Kindly edited by @CollinHarrison4

Kelton blew carefully on the kindling, birthing the flint-ignited flames. He added some larger twigs, nursing the fire into adolescence. Daphne, guided by Audria, dropped an armload of thicker branches next to Kelton. He smiled his appreciation, though she failed to respond in kind.

"We will need more," Audria told her. Daphne nodded like mistreated property and went back into the trees.

"She need not work," Kelton whispered.

"She needs the work," Audria argued. "Duties to replace what they have burned in." She followed Daphne as a mother would follow her young.

"We should leave her somewhere," Rolic said with a sliver of anger. "Somewhere safe," he added, realizing his error before Kelton could respond.

"Is there somewhere safe?" Kelton asked. He added a few of Daphne's branches to the fire, generating a steady burn. Rolic did not respond, so Kelton repeated himself, this time accenting it with a deadly stare.

"Nay," Rolic replied, shaking his head. "She should not be near me, is all." Kelton could see both the fear and desire in him.

"She frightens you."

Rolic stood and turned his back on Kelton. It looked as if he meant to walk away, but he did not. "I frighten me," he admitted.

"You are drawn to her?" Kelton asked.

Rolic nodded, his face still hidden.

"You are the first king of Masocrate," Kelton said. He let in his anger, talking to Rolic like he was beneath all others. "And a young girl terrifies you."

Rolic turned. "Do you relish death?"

"Nay," Kelton replied. "Nor do I seek it in others. I will take my turn when it is time."

"The blackness of it is beyond words," Rolic said. "When the light returns, there is a relief that blossoms inside. It reminds me of my mother caring for some ill that had befallen me. It is love, and trust, and closeness and ..." He turned back around, silence filling in what he could not put into words.

"It is the vine," Kelton said. He knew it now. Nothing would end it short of a final death. Rolic was an exception, and still he craved the rule.

"Aye," Rolic agreed. "Though the yellow vine destroys, it does not sustain." There was a pause before he added softly, "it is kinder."

"How can the saying of words do such a thing?" Kelton asked.

"It is not the words; it is the sacrifice with intent," Rolic replied. "I know not why. I only know the Goddess sees fit to grant the daughter's request."

"Gods and Goddesses," Kelton grunted, shaking his head. "To think a deity would desire such a thing ... there is no sense to it. Why not use the power to create what one desires at the start, and not steal from one to give to another?"

"Do we not end the rabbit and eat its meat to see another day?" Rolic countered.

"Aye, as all beasts do," Kelton replied. "I know not the why of the ebbs and flows of beasts and men. It is the pattern of things, one feeding on another until they don't. What I saw breaks the pattern, for all things die as well. Why would a goddess desire to share eternity with a few? Why choose when chance or skill decides all else?"

"Aye, why?" Rolic said. His look and tone irritated Kelton. It was as if Rolic thought himself a teacher forcing his student to discover truths for himself. Daughters were cutting their throats. It was not the time for cryptic discussions. Life was designed as a gamble for all, yet Kelton was to believe the Goddess had chosen some for which sureness was the rule. The Brethren were counter to the rhythm of life, sand that did not shift in the waves. It was as if ...

"The Goddess is not a goddess," Kelton said as it came to him. A true god would have no need to break the rules.

"As we are not Gods to the ants," Rolic agreed. He did not smile as a teacher would. The revelation was too grim to be satisfying for either of them. "At least, that is my conclusion as well," he said with a shrug.

"You do not know," Kelton said.

"It is the Goddess' doing," Rolic said. "Whatever she is, if she is even a she. Mayhap, our notions of male and female do not apply. History has deemed her Goddess to soften her, to remind us of our mothers. It was the faith before and remains now."

"And this rebirth - it grants the Knowing?"

Rolic nodded. "Mayhap, a taste of the Goddess stays when lives merge. The smell of the intent of those who have not merged lingers. We are raised above others."

"I have not merged," Kelton said. A frown formed. "And never will."

"You are a rare thing," Rolic said. "We know not its cause. A sacrifice is required, one born of love. At first, it was thought the mother had passed during birth, yet some have been found in their mother's living arms." His lips squeezed in thought. "Mayhap, it is Kushiel's love from long ago. The words of the story have held steady, unlike all other tales. That is power of a kind."

"I was taken from my mother's arms," Kelton said. Gossamer wouldn't lie, or at least not the time when he finally spoke the truth of it. "And love does not leak from the past. It is a thing of now." Juno was proof of it.

"You asked," Rolic said. "I can only guess, as others have."

"Pile them here," Audria directed. She dropped her gathered deadwood an arm's reach from the fire. Daphne added her armload. "Come and sit."

Kelton retrieved an apple from his cloak and tossed it unthinkingly to Audria - an odd thing to do, not knowing the woman's quickness. He was rewarded by her competence as she snatched it from the air. She handed it to Daphne, who began eating again.

"Do you have another?" Audria asked. She grabbed Daphne's arm when the girl began to rise. Daphne sat back down again, her eyes not leaving Rolic.

"Aye," Kelton said, tossing the last apple. Audria didn't pass that one.

"I must leave for a moment," Rolic said, his eyes trying to avoid Daphne. Kelton nodded as Rolic moved into the trees.

Audria mumbled something, then smiled and swallowed the bite she was chewing on. "It is heaven out here. I thank you for this."

"It is the woods, and we will be sharing blankets," Kelton said. "If it rains, you may well think less of your rescuers."

"Heaven," she repeated and took another big bite of her apple.

"I am sorry for you and her," Kelton said.

"Not your doing," Audria said.

Kelton looked toward Daphne. His words died in his mouth as her fear showed clearly when his attention moved to her. He smiled as kindly as he could before looking away.

"Why are you not like her?" Kelton asked Audria.

"It is easier for some to love," Audria replied. "She is soft. I am not."

"She is fearful of me," Kelton said.

"Aye, and all other men, save one," Audria agreed, then took another bite of her apple. "The one you call Rolic is her heaven. You demanded her rescue, Answer." It sounded like blame.

"I am called Kelton."

"The first has fallen," Audria said, arguing his name. "Twice by my count."

"Thrice," Kelton sighed.

"He did not feel you," Audria said.

"I am Unseen. I know not how, but it was not by claiming daughters."

"The Goddess is a fool," Audria said. "Mayhap, she spills her will about when she is deep in ale."

Kelton laughed. "I think the same of gods and goddesses. Until this day, I thought they were mostly dreams born of vapor."

"I have cursed her," Audria said, turning the apple to find another bite. "She did not strike me dead; my most fervent desire ignored. Now, I am free." She shrugged and bit deep.

"Do you still desire death?" Kelton asked, worried that she had been ruined like her charge.

"Nay," she replied and took a moment to chew, her hand begging for time. "I am greedy now. I desire a bath. One with hot water and sweet-smelling petals."

"Then I shall find you one, my lady," Kelton said with a smiling bow of his head.

"I do not wish to offend, Answer," Audria said. "I wish to bathe alone." Unlike her charge, there was no fear in this woman. She misunderstood his smile and had no trouble setting terms. Days of desiring death had created power in her - strength built from defiance.

"I do not wish to offend, Audria. There is only one I desire to bathe with, and you are not her."

It was Audria's turn to smile. She toasted with her apple core as if it were a mug of wine.

Kelton smiled as he sipped his ale. A lousy brew even if he was no expert. What gladdened his heart was the man next to him, a king and killer of young ones. It was the man's worry that pleased him. The bit of suffering was not the blade Rolic deserved, but it would have to do for now.

"You risk much for a bath," Rolic whispered, a mantra he had kept up for most of the day. He lifted his mug and drank deep.

"Did you see her smile?" Kelton asked. "You and yours market in misery. What is my purpose, if not to undo what you have broken?"

The tavern was warm with its hearth in full flame and its tables full. They were hidden among the other travelers, alone at a table near the door to the rooms they would use for the night and the bath Audria and Daphne now enjoyed. Feller's Crossing was a perfect place to hide, among many who looked to remain anonymous themselves. Everyone trusted that the others would keep to themselves. Even the townsfolk looked at ease, ignoring those who wished to remain nameless.

"A bath," Rolic grumbled, shaking his head. The ale did not make him anymore reasonable. "Might as well pull down your hood and announce yourself to this rabble."

"People," Kelton corrected with some disgust. "Are you so confident in your superiority, sire?"

"People," Rolic agreed. He nodded his head, something Kelton did not expect. An insult was intended, and it failed to take root. Kelton disliked it when Rolic did something endearing, like admit when he was wrong. "It is the risk and my fear of Juno's wrath if you do not return whole."

"You use words like a sword," Kelton said. He felt the mention of Juno was deliberate, something to soothe Kelton's thoughts of previous sins.

"Aye," Rolic sighed. "An old habit, but this time they are a shield. Your eyes are the swords, and I have earned them." He took another swig, ignoring the risk he had proclaimed. Ale certainly would not lessen it.

The tavern was an old one, as most were. The timbers that held the thatched roof showed age, and their seat in the stone walls on one side had sunk, cracking the smooth joints between the rocks and granting a tilt to the whole structure. The common room was tight with tables, leaving little space to travel for the two boys who brought food and drink. They seemed used to it, skillfully bending to and fro as they carried loaded trays. A counter separated tables from the kitchen and the door out the back.

"Why young girls?" Kelton asked. The question caught Rolic by surprise. Another small pleasure.

"Trial and error, I was told," Rolic said once he wiped the foam from his mustache. "The failures were too high with all others. The Choosings are not done to generate fear. They allow the trained to choose those most likely to succeed."

"They failed with Audria," Kelton said.

"Aye," Rolic agreed. "The numbers needed are great and growing. When one begins to starve, rats look tasty. Foreign-born are being taught now, and the failures grow. It is the mother and father who dictate a good choice, and that is unknown on a slave ship."

"Mother and father?"

"A young girl who is loved well. One who has not known loss, nor joined with another. It is their minds that are easiest to mold. Minds only a mother and father can shape. It is not the girls they survey at a Choosing."

"You ruin the best of them," Kelton said. "Why not boys?"

"It may come to that," Rolic said. "They are easily molded as well but failed more often in the past. They would rather leap on the sword than mend its damage. It is in the mother-to-be where sacrifice and repair are found." He paused with obvious guilt. "They are taught to see us as their children."

"You abuse the rhythm of nature," Kelton said.

"We have broken nature," Rolic said, then drowned the words in ale. "Why did you allow me to live?"

"You ask me now?"

"I know what I deserve, yet I still fear its teeth." Rolic gestured around the crowded tavern, "Here I am given a respite, knowing you would wait until we are alone. Death is easier to contemplate if it is not now."

"I need your knowledge," Kelton replied. "You have proven to be worthy of trust, at least from me." He shrugged and lifted his mug to his lips. "I have read of your battle skills; some transcribed from your own hand. I need that as well." The sip was delicious, especially when seasoned with Rolic's surprise. Kelton enjoyed having information Rolic lacked.

"My writings have survived?"

"Not easily obtained, but aye," Kelton said. "It made me aware of the need for wagons and supplies. Such things are never mentioned in the stories, just swords and heroes."

Kelton missed Rolic's next words as the Knowing told him of two groups approaching. One to the front, another to the rear. They moved as one, with a purpose seen in formations. "Soldiers?" he interrupted. Rolic nodded. Kelton adjusted his hood, burying his face in more shadow.

"A bath," Rolic reminded him.

Two soldiers cloaked in green entered the tavern, taking positions on each side of the door with their swords on prominent display. Four more followed a man who walked with importance to the platform where storytellers would take up residence. In his wake, silence replaced the din as more of the patrons became aware. Kelton was thankful that others were shrinking back into themselves as well.

"Lord Ogden, there is no trouble here," the aged keeper yelled from across the room. He was moving forward, most likely fearing the coin he would lose because of the visit. Many looked like they wished to leave. "Mayhap, you and your men could share some ale. There is a room in the..."

"I will not be long, Tully," Ogden said, palm up to silence the keeper. The Hold Lord's expression was firm and full of authority. His hair was gray, but full and cropped short, giving him a severity that lent strength to his words. "I am looking for a young one, a girl with..."

A chair scraped loudly backward as a large hooded figure rose from a table near the center of the tavern. The man, by the size, pulled a smaller figure up and told it to run. He drew a blade, a grand knife that was arguably worthy of losing an arm. "Leave her be, or I swear you have seen your last day."

The figure, a girl by the odds, ran past Rolic's seat toward the rear exit. Kelton knew she had no way out with the soldiers he had sensed in the rear.

"Who are you?" the Hold Lord asked, directing his men forward. Ogden was efficient and seemed undeterred by the event. A leader, and used to it. His only failure was that he had no idea that Kelton recognized the voice of the man who would threaten a Hold Lord and had a strong sense of who had run past his table. It was no longer surprising to him. He was where he needed to be, always pushed and pulled about.

The girl cried out, her voice deeper than Kelton remembered. She was dragged back into the tavern proper by two soldiers entering the rear, as green cloaks neared her father. Kelton stood, ignoring Rolic's attempt to keep him seated. He stepped up on the chair, then moved atop the table. The movement slowed the soldiers as they began to reevaluate possible threats.

"Sit!" Ogden commanded, pointing at Kelton. "Or your regrets will be pondered in a cell."

"She is not scarred," one of the soldiers announced. Kelton looked back at the now-unhooded girl. Much older than he remembered, almost a woman. There was more anger than fear in Rebecca's eyes. He smiled, and her eyes went wide.

Kelton looked back at the Hold Lord. "Free her, or I will see her father's promise kept." The first sign of doubt appeared in Ogden's eyes. Confidence attacking confidence. "You like promises, don't you? Do your men know of the other promise you have been given?"

Rolic stood, again muttering of a bath. He began to shift toward Rebecca, a clear sign to Kelton that she was no longer at risk - seen versus Unseen - not fair at all.

"Who are you?" Ogden asked. His eyes shifted toward one of his men, an unspoken signal that triggered a disciplined response. The man's sword left its sheath, and he came swiftly toward Kelton, his intent screaming in its stupidity. Spider's-bite found air and bit into the blade that was foolish enough to seek entry. The soldier's grip was sturdy for it took three rapid strikes to separate him from his sword, sending the blade spinning along the floor. The soldier backed away, the speed of his disarmament creating fear and sending him scurrying from his sword.

"I am your demon, demon," Kelton replied, leaping from one table to another, closing the distance. Those sitting there pushed away. Stories of a dual-bladed man had traveled far, and whispers of the Answer began to emerge. Kelton removed his hood, dark-dyed hair in front fading into red, his scar now clearly visible. The Hold Lord backed away, though the wall behind him prevented egress. Terror replaced the power he no longer wielded.

"The Answer is here," the Hold Lord yelled. It wasn't a revelation; it was a signal. Kelton shifted direction and moved toward the door, running across tables as people scattered out of his way. He saw Rolic moving toward the rear from the corner of his eye. They knew what the announcement meant - Unseen against Unseen. Perhaps the bath was not a good idea after all.

Kelton was surprised to see only two white cloaks enter through the front door. Blades drawn, they separated to weaken his defense as he dropped to the floor. There was yelling behind him, men and women drawing hand blades. He could ignore them, for their intent was clear and not directed at him. A battle among the seen, and the numbers were with him. Kelton wondered if Ogden and his men had expected a revolt.

Spider's-bite was quick to establish space, dancing in the air and claiming dominion over it. Something was wrong with the two white cloaks, as if they were stalling and expected help. Perhaps the others were wiser and chose to avoid the tribe. It mattered not. Two or a hundred at a time, they would all fall for what they have done. The future lies in the young; they were not to be warped, not to be traded for undeserved winters. Kelton ignored a muttered cry for parlay from the Hold Lord, a feeble attempt for time the tribe would never give.

Kelton loosed a Nagada war cry that shook the intent in the tavern. He focused on the evil that stood before him, weak men who peddled in misery. Spider's-bite carved through the loathsome meat that was once a man. The Brother's scream was a song of retribution for the tribe's heart. Kelton turned to find the other flailing his blade, a useless attempt at a shield. Kelton stepped forward, Spider's-bite singing its song, separating steel and hand from the demon who wielded it. The man screamed, tucking his bleeding stump under his good arm. He moved backward as if justice was served. The tribe seeks not justice, only the removal of disease. Kelton drove Spider's-bite upward under the ribs, twisting away the last spark of the man's stolen winters.