know it was not my intent to look upon you unbidden."

"But you did not look away," Serenity said. She softened her eyes and bit a corner of her bottom lip, a gesture she knew would present innocent desire. It had always worked in the past to get men to do what she desired.

"Nay," Kelton said. "A weakness of my mind. I had never seen such a thing, and my thoughts were spinning. I hated myself for it. Your ire hurt more than you know."

Serenity could hear the pain in his words. A regret that still lingered in his mind, even after all the winters that had passed. Somewhere deep, guilt grew inside her. She had caused that memory to be poor, yet still, he chose to blame himself.

"It was my doing, not yours," Serenity said. For the first time, she meant it both in words and mind. A boy had stumbled upon her, and she ruined the moment with her anger. She could have simply waved him and ignored it for the mistake it was. Her memories of yelling came back to haunt her.

"Aye," Kelton said to her surprise. "The next time, do not be so lovely." There was a brief pause before the laughter arose from both of them. It took only a moment for the previous pains to be erased. After all, she was young as well. The idiocy of youth had created something out of nothing.

The conversation stalled as they both ate. Unlike most men, Kelton was comfortable in silence. It was if he demanded nothing from Serenity, yet enjoyed her presence. Sitting with Hector was as congenial. Most other men had a way about them, as if they were on the verge of asking for what they would never receive. It was the expectation of forming a refusal that always set her on edge. Men were hard. She wondered why Kelton seemed soft.

"I would not yell if you were to happen upon me again," Serenity said. The words came out before thought interfered as if they were her mother's idea—duty, not truth. Kelton's eyebrows rose. "If you desired it, I would make it so." Her smile was uncontrolled, uncertain, and felt risky. She had never said such a thing to a man, unsure if it was her or the story asking. It was if she had thrown her skirts off right then and there. The words weakened her. At that moment, she realized that Kelton was not hers, nor did she desire him between her legs. Pain welled from what she had done.

"Is the duty that strong in you?" It was not an admonition. Kelton spoke with concern.

"Aye," Serenity said, tears forming. She didn't know if it was the perceived rejection or his caring that hurt the most. Perhaps, it was how desperate her words now sounded. "In this, I am cursed." her throat seized in spurts, as she failed to hold in her failure. She was no different than Sanlina or Juno. Her coin was duty, and it was her mother who thrust it upon her. The world was her nighthouse.

Kelton took Serenity's bowl from her and laid it on the ground next to his. He stood, holding out his hand. She took it and rose with his help, ashamed she was unable to hide her tears. It surprised her when he didn't send her away, but instead wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

"We are both cursed," Kelton whispered. It was permission, and Serenity took it. Not since her mother died had she allowed herself to cry in front of anyone but Hector. Now, it came in waves breaking on a strong shoulder. Her pride fled, and now she doubted her purpose. There was no lust in the way she was held, only compassion. Worse, she felt unworthy of it. Worse still, incapable of love. The last-of-the-line would fail, for even the Answer sparked no love in her.

"We are both lost in this story," Kelton said.

Serenity separated from him and wiped her eyes. "If not you, what is my purpose?"

"If it is like mine, then it will present itself in fits." Kelton sighed. "There is no straight path, of that I am sure." He looked down at the stew. "We should finish eating while the stew is still warm." Another distraction, but a welcome one. Kelton was kind in such things.

Serenity was finishing the last of her stew when it occurred to her that they had been alone for longer than she would have expected. Their continued conversation had exposed both their reservations of being in the ancient tale. Except for the dead, no others were mentioned in the story, leaving them in a lonely place. It tied them together, though she was quite sure, not by heart.

"What if we are forced to join?" Serenity asked, her words now holding a solemn tone. "If there is no bond, it will ruin us. If we do not, does it leave this land in horror?"

"I know not," Kelton replied. "There may be meanings beyond what many see. Words are words, and actions are actions. Mayhap, simply traveling the road set before us, will reveal our duty. Mayhap, it is only a story and is nothing but a banner to call others."

"Gossamer said as much," Serenity said. She thought back to that conversation and regretted her anger at the man. There had always been too much rage in her. It was caused by the duty placed by her mother and the ancestors that came before her. Her life had no choice if the story is to be believed.

"Juno guides me," Kelton said. "It is her heart that allows my next steps to find firm footing." He smiled with a softness Serenity envied. A cursed had better choices than her. "Mayhap, she and I will write another tale and find our happiness. I can see such a life with her."

"I have no one," Serenity admitted. There is Hector, but he was more guard than guide. "There are times when I think there never will be anyone." She smiled weakly. "I thought you would be the one, and now I think it was only duty that made it so."

"There are many here who would like to try to be yours," Kelton said. When Serenity looked up at him, the bright smile returned to tease her. She had to laugh.

"Attracting eyes has never been difficult," Serenity admitted. "It is what you speak of, how you think of Juno, that alludes me. None have sparked that in me." She shook her head. "Or, I have been too blind to see it."

Serenity started as she remembered the time. "What of Juno?" Her voice rising with sudden discomfort. "I have been here too long. I no longer wish to be between..."

"It was she who brought your stew," Kelton interrupted, waving away her concerns. "Sanlina and Juno conspire often. They decided we needed to trade words, and made it so." He smiled again, bleeding charm like a young boy. "Sit back, and we will trade stories of more pleasant things as the sun finds its bed. It will serve them right to worry some."

"You are a troublesome answer," Serenity said, sharing Kelton's smiling intrigue. The idea of words without goals was welcome. The weight of the world lifted from her as she settled back and listened to Kelton's stories of the world across the sea. A worthy escape from her failures as last-of-the-line. It didn't even bother her that Juno and Sanlina set her path that day. In truth, she recognized some love for Kelton inside of her, just not the heart-pounding kind.

King Mansard Gregory looked out from the battlements of his castle as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Captain Smyna looked impatient, standing like he wished to leap off the wall if he didn't receive his desired response. Gregory wasn't ready to respond. His mind was elsewhere seeking his son over the tops of the trees. The idea of a progeny had returned with strength. The tales of his blood's exploits, the name Kelton scribed on walls, and the anger in the eyes of every white-robed messenger gave him pride.

"Sire," Smyna said again. "I must know..."

"What is that," Gregory interrupted, his eyes fixating on an odd glow near where the treetops met the sky. He had never been one to know the name of stars or recognize one from the other, yet this one did not spark any memories in his experience. It was fatter if that could be used to describe a star. It did not twinkle and had a strange appendage that he was sure was a trick of the light. A tail of sorts, if his eyes were correct. His finger directed Smyna's eyes.

"I know not, sire," Smyna said, his curiosity now supplanting his previously desired information. They both moved closer to the edge as if that would allow a better view. It did not.

"A star, is it not?" the King asked.

"Misshapen, if it is," Smyna said. "Does it melt? Mayhap, it is too large to hold the sky and parts are falling off of it."