BLIND LUCK © 2002 M.D. KOFFIN THIS DRAFT IS FOR PREVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT COPY OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S EXPRESSED PERMISSION. A thin boy with slumped shoulders paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of a dirty hand and then wipe his hand on his dirty overalls. A breeze puffed through a crack in the barn's foundation causing strands of straw to dance around his feet in a swirl of red dust. The weather was finally starting to get cooler, making his work a little easier. He again pushed the long-handled scraper until the flattened end struck the wooden wall of the stall with a thunk. He traded the scraper for a shovel, lifting loosened debris into a wheelbarrel. The waste reminded him of the other boys who were partnered with him in this chore. Each was supposed to take turns raking, scraping, shoveling, and strawing, but he had cleaned out the stalls almost completely by himself. His brother Frege was probably fooling around with the ranch hands and expecting Caval to cover for them. Caval let out an impotent sigh, because of course he would. After laying out fresh bedding for the animals, Caval was finally finished. He carefully straightened his aching back and caught his warped reflection in the dull metal of the feed cabinet. He flexed his slight muscles in a comical imitation of a carnival strongman, and then folded his lips back with his fingers, baring his straight teeth and pink gums as he stuck out his tongue. Reminded of how his father would probe an equi's mouth and flesh to determine good confirmation, his amusement faded. His appearance was otherwise very unequine. His mouth was just thinner than full, and his nose was plain and unobtrusive. He had short dark hair framing a boyishly round face with a fading tan. His hair was not curly, but not quite straight either. Stray wisps stuck out from his head at bizarre angles, lending a wild look to his solemn countenance. His blue eyes were his most striking feature, but he was easily embarrassed by any attention they drew and overly conscious of the jealousy it stirred in his siblings. He only wished that his eyes were a plain earthy brown color. To make things even worse, he had dimples. A rowdy burst of laughter from a nearby supply shed distracted him from grieving over his looks. He was considered cute and he hated it, but nothing could be done about it. He headed over to the shed to put away the cleaning tools. As he opened the door, a rake and scraper dropped from his overloaded hands. The sounds of amusement he heard from inside hushed immediately. Frege was sitting on the hardened dirt floor with two of the younger ranch hands, Lane and Roe. "We almost thought you were the old man." Frege glared unwelcomingly at him. Apparently the idea of Caval being mistaken in any way for his father was just too much for the boys and they began laughing uncontrollably again. Caval was too annoyed with Frege to enjoy the joke, and he mentally compared Frege's tossing blonde head with a braying gyak. When the others made no move to help him, he forcefully shoved the tools into their places on the wall rack. "Break those and Dad will break you." Frege threatened. The truth in his words stopped Caval from perversely slamming the tools harder. "Maybe I'll tell him you've been in here gambling with the help again." He threatened right back. The boys jumped to their feet with cards in hand. Though Caval was not much shorter than Frege, he was much leaner. The other two boys were solidly built and towered over the both of them. Caval was never more aware of that fact than now, with the dark eyes he had been secretly envying only moments earlier focused down on him. Frege collected the cards and then leaned on Caval's shoulder with feigned casualness. "How about settling this with a little wager?" Caval regarded Frege warily. He still expected to be unnecessarily pounded into silence for the empty threat. "Hear me out, I mean, I know you've been working hard," he rolled his eyes and on cue Lane and Roe chuckled derisively. "So I think you deserve a fair deal. If I win, you won't tell Dad about this." He waved the cards in his hands. "What if I win?" The boys tried to stifle more snickering. None of them were very smart, which was fine for the manual work they did, but it made it easier for someone like Frege to manipulate them. Caval narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he faced his brother. "Hmmm," Frege scratched his head and made a real show of thinking hard. "How about I clean the wyrn coop next time?" Caval did not trust him, but he would take any chance to get out of that nasty job. The smell and noise of the wyrn coop was so intolerable that it was kept on the far side of their large drycorn field, well away from the house. The wyrn attacked anyone who entered their coop out of ignorant fear, though their short beaks and claws were more dangerous for causing infections than inflicting actual damage. The temptation must have been obvious on his face because Frege clapped him on the back and Lane and Roe smiled. "We better hurry. It's almost supper." Lane observed. He was always saying he was hungry or talking about food. His stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly as if in agreement. "What's the game?" Caval reached for the cards. He was pretty good at several games and even knew a few tricks. He believed Frege would find it hard to cheat without him noticing. Frege tucked the deck of cards in his shirt pocket. "Oh no, not cards." He threw one arm around Caval's shoulders and guided him out of the shed with Lane and Roe eagerly falling in behind them. Frege did not let go of Caval until they reached the snorter pen. The blissfully ignorant snorters wallowed around in medium sized enclosure. They squealed with pleasure when they could coat themselves in their own shit. Caval found it pretty disgusting but even so, he preferred their ponderous company to that of the shrill wyrn. "This is a baby game." He protested, straightening his shirt indignantly. Frege gestured towards the fence with raised eyebrows. The fence started at one corner of a small, open-faced shelter and worked its way around in a half rectangle, ending with the other corner of that side of the shelter. The support was fairly rickety with two thin half logs of insect chewed wood suspended unevenly between each post, but still, it would be fairly simple to walk across. Then Caval spied a gap in the fence about two-thirds of the way around where a wire was strung between two of the posts. It looked about four feet across. "Whoever makes it the farthest wins, and you can't push the other person off." Roe instructed simply. The instructions were unnecessary. They had all played this game several times, though they had long before discarded it as child's play. "If you want to give up, it's all right." Frege offered, affecting a bored tone. "Not a chance." Caval countered with mock confidence. That gap looked tricky, and he knew Frege had to be up to something. "Well, go on then." Caval climbed up on the fence. The top rail turned in its postholes and he almost lost his balance right away. He managed to steady himself and his nerve while Frege climbed up behind him. The other boys moved around to just past the wire-strung gap and sat down to wait. He started forward, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. He tried not to look down. Even though he was only a few feet off the ground, it was disconcerting. One side was hard-packed dirt and rocks, while the other was snorter slop and refuse. Either way would be an unpleasant fall. Gaining confidence as he continued to work his way around, he moved ahead nimbly while Frege lagged behind. Even though he knew this was not a race, Caval tried to outpace him. He realized that he did not just want to win, he wanted to beat Frege, and he was actually glad that they had picked this contest rather than some game of chance. Caval's gratification was brief, as the log he was crossing jolted under his feet. He cautiously looked over his shoulder. Frege was standing on the last post and kicking the log Caval was on. We're much to big for this now, not just in age but in size, Caval thought as the log creaked ominously with the heavy impact of Frege's boot. He was sure that the insect hollowed wood could not stand up to this kind of abuse. He wanted to rush ahead, but if he panicked he would probably loose his footing anyway. He continued to watch Frege's antics out of the corner of his eye as he concentrated on controlling his own balance. After two more reckless stomps, Caval heard a sharp crack and felt the support drop treacherously from under his feet. He missed his planned grab for the next post and fell full-length onto the log, getting his neck scraped, his balls pinched, and the wind knocked out of him all in the same heartbeat. The log had fractured towards Frege's end with two splintered shards dipping down in a crooked V, the base of the V stuck in the log underneath like the head of an arrow. Lane and Roe were on their feet, watching with anticipation. Caval managed to pull himself up onto the next post, adding splinters to his body's complaints. Both shards wiggled under his motions but did not slide off the supporting log. The disappointed ranch hands sat down with a few verbal jabs at Frege's botched endeavor. Caval hid a smile. The trial was not over yet. Frege crossed the broken log slowly, a deep crease in his brow marking the intensity of his concentration. He obviously did not want to lose to Caval any more than Caval wanted to lose to him. "What're you waiting for?" Frege demanded when he reached Caval's position. Caval was sorely tempted to shake the log to unsettle Frege, but he knew that he could just as easily dump the both of them. Instead, Caval continued onto the next log, and the next. Finally he reached the wire. "C'mon!" Frege taunted, practically standing on his heels. "Stop acting like a cowardly wyrn." Caval realized that he should have inspected the wire before the game to make sure Frege had not tampered with it. There was nothing he could do now though, if he stepped down for any reason he would forfeit. He cautiously slid one foot out onto the wire, trying to test if it was really anchored to both posts. It seemed secure enough, bending only slightly with the pressure. He continued to push his foot out, putting more and more weight on it. Then he brought his other leg around and jumped the rest of the way across the gap. He landed perfectly on the next log but it bowed under his weight. He had a hard time regaining his balance and he swayed precariously back and forth. Lane and Roe hooted distractingly and tossed out unhelpful advice at him. Finally Caval ended their suspense and straightened up, unable to resist throwing Frege a triumphant smile. It would be easy from here on, or so he thought. Just as he started to move again, Frege let out a startling yell and lunged toward him. Caval should have known that Frege could not reach him across the gap, but he instinctively turned to defend himself, and instantly lost his balance. He fell backwards with a dramatic splooch into the muck of the snorter pen. The snorters squealed in alarm and ran to the other side of the pen, where they continued to grunt with indignation at his invasion of their home. Frege was doubled over with laughter, sitting on his heels to keep himself steady on the fence. "That wasn't fair!" Caval yelled at him. He struggled to sit up but the muck held him like glue. "It was too!" Frege gasped between knee-slapping fits. "I never...even...touched you!" Laughing just as hard, Lane and Roe reached in to give Caval a hand. As they pulled, the muck finally released him with a mighty wet sucking sound. The snorters sniffed at the human imprint left behind, as if they were checking to make sure he had not contaminated their filth. Caval was covered in shit from head to toe. "He's right." Roe affirmed, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face for a moment. "He didn't push you in, you did it to yourself." "But now it's Frege's turn." Lane added, grinning approvingly at Caval. Caval began to laugh at himself as he scooped as much of the dark, gloppy mess off as he could. "C'mon Frege, don't start acting like a silly wyrn now." Caval mimicked. He looked forward to seeing Frege get dumped. If he did not fall on his own, Caval would just have to help him out. He gained extra nerve from the realization that the ranch hands wanted to see Frege get dumped as well. "I don't know if you guys are brave or just crazy," Roe wondered out loud as Frege stood haughtily on the fence. "I'd never risk falling into that crap." To demonstrate his agreement, Lane pinched his nose and sidled away from Caval. Lane had turned his nose in the right direction to spot Bin approaching. He elbowed Roe in the ribs and pointed. "It's Master Bin!" Roe whispered urgently. Frege twisted around to look for his father and toppled from the fence with a girlish yelp that turned into a grunting oof as he hit the dirt face first. Lane and Roe quickly helped the ruffled Frege to his feet. Caval did not have time to appreciate Frege's defeat or to feel disappointed that he had not fallen in the slop too. Bin's mountainous frame stomped up and he looked over the four boys with no hint of amusement. "So Caval, you like wallowing in the snorter pen, huh? You now have the pleasure of cleaning it tomorrow." After a pause to examine the boys again, he added, "I was looking to find out who left the supply shed open. A koonrat crawled right in and chewed holes in all the fertilizer bags." "Caval." Frege blamed before anyone else could say anything. "Well, well." Bin placed himself directly in front of Caval. He held up a single playing card, the back concealed with red crosshatching and a decorative silhouette of a dragonhead. "So I suppose you were loafing off when you were supposed to be working hard with the other boys." Caval opened his mouth to blurt out the whole story, throwing a quick glance at the others for support. Seeing Frege's glower and the ranch hands' desperate expressions, his jaw snapped shut without a word. Bin sighed with mock concern and threw the card at Caval. It fluttered and landed face up at his feet, the page of swords. "I can't keep letting you get away with this behavior. I'm going to have to punish you for your own good." Frege turned away to cover one of his smirks, while Lane and Roe lowered their heads guiltily. Caval wondered if the other boys had knowingly helped Frege set him up, or if they really had meant for the game to be fair. "What are you standing around for? Get to supper." Bin demanded sharply. "Thank you, Sir." Lane and Roe voiced unanimously and hurried off. Frege sauntered after them. Caval stood alone, horrified. He was positive Bin guessed the real story and was going to try to beat it out of him. Then when Caval told the truth, he would beat him twice as hard for lying in the first place. "Time for your lesson." His father warned with a stern glare. He was drawing it out, giving Caval a chance to sweat a bit. Caval had long ago realized that pleading to be spared punishment was futile. His spine straightened imperceptibly at his resolve to once again accept the inevitable, but he still kept his eyes on the ground, on the solitary playing card. The card should have been the King of Rods, he thought bitterly as Bin removed his belt and Caval turned around automatically. He knew from experience that this was going to hurt a lot. The shabby seat of his overalls would do nothing to lessen the belt's bite. He braced himself on the fence to the pen. The first lash cracked loudly as the tough leather whipped against his backside. Caval bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from crying out with each successive lash. If he made a single sound it would only make it that much worse for himself, making it that much more enjoyable for Bin. After ten more of Bin's painfully expert strikes, tears traced muddy tracks on his cheeks. After about thirty, he was almost numb to the pain, almost. He counted silently... 38, 39, 40, 41, 42... then it was over. Caval continued to stand silently, turning only when Bin started to rethread the belt into his pants. Why couldn't his father wear suspenders, Caval thought wistfully, and then had to suppress a sudden giddy urge to laugh. Bin changed his mind about rethreading the belt and Caval noticed it had refuse on it. Again he had to stop himself from bursting into a giggling hysteria. He bit viciously into his own tongue until the pain made his squinting eyes leak more tears. His burning backside was already starting to throb. The last thing he needed was to make Bin angry again. "It seems I can't punish you enough for things to get through that thick head of yours." His father remarked with exasperation, as he loosened the collar of his shirt. Caval stole a quick glance at his father's face. Bin was slightly flushed from the exertion of teaching Caval his lesson. His thin lips, which normally looked like a straight cut across his stubble-covered chin, were turned up at the corners. His deep-set eyes were lit fiercely. These were the only times Caval ever saw any animation in his father's stony face, and that smile scared the wits out of him. The same fear kept him standing immobile and silent like a humble statue, though he was dying to squirm and rub at his behind. "Go clean up the fertilizer, then shut up the shed. Make sure you close it up good this time." Bin ordered. Caval nodded and automatically turned to obey Bin's command. Bin made a motion to grab Caval's shoulder to stop him, but then hastily pulled his hand back before touching the ooze covering his body. Caval almost gave in to laughter again at his father's pristine reaction, but again he bit his tongue. "Then get straight to bed. For making me late to supper, you get none." Bin added pettily. He looked with disgust at Caval's still dripping form and reminded him, "Don't forget to clean out the snorter pen tomorrow, though you'll probably enjoy it. As your real punishment, I'll allow you to clean the wyrn coop the next day. You like that Caval?" Caval was outraged at the injustices Bin was heaping on him and seething at the nasty trick Frege had pulled, but he knew better than to respond to his father's teasing. Bin could not see the barely contained fury on Caval's carefully averted face. With a mollified grunt at Caval's bowed head, Bin headed off for the house. * * * * * Bin could not help wondering at the slow change that was coming over that boy. He was growing up. How old was he now, fourteen or fifteen? Maybe younger since his sister Caydi was almost fifteen. That he remembered because his wife wouldn't let her be bonded until she was at least his older daughter's age. That meant he had to wait more than a year to profit from a match for the girl. What if something happened to her in the meantime like if she lost her looks somehow? But no amount of reasoning could get his lovely Sahri to budge, and traditionally she had final approval of any suit. He wondered again what kind of man Sahri's previous husband had been. He knew Kyle had been a soldier, but that was all. Caval and Caydi were obedient enough so he must have been a good father. He sometimes believed his own children were probably his curse, having been born from a whore. All three of the illegitimate whelps she abandoned to him were pretty much worthless. Dake was lazy, Frege was stupid, and Lonyni was ugly as a gyack's ass. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone else, he rarely even allowed himself these thoughts. Now Caval's mother was the finest looking woman he had ever seen. He followed her with infatuation as she wandered through the market where he first saw her. She moved from stand to stand, looking without seeing, until she saw him. Her bored, sea-blue eyes met his and virtually ignited, and he had felt as if his heart was struck by invisible lightning. He stumbled all over himself trying to attract her favor and she somehow managed to find his oafish behavior endearing. Her husband had been dead several years, and while she had not been searching for another, she soon consented to be bonded with a small ceremony and a large dowry. He had hoped to have some decent sons with her, but the last birth was a rough one. To his disappointment, all her pain and effort produced was a girl. Suvi was pretty at least, like Sahri's other children. Even Caval looked like a damn girl compared to Lonyni. Bin's thoughts came back on their original course. Caval took his thrashing more calmly than Bin had ever seen but, he noted with a slow smile, the fear was still there. The boy was still under his control, but he questioned how much longer he could keep it that way. The thought of his other wayward son came automatically to mind. To his embarrassment, Dake had run off to join some musical traveling band. He stopped by only rarely but was an unaccustomed nuisance. Of course Caval adored him, probably more so because he knew Bin disapproved. Bin pushed those irritating thoughts from his mind and focused on the real problem. Koonrats. Caval was probably not the one who let the koonrat get into the shed. Those critters were awful smart sometimes and he was often amazed at what they managed to get into. That door could have been latched tight. No trap could catch the vermin. It was like, well, it was like magic. If you believed in that stuff, he thought with a frown. Bin was reminded of the playing card he had found in the shed. Frege had spoken up a little too fast for his liking. He dismissed the little game they were playing, though he was surprised they were still entertained by it at their age. "Walk the Fence." He reflected out loud, getting flashes of his own rural childhood. He really did not care how they got their kicks, as long as it did not involve gambling. Bin almost had no inheritance due to his own father's reckless addiction. When he finally got control of the farm, it was a constant struggle to make it prosper. This damn drought made it almost impossible, and he had his father's heavy debts to the Farm Union to pay off. Truthfully, it was only the trade of a chunk of his land for Sahri's dowry that saved him from total failure. He had noticed his father's bad habits in Frege. Frege seemed to bet impulsively on anything. Bin was almost positive that if he searched him, he would find the rest of those playing cards. He should be taught some respect, Bin mused, why Caval almost had more... he stopped himself. He could never favor Sahri's bastards over his own, which is what he had nearly been thinking this entire time. He promised himself he would fix that as he reached the house and slammed open the front door, bellowing for his dinner. * * * * * Caval let out a shaky, relieved breath when Bin disappeared from sight. He gingerly smoothed his overalls over the painful welts on his backside. His upper legs and lower back hurt the worst. The target area would get somewhat desensitized after several lashes while misaimed strikes would sting fresh unmarked skin. The sun had set while he was being beaten. The light was almost gone and the sky was a purplish blue that was quickly turning black. The color would almost look like a bruise except for the small wavering pinpoints of silvery light that marked the Skychildren, offspring of the Sunfather and the Moonmother. He made brief signs of worship for Benygne and Yshraa, the practiced motions comforting him slightly. He noted that Benygth, the Darkmoon, was still rising first. He quoted an old verse in his mind. He could not remember where he heard it, perhaps in one of Dake's crazy poems. Light o'er dark moon, all in full bloom Dark first in sight, all in bad plight "How true." Caval mumbled to himself. He was actually glad to avoid the table this evening. He did not want to have to put up with the humiliation of Frege's gloating, or even worst, his mother and sister's quiet concern. He limped off to do as he was told, lighting a lamp in the shed so he could observe the damage. It was a minor mess and he finished his task quickly. He closed the door on his way out and checked the latch to be sure it was securely in place. Caval wondered how a koonrat could open it, even with their neat paws with almost human like fingers. The latch was about waist high and he had never seen a koonrat much bigger than a foot. They could have left the door open today, but koonrats had gotten into the shed before. They also had an uncanny ability to avoid any traps. The bait would be gone with the trap set off or sometimes not, but no koonrat. Some of the locals even thought that koonrats were just a myth, like magic, but Caval knew they existed. He was under orders from Bin to kill them on sight, but whenever he spied their waddling forms and twitching whiskers, he could not bring himself to harm them. He wished they would return the favor by not getting him in trouble. Caval took the lamp back with him to the house, as it was now full dark out. He hung it near the door and entered through the kitchen. His mother was doing dishes, and Lane and Roe were eating at the little table. They would not meet his eyes and his mother did not seem to notice him at all. Everyone else must be at the dining table. His stomach complained as he sneaked off to his room. The room that he shared with Frege was roughly L-shaped and furnished only sparingly. The beds consisted of old lumpy padding set onto plain wooden frames. A third bed was pushed upright against the wall near the corner to give them more room. It belonged to Dake, who traveled as far as he could from home and visited less and less. Caval did not blame him. Each bed had a small, three-drawer chest next to it, containing whatever clothes or personal things they owned. Caval's most valued possessions were his worn books, which he had lined up under his bed. He had gotten nineteen books from his mother, four from Caydi, seven from Dake, and had bought nearly thirty for himself. He practically knew every word of each book by heart. The turn in the L was divided off by a curtain and served as a small dressing alcove. He entered that now, peeling off his filthy overalls. His clothes had begun to harden and crusty mud flakes broke off as he removed them. He cleaned up, rubbing his skin nearly raw with a sandy scrubpad. As he retrieved his bedclothes, he noticed a carefully arranged gift on the chest next to his bed. It was a napkin containing a piece of mossloaf with jam, and a sweetroot. He knew his mother could not forget him. Her small interferences always made him feel a little better. She knew Bin treated him too harshly, though she did nothing to oppose him. Maybe she was afraid of his anger too, Caval rationalized. He ate hungrily as he dressed, then collapsed onto the bed on his stomach. * * * * * Caval woke with his bed trembling under him. He immediately rolled out of bed, getting his covers tangled around him as he dumped to the floor. He tried to run through the groundquake drill in his foggy mind. This was the right season for quakes. As the air turned colder, the ground released its built up heat in series of violent shivers. Frege's mocking laughter brought Caval to his senses. As he focused groggily on the end of his bed, he saw that it was his brother's booted foot, not nature, that had caused the motion beneath him. He crawled back into his bed and turned his back on his brother. Frege switched feet and proceeded to lace this boot as he had the other one, his exaggerated weaving motions causing Caval's bed to shake in its rickety frame. Caval groaned and covered his eyes with his arm. Frege had purposely set his lamp so that its glare was trained directly on him. The bright light still managed to seep under Caval's arm no matter how he tried to position it. He tossed his arm aside with a frustrated sigh and watched his brother's preparations with what he hoped was a threatening look. There was no light outside their single small window. It was still several hours before dawn. If Frege had not tricked him out of his chore, Caval would have had to get up at this hour anyway. The fire lizards lived in the Denzraa to the south. The desert plains were insufferably hot and tortuous to traverse during the day. In order to hunt the lizards or harvest the eggs, you had to go out in the desert while the night air kept the sands moderately cool. The thought of Frege loosing sleep in his place only reminded Caval of his treachery. He angrily kicked Frege's foot off his bed. "What a grouch." Frege tsk-tsked at Caval's irate behavior. Caval bit off an angry retort and closed his eyes to the smug look on Frege's face. Frege was purposely trying to provoke him and would laugh off any insults. He began humming loudly and tunelessly as he finished tying off the straps on the thigh-high boots. The boots had thick soles on the bottom to protect from various hazards and tiny vents on the inside arch to allow sweat to evaporate. The tough leather could also prevent sandsnake fangs from fully piercing the skin. It was unlikely that Frege would venture far enough into the more sandy parts of Denzraa to encounter the infamous vipers anyway. Too bad, Caval thought wickedly, enjoying the image of Frege tangled helplessly in a sandsnake's powerful coils. Frege tied off the last strap and left their room without turning out his light. Caval waited. He knew if he got up to turn off Frege's lamp that Frege would just come back in and turn it on again. His insight was confirmed when moments later Frege stomped back in the room and picked up a pair of gloves from the chest by his bed. He slapped the gloves noisily against his thigh as he left the room again without turning out his light. Caval winced at the whip-like sound the gloves made, mercilessly reminding him of his punishment the previous night. Caval still felt tired, but he knew he would not be able to get back to sleep now. The sooner he started his chores the sooner he would be finished, and then maybe he could hang out at the tavern with his friend Jarde. He dressed in similar overalls to the ones he had been wearing the day before and sealed boots for slopping. As he looked for his gloves he realized that Frege must of "accidentally" taken his. He picked up Frege's poorly cared for gloves. If he used them, he would end up with several blisters before the day was over. He muttered long creative curses as he headed for the kitchen. This day was not starting out any better than the last one had ended. Frege had already left, leaving behind a messy trail of half-prepared and half-eaten breakfast foods. No one else was awake yet. Without even thinking about it, he cleaned up after Frege as he grabbed a few cold bites for himself. He headed outside, taking the lantern he had left by the kitchen door the night before. He had trouble getting the lantern to light, but Yshraa cast enough for him to see his way. He could get more oil for the lantern in the supply shed. As he approached the shed, he saw something peculiar leaning against the door. At first he tried to rationalize that it was a lumpy sack of grain, but he knew he was the last one to go in the shed and he had left nothing out. He stopped still in his tracks and stared at the dark shape. It was moving. He was sure of it. The shape looked like a giant fuzzy caterpillar with a segmented body and a dozen limbs. Caval looked around to see if Frege was watching from somewhere nearby, trying to pull another trick on him. His brother was getting to be insufferable in the pranks he was coming up with to annoy him. Frege's peeking form was nowhere to be seen and there were not many places nearby that could hide his bulk. Caval heard the latch click on the shed door and turned back in time to see the door open. Its support gone, the caterpillar fell apart. The three segments appeared to move independently of each other. Two of the segments waddled into the shed while the other stood on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Caval remained perfectly still. His night adjusted eyes now recognized the shapes, but he could not believe what he was seeing. The third koonrat shrugged off its suspicion, entering the shed along with the other two. Only then did Caval move closer for a better look. He had always wondered how a koonrat could get into the shed. Now he knew it was not a koonrat at all, but several working together. They would have to get a lock for the door, unless the little bandits could pick locks too. He snorted at the image and saw the third koonrat perk up in alarm. He covered his smile with his hand, wanting to find out what the little creatures were up to. In the dim light he could not be sure, but he thought the third koonrat's fur looked purple and red. One of the others looked mostly dark green or maybe blue, and the last looked orange with small yellow spots. They all had the trademark, and very appropriate, bandit stripe across their eyes. Purple's nose twitched and its floppy ears swiveled loosely. It nodded its head at Orange and Orange copied Purple's actions, its long whiskers trembling. Green wandered obliviously over to a bag of fertilizer, one of the ones that had already been chewed on the day before. After a brief inspection it lost interest. It made chattering noises at Purple and Orange as if it were scolding them for being so skittish. Orange abandoned its alert pose and Purple squeaked angrily at the other two as if arguing that it had really had heard something. Green suddenly took interest in the wood flat under the fertilizer. It tried reaching under the tiny platform, then dug uselessly at the hard floor, only managing to scratch up small puffs of dust. Orange tilted its head, watching Green's actions with curiosity. Green squeaked in frustration and then squeaked demandingly at Purple. Purple looked unsure for a moment, as if not willing to abandon its watch. Orange waddled over to the door and took up a position near Purple, relieving it of duty. Caval was dumbfounded at their behavior. He must just be attributing human like traits to the animals' actions, but it really looked like they were talking with one another. He noted that Purple was smaller than the other two, an advantage that came into play when it wriggled under the flat and came back out with a small square object. It handed the object over to Green and immediately began fluffing its mussed fur. Green shined the object on Purple's just straightened fur, at which Purple squeaked in outrage, turning its back on the other two. Green chittered at Orange with excitement, holding up its prize. The starlight played off the copper token's surface as Green turned it this way and that. Caval guessed it was a bit of money left over from Frege's card game. Another angry obscenity slipped out in response to the resentment that memory stirred, and all three koonrat's perked up in response to his voice at close proximity. In a motion quicker than Caval's eyes could follow, Green made the gleaming coin disappear. The koonrats scattered and Caval watched their panicked forms blend into the dark, making no attempt to chase them. It was probably those very three that were involved in his punishment last night, but he could not hold them to blame. Bin would have found any reason to beat on Caval if he was in the mood for it. He trudged into the shed, picking out the tools he would need to slop out the snorter pen. He dumped the shovels in a wheelbarrow along with a large sack of myllet. He wheeled the supplies over to the pen with the lit lantern dangling from one of the handles. The lantern swung around crazily as he struggled forward, making the shadows on every side of him take turns approaching and departing in a hastily choreographed dance. The snorters were nowhere to be seen in the small enclosure, but Caval knew they were there. He could hear the soft grunting of snores coming from nostrils resting just above the ooze. The snorters' bodies were hidden under the mud which served as both insulation and padding for their beds. He hung the lantern on the side of their shelter, then put on Frege's stiff gloves. Again he growled obscenities with his brother's name interspersed and prayed that Benygn's burning rays would give Frege an unpleasant scorching worthy of the Denzraa's deepest heart. * * * * * The rim of Denzraa was eerily still in the twilight hours. An orn hooted a challenge from the last dead tree Frege stomped past. He ignored the dumb bird and the gloomy scenery and the loose heel on one boot that farted at every other step. He would not allow these things to depress his mood that had been cheered by teasing his bratty stepbrother. Frege flexed his gloved hands and smiled. Caval got both the snorter pen and the wyrn roost. He never expected Dad to be so generous. Maybe Dad would give Caval the chore of collecting more fertilizer from the longhorn pastures too. He was glad Dad didn't spoil Caval or Caydi with more favor than him or Lonyni. Everyone else, even his own brother, seemed to give Caval more attention. Maybe it was because he wouldn't listen to Dake's stupid Faerie tales or be impressed by his lousy slight of hand tricks. He had to admit he was envious of Caval's closeness to his brother and he was irritated that Caval could love Dake shamelessly, yet not even show him the tiniest amount of respect. Caval respected Bin at least, that was for sure. Frege thought of Bin's grim look at dinner the night before. He was afraid that Caval had blurted out accusations in a futile attempt to save his own ass. He knew Dad hated gaming because of Gamblin' Gramps, but Frege wasn't addicted like that old fool. He just liked it, and he rarely lost so where was the harm. He was mostly stuck playing with the ranchos, but still, cheating those ignorant rubes out of their wages was fun. The one thing that Dake had told him about that had captured Frege's interest was gambling halls. He often secretly envisioned visiting one, picturing other people from all over losing their fortunes to his deft dealing. Just as he had finished cleaning his plate of the juices left over from the thick longhorn steak, sopping them up with the soft core of a mossloaf, he had noticed his father watching him as if he could read his errant thoughts. He suddenly realized that had forgotten to take the cards out of his pocket and hide them in his room. He resisted the impulse to look down at the thin concealment offered by his threadbare workshirt. Had Dad seen a telltale bulge there? Frege's mind raced. If asked, he would say it was a smokepack. Sahri would be mad, but it was definitely the lesser of two evils. But what if she asked him to give it up? He would have to get her to leave the room before he was questioned. With smooth politeness he asked Sahri for seconds but Lonyni jumped up instead. "I'll get it." She piped, proud of her dutiful help. Sahri thanked her kindly and continued eating her baked rootbuds. Lonyni grabbed at his plate and he momentarily resisted. He was tempted to pull her back down in her seat by grabbing a handful of her lank hair, covering up the rough treatment by offering to get himself another steak. In the kitchen, he could hide the cards until he could retrieve them. Only the fact that he never offered to serve himself would give him dead away. Lonyni took up Suvi's small plate as well and the baby started banging her spoon on the table and chanting. "Nyni, Nyni, Nyni!" Suvi smiled goofily at her half sister, pasted peas smeared across her dimpled cheeks. She then reached up with her hands and began rubbing the messy spoon on her head. Distracted by his daughter's childish antics, Bin seemed to shake off whatever he was pondering. He handed Lonyni his plate and demanded another. Frege survived the dinner with what must have been his best game face ever. Reaching the rim of the desert, Frege skirted around, keeping alert for hunting markers that would point to a lizard's nest. He investigated dozens of likely hollows, but all were empty. Frege was righteously angry at this overt robbery. This arm of the desert that touched their farm was considered part of their property and someone had taken the liberty of harvesting all of their marked claims. He would have to tell Dad. Nervously chewing at a corner of his lip, he looked with trepidation at the bright horizon over the Denzraa. He would have to push in further and the sun was already rising. * * * * * Caval continued his crude swearing in an almost cheery litany as he entered the pen with another grain bag, carefully judging the lay of buried snorter bodies by the orientation of the nostrils. He had made a game of using as many foul words as he could think of, having learned quite a few colorful phrases from visits to his friend at the local tavern. The release of expletives took his mind off the drudgery of the work as he methodically spread the tiny kernels of myllet around him. It was a struggle just to move at first as he sank into the mud up to his knees, but as the absorbant grains began soaking up the slop, he was able to move a little easier around the waking snorters. Some of the animals approached him, sniffed one of his mud caked legs with mild curiosity, then ambled off. The others stared at him resentfully, knowing that he was cleaning out their carefully built up nest, or watched him intently, hoping he would drop some bit of garbage for them to chew on. Caval was glad for their tempered personalities because some of the shaggy beasts were quite large, and both males and females were equipped with long curving tusks. The tusks broke off intermittently making the shorter tusks even sharper and more dangerous. The swirled ivory shards weren't valuable, but could be carved into little trinkets. Lonyni carved some fairly elaborate game pieces and some handles for kitchenware. She had a decent knack for it. Every windowsill in the house had at least one token of her artistry. He collected some of the larger spikes to give to her later. He worked hard all day and it took eighteen full bags of grain to absorb the mess, but he was finished with plenty of time before supper. Caval dumped the last batch of the swollen grain into one of the large canisters by the tool shed, where it would dry into large hard nuggets that could be used for fuel. Surprisingly, the slow burning nuggets smelled more like sweet cooking bread than the gross muck they had absorbed. Caval put away the tools in the shed and carefully shut the door. He rattled it in his frame to ensure that the latch had caught and then fastened a piece of wire from the door handle to the lantern hook. Since the door opened inward, the koonrats would have to remove the wire to open it. In order to do that they would have to stack themselves at least five or six bodies high to reach the twist at the lantern hook, and he did not think that even they were that tenacious. They would have to find an easier target for their thieving raids. Satisfied at his solution to the pests, he headed for the house. After taking his boots off outside the kitchen door, he walked quietly to his room. Though he wanted to rush to clean up, he didn't want to attract any attention that would result in Bin finding out he was already finished and then assigning him more chores to do. He had definitely done his share for the day. He managed to reach his room undetected and he quickly scrubbed and dressed. He put on his cleanest shirt and trousers, then donned his new boots and favorite vest. All were tinted complementary shades of browns and cut in the loose local fashion. The sleeves of the shirt were marked with the Farm Union's crossed crook and sickle. Bin's father joined the Union when the farm was floundering in near ruin and Bin now had to pay a yearly tithe. The specifics of the deal were unknown to Caval, but Bin seemed not to worry while other farms folded around them, unable to withstand the years of dry weather. The vest was made of a courser material, with embroidered symbols representing the crops and beasts they raised, as well as the number of seasons they planted. The spot over his heart where his individual rank should be displayed was blank. An intentionally insulting omission, as a working son, he should rank higher than the ranch hands. He did not let it bother him. He took orders from no one but Bin when he could get away with it. All the clothes were lightly perfumed with scented salts. Caval usually wrinkled his nose at the slight odor, but it was now a great relief. It covered the persistent musky smell that still clung to his skin from two days of immersion in snorter slop. Caval heard the thump of another pair of boots being set outside the kitchen door and realized his own could give him away. Instead of taking the chance of going back through the house, he climbed out his window, carelessly knocking over the trio of figurines on the sill and heading for the tavern in an all out run. * * * * * Frege searched fruitlessly for hours in increasingly wider arcs, leaving behind the safety of the hard baked clay and crossing sliding grainy sands. He walked in carefully measured steps, alternately listening for the rushing hiss of a tunneling sandsnake. Step, listen, step, listen. It took maddening patience, which was definitely not one of his strong qualities. He generally avoided the infrequent outcroppings of rock or the long-rooted plants, which could echo footfalls down to the waiting snakes, but mentally noted their positions for later dashes to safety if the snakes detected him in spite of his care. He searched every depression in the sand that could have been lizard dug but he found only one nest of rotten eggs, the fouled shells crumbling under his groping hand. Nearby he found the carcass of the mother missing its head. What a waste. He guessed that disproved the childish rumor that fire lizards could be regrown from two halves, well, at least that half. He finally had to take a rest break. He regretted sneering at Caval, who always hunted lizards with the provisions of someone going on a real hunt. "You never know how far you'll have to go in...or how far you'll dare to go in, even if you don't have to." Caval had taunted in return, as if he had ever stepped foot off the clay rim. "All right troops, no sign of the target to be acquired as of yet." He addressed his hot feet through parched lips. "Let's march over to that rock that's kind of shaped like a dragon and call a halt." He adjusted the harness of the padded harvest sack to loosen it from his sweating back and mopped the moisture from his face with his sleeve. He then continued his careful stepping toward a red-gold group of rocks that did indeed look like a mythical dragon in sleepy repose, with jutting points of rock that even resembled folded wings. As he approached, the optical illusion of the grouping did not dispel and break up into individually sand worn boulders as Frege thought it would. The closer he got, the more finely arranged the rocks seemed. Finally, he froze in his tracks, his suddenly paralyzed legs allowing him to go no further. "Men, it looks like we have a heat casualty." He whispered fearfully to himself. His mind would still not allow him to accept what was lying right in front of his face. "A victim of severe sunstroke having vivid hallucinations." At the quiet sound of his voice, four great eyes opened languidly. Two long, triangular heads lifted sinuously out of the sand. An immense body slowly rolled onto four feet sending a shower of tiny grains cascading off a muscular red-gold flank. A doubled set of membranous wings resettled across a broad back with a rustling flap. Frege tilted his head back in awe as the creature gracefully revealed it's genuine nature. It was a living, breathing - he noted a whisp of smoke curling from one of the heads and corrected himself - fire-breathing, two-headed monster of a dragon. First one head yawned, then the other, revealing two formidable sets of curved fangs. The first head looked down at him, shrinking him to insignificance with its green-eyed glare, while the other head sniffed him like a curious hound. Frege involuntarily coughed at the stench of a sickly green vapor leaking from the nostrils of the snuffling head. "Pessst." The first head exhaled, another curl of smoke slipping out of its jaws. Frege was too terrified to be insulted by the lowly designation and when he did not respond, the dragon spoke again. "Kiill?" The speaking head drawled in its peculiar lisping way. "No. No kill. Killing is bad. Evil even. Never kill." Frege babbled, snapping out of the shock that a living, fire-breathing, two-headed, talking monster of a dragon was attempting to converse with him. He nervously awaited the deathblow he knew would come at any moment, eyeing the dragon's long forked tail as it twitched back and forth in the sand, and imagining it impaling him with one quick flick. Instead, the dragon appeared satisfied. He could even swear it was smiling at him with a hideous approximation of a grin. "Sssoon, pessst." With that warning, it extended its vast wings out from its serpentine body, the doubled membranes overlapping like an insects, but the span so great that he could not see their tips without turning his head. The legs bunched up beneath the dragon and with a powerful spring and several forceful downbeats, the beast took to the air. The wingstrokes stirred up a mini-whirlwind that scoured Frege's sunburned cheeks with sand, but he heedlessly kept his eyes open, unable to tear his gaze away from the low-flying red-gold shape, then low-flying red-gold speck, then nothing. * * * * * Caval's heart was pounding when he finally came to a skidding halt at the backside of the tavern. It wasn't the exercise that had his heart racing, but ingrained guilt for dodging more chores and the fear of getting caught. He entered the tavern hastily, almost running into Jarde's father Bvord, who was wheeling out several large kegs to join other empties by the backdoor. "Good noon t'ya." Bvord gripped Caval's shoulder with good-natured affection. Caval returned his greeting, resisting the urge to imitate his thick northern accent. Bvord was an absolute giant, at least two hands taller than Bin who was a very large man, and much thicker around the middle. As Caval's eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the interior of the tavern, he answered friendly questions after his family's welfare. "Yer sister's shapin up nicely, though she tries to 'ide it with them saggy outfits of 'ers." Bvord noted with a hint of amusement at the boyish overalls she tended to wear, but without any lurid undertones. Caval knew that he was inquiring after Caydi as a possible bonding prospect for his son, but without much real hope. Jarde would not measure up to Bin's expectations. Caval frowned slightly and Bvord shook his head in rueful understanding, reading Caval's regretful thoughts perfectly after years of studying his customers' faces. "'ee's tending the bar fer me while I load barrels. I'm sending 'im off to the vineyards tonight." Bvord nodded towards the bar clapping him on the back with a benevolent shove that almost threw him across the room. There were already a few tired farmers at the bar, sedately sipping at brimming flagons. The scattered tables were empty and would probably remain so with the population dwindling and business being so poor. Seeing Caval tenderly plant himself on a high stool, Jarde immediately came over and plunked down a pint of some fruity flavored concoction. Caval dutifully took a long swallow and his empty stomach automatically recoiled at the too sweet drink. He grabbed a handful of complimentary toasted fritts out of a wooden bowl on the bar and chewed away the taste in his mouth. "Sorry." Jarde apologized as he noted Caval's grimace. "Ryekt with redberry left over from Maghi." "'ere," He added a dollop of a limony juice to sour the drink down after fairly spitting out the name of the offender that ordered the sickly mixture. Caval had recognized the mixture without being told, and was actually frowning at the name ryekt, which was often one of Frege's pet insults for him. Diluted ryekt gave a giddy sort of drunkeness with no hangover. Straight ryekt could be used to induce vomiting in a victim of poisoning or to kill infection in an open wound. It was one of the primary ingredients in sandsnake antivenom. Though overall it was a substance of benefit, it was not a complimentary nickname. He continued to crunch on the fritts until Jarde brought him over a fresh loaf of bread. Maghi was an unbonded daughter of a mediocre cook, and she was even less talented in that area. Caval chewed on the tough loaf with enthusiasm born purely of unsated hunger. "So, Maghi's been gracing you with her presence again?" Caval taunted his friend unfairly as he continued to fill his stomach with chunks of the bland bread. Jarde just growled incoherently at the very unwelcomed and embarrassing advances from the old widow's daughter, his scarred face twisting into an ominous scowl. The left side of his face had been cut from eyebrow to chin while breaking up a brawl over her and he never forgave her for it. He was lucky he did not lose an eye, but the long thin scar managed to give his plain features character rather than marring them. "At least you have a choice to fall back on." Caval commented, not entirely facetiously. Brimmon was a very small town and there were no suitable girls his age. As he entered his teens, the lack became more and more manifest to him. Social events were not a high priority with the crops suffering from the drought and needing extra care. He would even appreciate advances from Maghi, but she was at least ten years older than him and still regarded him as a child. She would be a closer match for Jarde who was Frege's age. "'ow is your sister?" Jarde asked pointedly, brushing his long reddish hair out of his face as he leaned over the counter. "Oh, Lonyni is still as free as ever." Caval again teased. Jarde let out a hearty guffaw at the mere suggestion. "Aye, and free she'll probably stay unless Bin ups her dower." Hagov, a nearby local who couldn't help overhearing added, "He'd have to pay a fool's fortune to get rid of that one." "I dunno," a grubby looking gentleman whose name Caval couldn't place feigned serious consideration, "I think I'd take her." "You'd take a gyack if it would even look at yer homely kisser." Egric, a surly ranch hand, threw in. Even though he did not much like his stepsister, Caval could not help but be a little put off by the rude commentary. He decided to change the subject before it got more explicit. "I'm sorry, Jarde, but this tastes like koonrat piss." Caval complained roughly pushing the half-empty mug away. "This damn weather is causing the best fruits to rot right off the vines and the finest grains to wither to nothing. We'll be lucky to produce any good wines or ales at'all this year. Ryekt may be the only liquor left." Jarde's observation was met by knowing groans all around at how the weather could easily ruin the sensitive crops that made up all of their favorite beverages. Ryekt came from a tough-rinded melon that sprung up everywhere and grew year round. A barrage of orders for refills ensued as if the tavern was going to run dry at that exact moment. Jarde filled the farmers' mugs with practiced skill, not needing to ask them to repeat the names of their drinks. Finally he replaced Caval's drink with a thin ale that Caval gulped down with much greater appreciation. "So 'ow would you know what koonrat piss tastes like." Jarde asked, finally responding to Caval's earlier insult. "He would have to imagine it, since there is no such thing." The grubby man chuckled. Caval should have been wearier, but the mixture of drinks must have been getting to him. "They're real all right. I saw a trio of the critters just this morning." "You did, did you?" Egric asked, getting off his stool and moving closer to Caval. "Sure." Caval confirmed, immediately beginning to regret his loose tongue. "Not just one of the destructive beasties, but three?" Hagov questioned doubtfully. "Sounds like you've got an infestation." "We've all got an infestation of the damn things. They got into some of our fresh market bins the other day, getting away with a good portion of our stores and ruining what they didn't eat." Egric growled, having no trouble believing in the nuisance. "So where's the tails?" "It was dark, and they scurried away before I even realized what they were." Caval lied. He thought that they should be controlled, not exterminated. "You saw them and you let them get away." Egric poked an angry finger into Caval's shoulder. Caval pushed Egric's hand away. "I had work to do. I couldn't waste time chasing rats in the dark." Jarde took a step forward. He was almost as tall as his father and almost as lean as Caval. In spite of his youth, he had plenty of experience in dealing with hot heads. For those that were unaware of his fighting skills, his stature usually earned him some respect. "Give me a 'and, son" Bvord called as he trundled in the lift for more empties. Jarde was momentarily torn by the desire to stand by his friend and the impetus to obey his father, but at the sound of Bvord's voice, Egric quickly sat down like an errant child. Jarde did not smile, but Caval could see the amusement in his eyes as he turned to help his father load kegs. As soon as Jarde and Bvord were out of the main tavern room and into a side room where the kegs were stored, Egric leaned back into Caval's face. "I can't believe you let them get away." "C'mon Egric, he was probably seeing things. You want the boy to be running after shadows?" The grubby man pulled at Egric's sleeve. "Back off, Szully." He snarled, tossing off the other man's grip and nearly striking him with the motion. "No shadows damaged our stores." Caval glanced toward the storeroom but Jarde and his father were still occupied. Not to be cowed by lack of support, he leveled his gaze directly at Egric. "I told you I had work to do." "So much work that you've got no time left over." He sneered. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Egric." He exhaled in Egric's too close face. "I guess you're right." Egric drawled, appearing to turn away with a hands-off gesture, then jerking back for a heavy punch to Caval's jaw. Caval was knocked off the barstool, but before he hit the ground Hagov and Szully were already up and restraining Egric from further misdirected violence. "He's just a boy." Hagov exclaimed in an attempt to pacify him. "What's gotten into you, man?" Szully barked as Egric continued to struggle against them and he got an elbow in the chest. Hearing the commotion, Jarde and Bvord came out of the storeroom in a rush. Jarde was quicker and he vaulted the bar, neatly placing himself between his dazed friend and the ranch hand. Egric broke free of his companions, but perceiving he was clearly outnumbered on this issue, decided to save face by seeing himself out, but not before he aimed a warning at Caval. "I think your father would like to hear about this." Caval groaned, and not from the ache in his jaw. Bvord lifted him to his feet with one hand while righting the barstool with the other. "He's probably to pay for the damaged stores out of his own wages. You know how Josep is." Hagov explained as an apology for his friend. "Tempers run hot with the weather." Caval waved off the apology as he massaged his chin and tried to ignore the reignited pain from the fall on his lashed backside. "I better get home." The ranchers nodded in understanding and turned back to their drinks. Bin was known for his temper as much as Josep was for being cheap. "Are ya sure, Caval?" Jarde and Bvord voiced at the same time in concerned tones. "Putting it off won't help." Caval sighed resignedly, but he did take a moment to down the rest of his ale. He stepped outside, squinting his eyes in the transition from the dim tavern to the bright sunshine of the setting sun. As much as he put on a brave accepting face in front of his friend, his stomach was turning with the anticipation of facing Bin's anger yet again in such a short span of time. Maybe Egric's threat was empty, he hoped, maybe he would walk off his anger and just continue on home. Caval's mouth twisted, not likely. Passing Josep's would only serve to remind him of the mischevious vermin who cost him hard earned wages. Caval thought of his own meager earnings which were spent as soon as they were granted on books and new clothes and things that he believed Bin should be providing without cost. He reached the house just as Egric was leaving. Egric's hateful look dashed any hopes Caval had of Egric only taunting him and not carrying through with his tattling, but maybe Bin was out in the field and not around to hear his accusations. He walked in on raised voices. His mother was begging Bin to sleep on it. Bin was so angry his face was beyond red to an unhealthy purple. Caval's shoulders slumped resignedly, he already did the snorter pen and had the wyrn coop to do tomorrow. That was pretty much the worse Bin could throw at him. What else was there? Maybe he should have postponed his return, permanently. He sighed and Bin raised his fist at him, but without saying anything, spun stiffly on his bootheels, and stomped off towards the kitchen. Caval heard the crash of the kitchen table covered with fragile dishes being overturned in a tantrum, and then the whole house reverberated with the loud slam of the backdoor. His mother's eyes were closed as if concentrating on retaining control on her own anger. When she finally opened them, the tight-lipped disapproving look she gave him was more devastating than any of Bin's hardest blows. She walked slowly toward the kitchen, maintaining a dignified posture with similar stiff effort to Bin's. He knew she was not going to follow Bin, but to clean up in his wake. Caval sunk back against the doorjam like someone who has been passed by a tornado while everything before him had been destroyed. He did not have to be told that he would not be welcome at dinner. Later as he lay on his bed rereading his favorite book without really absorbing the words, he wished fervently that his mother would stand up for him and protect him from any further unfair treatment. It was not his fault that the koonrats now included their farmland to be within their foraging territory. He couldn't control wild animals, especially intelligent ones. Or could he? He wondered if there was some way to communicate with the little creatures, as they seemed to do with each other. But to tell them what? Leave our farm alone so my stepfather will stop beating me? He didn't know. But there must be some reason the rats were so boldly raiding farms. Maybe he was working it too much with his imagination. They were animals and it was a dry season. It could be just as simple as that. He fell asleep with the tempting dinner smells filling his nostrils, sating himself only with the knowledge he would get the leftovers for breakfast. * * * * * Having fallen asleep so early, he woke up as early as he had the previous day. He glanced over at the snoring lump in the next bed and immediately his helpless anger was rekindled. He blearily wondered how he could disappoint Bin so much when he seemed to place high value on honesty and hard work. Qualities that Caval practiced religiously while Frege only feigned them when Bin was witness. He couldn't possibly be so easily fooled, yet it just didn't seem to matter. Caval sat up and swallowed down those negative thoughts. Yesterday was in the past. Only the task that lay ahead for this day would not allow his mood to improve. Well, again, the sooner he got started the sooner he would be finished. He saw his gloves tossed carelessly on the floor. They were sun-dried, sweated in, and there was something disgusting in the creases, rotten egg it looked like. He just left them on the floor and entered the dressing alcove. He put on his work clothes, adding small padded shields to armor his shins and thighs. His boots were still outside the kitchen door. He went down into the root cellar through the kitchen, enjoying the shock of the cool dirt floor on his bare feet. The leftovers from dinner were wrapped and stowed right near the stairs. His mother had prepared blue griffish with spicy green rice and a mixture of bittersweet legumes. He didn't bother to carry the food back up to reheat. He ate as much of the cold portions as he dared, noting with surprise that the rack for firelizard eggs was still almost empty. Did Frege shirk the simple chore after all the production he went through? Caval had re-marked most of the sites himself the last time he harvested so the task should have been effortless enough even for his brother. Though he emptied several nests only a fortnight ago, the lizards were so prolific that lost eggs were no concern, they would just immediately produce another batch like mindless egg factories. And he realized, Frege hadn't hid a firegland in his bed. The fire lizard's defense mechanism against predators was a gland underlying their scaly hide that would fill an attacker's mouth with a substance similar to scalding wax. His distraction the previous night would have been ideal for the overplayed gag. Caval shrugged to himself as he rewrapped the leftovers and headed back up to the kitchen. He hissed through his teeth and hopped on one foot over to the counter as he felt a splinter stab in his heel. He had stepped on an overlooked sliver of some dish that had been smashed by Bin's furious passage the night before. He picked out the tiny piece of porcelain and threw it down the sink. He wondered if Bin would forget how angry he was and maybe for once just let it go. Yeah right, and a longhorn will leap the moons. After pulling on the crusty slop boots, he headed out to the toolshed, again. Thankfully, his wire was still in place. As he undid the twist, he felt as if someone was watching him. He swung the lantern around, but saw nothing unusual. "Hello?" He called out. Still nothing. He gathered tools, secured the shed, and headed for the coop. He would have liked to cut across the drycorn field, but the wide wheelbarrow could damage the ripe stalks and the burning oil in the lantern could light them up like a torch. Not a good idea. As he circled around the field, he thought he could hear rustling among the stalks like someone following him. Every time he paused the noise ceased. He was scaring himself, imagining a spookwynet coming to life and wielding a large sharpened scythe. He peered out into the field and studied the raised posts. One was missing a figure. His heart began to pound, and he spun around at the snap of a twig, expecting the apparition to be right behind him. Nothing. He quickly turned back to the field and then he saw it, the large overstuffed doll was sagging low, but was exactly where it should be. He felt like collapsing or laughing, or collapsing into a fit of laughing. Wiccimas was not far off, and the holiday theme must have been infecting his thoughts. He picked up the handles and wheeled the rest of the way around the field, now ignoring the incidental noises of swaying leaves or settling earth. He should ask his mother to make him a new costume this year, or maybe even Caydi would. She was perfecting her weaving skills and might like the challenge. He reached the coop and a soft, unsettled honking started. The wyrns were sleepily warning him to stay away from their roost. The sound was not as threatening as the large dyrebeast skull that hung on the outside of the coop facing away from the farm. For someone who didn't believe in magic, Bin was decidedly superstitious. The coop was divided into twelve partitions by thin wood and wyrnwire. Each partition had one male and five females. Any more than that in a single partition, or even allow them to see each other in separate partitions, and no bird would survive the resulting riotous bloodbath. Wyrn brains were smaller than a shriveled pea and seemed to hold only bullying and hateful intentions. That kind of reminded him of certain family members, he smiled grimly. The design of the coop was also meant for only eleven of the partitions to be filled so the birds could be shifted down as one cleaned by lifting the wooden centerpieces. However, Bin wanted the money an extra six birds could provide. Caval walked the length of the coop and decided to clean the outer sections first and then work his way in as Benygne rose and granted him light. It was tedious work. He had to continually herd the birds to one side of the partition and not turn his back on them. Even so, the cowards kept trying to attack him, and some succeeded, pecking at his unprotected knees. He so wanted to kick the filthy offenders away, but couldn't risk breaking their stupid, skrawny necks. Instead he stretched out and flapped his arms, and after each demonstration of his greater wingspan they were temporarily cowed. Even so, his presence caused their lulled honks to rise to repetitive, high-pitched shrieks. After several hours, he had to take a break from the stench and the screeching. He paced off a distance and laid down in the shade. He knew he should return home for a reenergizing lunch, but the thought of running into Bin killed whatever appetite he managed to retain after the unbelievable odor of the wyrn droppings. After a short while, he steeled himself and returned to the job. When he finally finished, he had a splitting headache. He barely remembered stumbling through the motions of putting the tools away, and on the way to his room to change, running into Suvi who knew no better than to giggle at his feathered clothing, and after cleaning up, laying in his bed thinking he was going to shut his eyes just for a minute before dinner. * * * * * He jumped when a hand lightly touched his shoulder. "It's time to get up, Caval." His sister Caydi whispered. She glanced worriedly towards the door. Her loose dark curls were done up in some half hazard fashion, and she was dressed in overalls that were way too big for her. The look would be comical on another girl, but somehow she managed to still look feminine. She preferred to dress practically as opposed to Lonyni's pompous dresses. But then again, Lonyni needed all the distraction that outrageous clothing could provide. Lonyni seemed to have inherited all of the most undesirable traits from her father. To say that she was not very pleasant to look at was an understatement. Her excessive yellowy hair hung limply from her head like wet straw, falling over a rough face that would scare a dyrebeast. Her tall body was as disproportional and gawky as a gyak foal's, and she had about as much brains as one. The only way she could usefully contribute to the farm would be to marry for a land bond, but all her prospective husbands practically fainted in horror when they saw her. The polite ones would recover with gentle non-compliments like "Your parents' descriptions do your true appearance no justice" or "Your parents are too modest when they tell of your looks". Then Lonyni would blush happily and look dreamily at them with her droopy longhorn eyes. The men would be forced to come up with some poor stuttered excuse for having to leave so soon and would practically break down the door in their haste to depart. That is, of course, unless they saw Caydi. Caydi already had several good offers that Bin was ready to jump at, but their mother, at least on this matter, was firm. Caydi would not be bonded until she was at least Lonyni's age. That gave her more than a year. Caval was relieved. He did not want to see his sister traded for land to some rich lord. She would be treated no better than a mindnumb gullah, expected to serve every wish without question. Caval regarded his sister sleepily. Caydi was his true sister. She had the same mother and father he did. They had similar facial features, hers slightly thinner and more exotic like their mother. Reflecting on Bin's children, maybe Caval's looks were not so tragic - cuteness, blue eyes, and all. The irises of Caydi's feline-shaped eyes glinted like dark emeralds in the light from the doorway. That observation triggered a faint memory from his dream. He vaguely remembered something troubling. Before he could reconstruct the image, she interrupted his thoughts. "Ma and Bin want to talk to you." She added louder and more urgently. The fleeting forms were forced from his mind and he sighed tiredly as he sat up. This day was not going to start well either, another argument with his stepfather. "Get your lazy bod out of bed!" Frege yelled from his bed nearby, unnecessarily loud. Caval did not have to look to know that Frege was glaring at the both of them. Seeing his frown, his sister rolled her eyes and smirked with dark humor. Frege flopped over and pulled his bedsheet over his head, pretending to ignore the both of them. Caydi had a sharp tongue that Frege no longer tried to contest. As a stubborn bully, he did not like to be made a fool of. Caval had to smile too. Satisfied, she left so he could get ready. He stepped into the dressing alcove, but there were no clean scrubbers. Another irritating trick of Frege's he was sure, so he just got dressed without a word, throwing on the same clothes he had worn to the tavern the other day. He sniffed at himself experimentally. There was only a light taint but he suspected his nose was somewhat desensitized after the last couple days. "Dad'll beat you again for making him wait all morning, I hope." Frege grumbled. Caval tried not to show how sore he still was, a condition he knew Frege would glorify in. It seemed like Frege was not going to be happy unless Caval was mad at him for some reason. That alone was enough to irritate him and spoil his mood. Trying to hurry without seeming like it, Caval made his way to the kitchen. Bin was seated at the small table, slurping some of his mother's special morning brew. Instead of giving him a hug as usual, his mother remained standing quietly behind his stepfather's chair. She was looking down at her hands, wiping them carefully on a dishcloth. He imagined that they had already had some discussion involving him, and the result was not good. Whatever Bin wanted to say was serious. He remained standing at the end of the table, waiting nervously for Bin's attention. His stiff backside warned him not to sit down. As his stepfather started on a second helping of creamed rootbuds, without fire lizard eggs Caval noted, Caval could not stop himself from fidgeting. He began picking imaginary dirt specks from his shirtsleeve until Bin cleared his throat noisily. "Son," Bin began, looking as if he would rather just hit Caval than talk to him. "Me and your Mum are worried about your future." Having got that out, he took another swallow of brew and looked Caval over for a few minutes. He looked more menacing than concerned Caval thought. "You've got fourteen years on ya, and not one skill to show for it." His stepfather stated with a frown. Caval had not yet turned fourteen, but he knew better than to correct Bin over a triviality. He waited for Bin to continue. And waited. Bin was just staring at him. "Uh, I think we've talked about this before," Caval ventured cautiously, "I just haven't been able to decide..." "What's to decide!" Caval flinched. Bin was losing hold on his temper already. "You could at least ask for apprenticing with some trade if you don't wanna be a grower." Bin seemed to be straining against his wish to grab Caval and shake sense into him. His huge frame made the little table look like toy furniture, an image that would be funny if it was not so threatening. "He'd rather make believe about monsters, faeries, and magic." Frege intoned with mock drama, entering the kitchen. He had not reported his desert encounter to anyone, other than dazedly telling Bin about the robbed lizard nests to explain his empty harvest sack. It was just some kind of mirage, he almost managed to convince himself, just a mental trick. He had been thinking about Dake's stories and he had waited too long before resting from the sun. Only his dreams were plagued by a red-gold mountain that turned into a laughing monster. "I don't pretend anything, magic is real!" Caval insisted through gritted teeth, Frege's untimely presence aggravating him. At the mention of magic his stepfather jumped up and shook his fist at Caval. "Those are just tall tales!" "How do you know? You've never even been beyond the nearest towns!" Caval yelled back in frustration, maintaining a careful distance from Bin's flapping arm. "There - is - no - magic!" Bin roared, punctuating his words with bangs on the shaky table. "That's not what Dake says." Caval countered defiantly. This was the first time he had not meekly submitted to avoid one of his stepfather's blowouts, but he could no longer bear to act dumb and he would no longer concede to his stepfather's closed-minded opinions. Bin was startled into silence by mention of his uncontrollable son, but he recovered quickly. "Dake is a fool!" He growled, dismissing Caval's insolence with a wave of his arm. "And if you insist on listening to stupid lies and not working, there is nothing we can do for you. But we can't let you be a burden to us. So what's your trade?" His mother gasped at his stepfather's bluntness, softening the impact on Caval slightly. She worried about his future too, but knew he did not want to spend his life tending wilted crops. Caval was too shocked to respond right away. Dake admitted to using a little embellishment, but he would never flat out lie. As an entertainer, he had to make his stories sound fantastic, but they were all true. They had to be. The most unbelievable thing to Caval was that Bin was Dake's father. There couldn't be two people that were more opposite in nature. He tried to organize his thoughts so he could appeal to Bin's reason. Mentioning Dake had obviously been a big mistake. "Uh huh, I thought so, " Frege spoke up deviously. "He doesn't want a trade, the freeloading..." "Frege!" Sahri admonished. Undaunted Frege continued, this was it, his chance to get rid of any more references to magic, or dragons. "You don't wanna work here, so get a paying trade or get out! Make more room for those who know the value of hard work. Make this his last day, Dad." Caval could not believe his ears. He worked harder than Frege ever did, and Frege was five years his senior. But warming to the idea, Bin sat back down to his breakfast. "Come for sup tonight with a trade, or that'll be your last meal with us." "What's going on in here?" Lonyni asked, strolling through the door in one of her typically gaudy dresses. Caval was too hurt and angry to tell her what happened. He knew she had probably been eavesdropping anyway. He stormed out of the kitchen. "Caval?" His mother spoke up weakly. Though he was loath to ignore her, he knew she would do nothing to help him. He ran into his baby sister Suvi in the hallway again. She was rubbing her eyes and yawning. A beat up old doll hung limply from the crook of one arm. "Cal!" She spouted with typical childlike enthusiasm and held up her arms. Since she had never been anything more than a nuisance, he spared her the smallest rebuttal. "Not now." He grumped as he pushed past her. What should have finally been a well-earned day of relaxation was now going to be the worse day of his life. He mentally listed his only possible destinations as he headed for the center of their town. There was the tavern that all the locals also used as a meeting house, and the blacksmith. If he wanted to apprentice a different trade, he would have to go to another town, but the nearest one was about three hours away by foot. Then he would have to be interviewed, tested, and accepted by a Master. There would be no way he could accomplish all that before supper, which he had a feeling was just what Bin wanted. He wouldn't mind working at the tavern with his friend Jarde, he thought as he trudged along, but he knew that Bvord could not afford to hire him. All his customers were moving away as their farms failed. The local blacksmith also doubled as a carpenter. He always needed extra hands around the shop as he personally handled general farm repairs. He kicked at the gravel in front of himself as he walked. The small stones spun off and clattered out of sight. It was still dark out. Both moons had set, but the sun had not yet risen over the desert mountains to the south. As he passed a neighbor's pasture, a longhorn lowed plaintively in apparent sympathy. It was soon echoed by a few others from the herd. "Shut up you stupid animals." He shouted angrily as he made his decision. He turned away from the field towards the smith. "If I want to stay here, I'll have to spend the rest of my life slaving over other people's metals." Caval thought with increasing frustration. Then he stopped dead still in his tracks. "If I want to stay here!" He almost laughed out loud. His mind began opening to the possibilities. He was free to choose his own destiny. He could forge his future instead of slag. He would not have to clean any more pens or coops. He would not have an overbearing stepfather beating him for everything he did or did not do. His momentary elation was stifled by the thought of going back home to tell them his decision, especially since he did not have any specific destination or trade in mind. But he could not just take off, leaving his mother and sister to worry about what happened to him. As he stood momentarily paralyzed by indecision, he heard someone coming up the road behind him. He turned around and saw his sister's form detach itself from the early morning shadows. She was carrying some awkward bundles. "Caval!" Caydi called breathlessly. She must have run all the way from their house. "How did you...?" Caval began, but she would not let him finish. "Take this." She managed to gasp as she heaved a small travel bag and drought pouch at him. He had noticed her conspicuous absence in the kitchen, but now he assumed she heard most of the one-sided discussion. It astonished him that she guessed how he was going to react before he knew it himself. "I got some dill cheese and moss loaf from the cold cellar, along with what I could sneak off the breffast table -- rootbuds, snorter meat, and..." Caval closed the bag after only a brief peek inside and slung it over his shoulders. He had noticed what looked like an extra set of clothes and his heavy cloak under the neatly wrapped packages of food. She handed him a stiff cloth envelope with a clasp on the back. "It's not a lot but..." "Anything is better than nothing at all." Caval finished with a reassuring smile. He would not have gotten very far without money. The makeshift wallet contained several coins and leaves. It must be her whole savings, he thought guiltily. Knowing she would be upset if he refused any part of it, he resolved to repay her double as soon as he earned some money himself. "I traded some of my weaving with Jarde, and I made him promise not to tell, but I know he'd tell you, but since you're leaving, I figure it's ok. You are leaving aren't you." The awkward statement didn't seem to be a question but Caval nodded affirmation. "Will you say goodbye for me?" He asked, amused by the thought of her forcing her weaving on Jarde. Not that her weaving was bad, Jarde just could not hide the crush he had developed for her, which she barely tolerated. Jarde would give Caydi anything without compensation, but she refused to take advantage of him. "When he gets back from the vineyards I'll let him know." She answered, her nose wrinkling in distaste at having to willfully seek Jarde out. "There's paper in there too." She lightly tugged on some thin brown sheets. "Maybe you can send a message with some trader." "I really appreciate this, Caydi." "Uh huh, here." She shoved a belt at him. He instantly recognized the dark blue leather of belt, scabbard, and holster. "This was Dad's." "Our real father." Caydi emphasized. She was only four when their father died, but she claimed she could still remember him. She also did not like Bin any more than Caval did. Caval put on the belt. He had to tighten it to the last notch, but it fit. He fastened the strap to the drought pouch carefully around the belt just behind the pistol on his right side, and clipped the wallet safely underneath. He adjusted the scabbard at his left side so that it rested comfortably against his hip. The sword was almost as long as his leg, and heavy, but the pistol and knife on his right side counterbalanced some of the drag. It felt right. He did not have to inspect the blade of the knife or sword. He had kept them sterlingly polished himself for the last few years, ever since he found them. He had cleaned the gun as well, though he had never found bullets for it. He had practiced a little swordfighting with Dake when he had the chance. Dake claimed to be terrible at it, even though his stage acting sometimes called for swordplay, but Caval knew he was being modest. Dake was truly excellent with swords and daggers, and even more skilled with throwing objects. Caval would watch captivated as Dake juggled five or six vicious looking knives and cleavers. At the same time he would be telling Caval some wild story or reciting humorous poetry, while pretending very convincingly that he was not paying any attention at all to what his hands were doing. Maybe Caval would run into Dake, but he had no idea where to look for him. Dake's band traveled constantly and erratically, away from the law sometimes, Caval guessed. "Kyle died in the service of the King." Caval recited flatly, resting his hands soberly on the decorated pommels. That vague statement was all they could get their mother to say about their real father. The pained expression she would get when they reminded her of him stopped them from any attempt to find out more. Seven years after Kyle had died, she met Bin at a market near his family's home. Bin was already informally involved with a local wench who had three children by him. Fortuitously for Bin, the local girl soon disappeared. After a barely courteous waiting period and an even briefer courtship, Bin took Sahri for his wife. Together, she and Bin produced the half menace, Suvi. Caval and Caydi tried to get along with Bin and his family for their mother's sake, but Bin did not hide his dislike of them or his disappointment that Sahri could not bear him more children. "Won't anyone notice these missing?" Caval asked. "Nah, and if they do, no one will yell at me." She answered unconcerned. He knew she was right. Caval was the only one who paid any attention to her most of the time. He was not sure if Bin even knew about the sword belt. There were some secrets that Sahri kept from everyone. "Dad must've looked just like you." Caydi mused. "Maybe you can go see the King." "Maybe I can find out why the rain has stopped falling." Caval joked. He could not imagine himself at court. "Oh Caval, could you? Do you think you could really find out? King Sabian's supposed to know everything, and even if he doesn't know about us since we're so far and all, maybe he could send someone to help us!" All of her words ran together in her excitement. Her expression was hopeful. "Well..." He hesitated. Could he have some influence at court because of his father? Some of the stories said lineage prompted deference. "Please, Caval. Something is wrong." She whispered. "I can feel it at the edge of my mind, but there is a small pinpoint of light in the darkness. A silver throne shining in the center of all that darkness." This darkness? Caval wondered looking questioningly up at the sky, as Caydi's voice took on a familiar sluggish quality and she slipped into a kind of trance. Her brow furrowed but her eyes remained unfocused as if she was looking inward. "On the silver throne is a...a koonrat. Yes, a koonrat on a silver throne, wearing a black crown that's too big for its head but is held on by its floppy ears. The crown has four points, each point with a cut stone shaped like a jeweled eye, one sparkling sapphire, one bloody ruby, one golden amber, and one dazzling emerald." She paused and her head tilted to the side as if she was ticking off the various stones in her head. "The crowned rat takes the amber eye and throws it down. It expands out into an endless golden sandscape, with piles of sand sculpted into the likeness of plants and animals. The rat takes the sapphire eye and throws it up. It expands into an endless blue skyscape, with flowing white clouds that sculpt themselves into even stranger shapes. Then out of the darkness steps a man shrouded in death." Caval had seen her in this state before. He used to think she was playing some kind of game, but he learned she really did have an uncanny intuition. Their mother called it Sending, and said it was a Bad Gift. She discouraged Caydi from ever doing it, only she couldn't always control when she would be taken by the visions. Anyone who had caught one of her states thought she was making it up and that she was just good at guessing things. Most of the time it was harmless, but sometimes, like now, it scared him. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she seemed not to notice as she continued. "The shrouded man touches the throne and the silver molds around the koonrat, turning it into a shining statue. The crown falls around the trapped rat's neck like a black choker. The man takes the ruby eye from the crown and throws it down at the sands. The sands turn blood red, reflecting a glare as bright as the sun and giving off an unbearable heat. Then the man takes the emerald eye and throws it up. The clouds envelope the stone and a green rain starts to fall, lightly at first so that it drips off the faces of the sand creatures like tears of relief, but it continues to pour and the faces begin to melt..." Starting to get really concerned, Caval lightly shook her. She blinked her eyes and slowly refocused on him. "You were talking crazy again." Caval informed her. She shrugged off his concerned statement but met his gaze with a blazing intensity, her odd green eyes almost glowing in the dark. "I'm afraid for you, brother. But you must go and look for the answer. At least promise to try." "I'll definitely do my best." He assured her uneasily, his mind puzzling over her bizarre revelations. She gave him a quick hug and was off back towards home before he could react. Caval could not tell whether she was happy for him or sad to see him go. He guessed it was a mixture of both. He watched her for only a moment before turning and starting off on his own. * * * * * It was mention of the drought that seemed to trigger Caydi's strange visions, so Caval wondered about the dry spell that they were having as he began his journey. It seemed like the weather was getting hotter every year, and there had not been any decent rainfall for as long as he could remember. That was why they grew rootbuds, drycorn, and brown desert peas. The animals they raised were also desert bred, or just highly adaptable. All the shallow wells and waterholes were empty. The barren lands to the southeast were slowly spreading towards them as crops failed and ranchers gave up their fight to save their land. Caval did not need Caydi's Bad Gift to tell him that things were getting worse. It was fairly obvious when overloaded wagons with whole families and all of their remaining possessions passed through town heading north. The traffic increased as there was no relief. "Hey, watch it boy!" A gruff voice warned, just in time for him to jump out of the way of a passing straw cart. He must have been so engrossed in his own thoughts that he did not hear it approaching from behind him. The snortbeast pulling the cart tried to bite him as it passed. Its short wrinkly snout wrinkled even more as it bared its teeth. Caval stumbled backwards and tripped over himself trying to get out of its range. The cart creaked by, stirring up a large plume of dust which settled thickly on Caval's clothes. "Pitspawn!" Caval swore after the beast. It was rare for a snortbeast to be nasty tempered, but they were all ugly. This one's earthen colored hide fit loosely over thick folds of fat and was sparsely covered with coarse hairs that could pierce his skin if he got too close. It had four stubby legs with three toes on each wide foot that ended in hard points like dull claws. Overall, the hairy beast looked like a monstrously overgrown cousin of the snorter, even down to the tail that curled like a corkscrew. Caval picked himself up and began brushing as much of the thick, red dust off as he could. The cart came to a rickety halt just ahead. "Well, do you need a ride, boy?" The same raspy voice asked. Caval could not tell if the driver was a gray-haired old man or woman. The face of the figure turned towards him was more wrinkled than the snortbeast. It was wearing tinted eyeglasses and robes of some rough brown material that looked like patched together root sacks. With hesitant thanks, he jumped in the back with the straw. He knew King Sabian's court was in the capital city of Vygll in the province of Vyrnai. He believed that was northwest, so since the cart seemed to be going that way, why not. He didn't really think that he would be allowed to see the King, but since he had no other plans, he was going to at least humor his sister. In such a busy city he would discover more options for his future than he would staying around here. They passed through the town center. Caval noted the stone fountain in front of the tavern. It had been constructed long ago and he had never seen it working. The intricately carved gothi seemed forever frozen in perilous pre-leaps over the empty basin. After they passed the tavern, the road twisted through endless weedy looking fields. Everything looked dry and abandoned. The driver did not seem inclined to conversation and soon the dull countryside and almost rhythmic swaying of the cart lulled him. He was wondering how far north the cart was going as he nodded off. Caval was startled by a jolt and was not quite sure if he had fallen asleep. He squinted sleepily as he looked around, temporarily disoriented. The sun was almost directly overhead, so he had slept, and nearly all morning. The driver was swearing and whipping the snortbeast who squealed and struggled in its harness. It looked like the cart was stuck. Caval jumped down and saw that a wheel was jammed in a hole that someone had tried to fill with rocks. "Hold on," Caval yelled to the driver as he pried out a large rock and then positioned himself behind the cart to push. "Now!" The snortbeast strained forward as Caval pushed from behind, and the cart lurched forward out of the hole. "I knew you'd be useful." The old creature grunted from up front. Caval was uncertain if that was a compliment. "Get in." Caval hopped up. "Where are we?" The road had become narrower and thick patches of sickly trees surrounded them. "Are we almost to the market?" The farthest Caval had been away from Brimmon was the market to the north. It was the same market where his mother met Bin. Caval gathered from Dake's tales that it was actually no more than a tiny hick trading post compared to other real markets closer to the cities. The elderly thing cackled. "I know a short cut. We're well past the market that you're talking about." Caval did not doubt it, estimating how much time had passed while he dozed. He had never slept so late in his life. He was suddenly reminded of a fable he had heard about a race between a patient snortbeast driver and an overconfident equi rider. The snortbeast, while not as fast as the fleet footed equi, could cover quite a distance with it's incessant plod. "Well then, where are you taking this straw?" He inquired mildly, not wanting to sound too foolish. The position of the sun prevented him from telling what direction they were going in. He had hitched a ride assuming that the cart was going to the market and that he could continue on to Vyrnai from there, but by now he could be leagues out of the way. The wrinkled figure made a clucking noise and the snortbeast stopped. It regarded him seriously for a moment, tapping the butt of the whip thoughtfully against its jaw. "It's a secret. You can go with me if you want, I could use a hand." The thing cackled again and Caval began to wonder if it was mad. But having no idea where the nearest town was, and figuring it would be rude to turn the driver down after taking him all this way, he decided to stay with the cart. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to help." Caval answered, but he was beginning to feel a bit edgy. He jumped when the whip snapped and the snortbeast struggled forward again. The driver began to croak out a familiar tune in its cracking voice. The melody was to a well-known tavern song, but the words were different than he remembered. "understanding is lost from days gone past life flees like a shadow, does not last few of days and full of trouble one sings voice wasting away like all rotting things" Caval had been humming along in harmony to the song, ignoring the creepy lyrics, until he began to feel a slight pressure building around him, like the air had gotten heavier. He heard and unusual quiet rushing sound, like when you block your hands over your ears. The driver must have noticed something strange as well, because it had stopped croaking its song and was staring at him with serious interest. The tinted glassed reflected the sunlight directly at Caval. The feeling and sound dissipated and he shrugged. The old creature added another couplet, seeming to quote rather than sing, and continuing to stare intently at Caval. "doth wisdom lie with the aged mortal whose eyes fix on a youthful portal" Caval did not understand the meaning of the song, but having those lines directed at him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He rubbed his arms briskly. The driver turned back to steering the snortbeast. The beast plodded on steadily, ignorant to everything. Caval was trying to figure out how to unobtrusively find out more about where they were going when the cart veered off the road onto a well-hidden and half-overgrown path through the trees. "Do you live near here?" Caval prompted nervously as the cart continued to plow through dead foliage and he had to duck low branches. "No, I'm actually from far to the west, near the Vorgg Mountains." The driver let out another of those unnerving cackles. "Are we delivering the straw somewhere near here?" Instead of answering it pulled the snortbeast to a stop. Caval looked around and could no longer determine where the path was. He could only faintly discern the cart's trail behind them. The interlocking branches overhead made it almost dark, even though he knew it was just after midday. The driver climbed down and approached an immense skeletal tree. Caval guessed that it would take twenty men linking hands to encircle its trunk. He suddenly imagined those same men touching the bark and freezing there forever. Their pale forms eventually becoming part of the trunk itself. Being absorbed, letting the dead tree grow as if alive. Caval had to shake himself out of those thoughts. Goose flesh was breaking out on his arms. Maybe he did have too much imagination like Bin always said. The driver was muttering unintelligibly to itself as it felt around on the surface of the tree trunk. "Aah." It exhaled victoriously and stepped back. The tree appeared to shudder all along its roots. The violent vibrations slowly spread up the trunk to the twisted branches. Finally the large trunk split open down the center, revealing a steep ramp, dimly lit from below. Caval jumped down from the cart, swearing an oath of amazement. The driver climbed back up and began directing the snortbeast to the gap in the now wide open tree trunk. It stopped the cart just before reaching the ramp. "Are you coming, boy?" Caval looked around uncertainly. He did not think he could find his way back out to the road without the old thing's help, which it might not give if he balked now. As bizarre as the situation seemed, the driver had not yet given him any reason to be afraid. He climbed into the cart again. As they began moving down the ramp, he heard the howl of a dyrebeast from somewhere in the woods nearby. The sound sent a creepy chill down his spine, but as they descended further, he did not feel relieved. The gap in the tree closed shakily behind them, apparently sealing him in the earth. There was not enough light for him to see the mechanism that opened the tree, if there was one. The ramp appeared to have been roughly tunneled through packed dirt. Slender roots that looked as ghostly white as finger bones surrounded them. Squeaking and slithering sounds came from above, as if things were living in the complex roots. The cart descended for some time and Caval became further disoriented as to distance and direction. The ramp finally leveled off and opened up to a large wooden entrance hall. The lighting in the hall was not much brighter than that of the ramp and there were deep shadows everywhere. Out of one of these shadows limped another elderly figure. Frazzled gray hair floated about its head in an uncontrolled halo. It was wearing the same brown patchwork robes as the driver. "Sister!" The driver called with unexaggerated enthusiasm. "Sister." The figure repeated with a slurring gravely voice. She looked up at Caval. Her face was even more wrinkled than the old woman that had been driving him. At least now he knew the driver was a she. "Who?" It queried in that same slow tone. "I'm Caval Kyle-Sahri." He answered automatically, using his real father's name, not Bin's. He realized that he had not introduced himself to the driver either. The driver grunted as she dismounted the cart and removed her dark glasses. "I am exhausted, Zosi. But after resting a spell, I think I'll feel a whole lot better." "Zymi rest a spell!" Zosi slurred and her slumped figure bent over more as she let out a slow cackle similar to Zymi's. Zymi looked meaningfully at Caval, but not understanding the joke, he just felt annoyed. He climbed down from the cart, noticing that at five and a half feet, he was over a foot taller than both hags were. "A real knee-slapper, Zymi. Look, I don't want to be rude, but..." "Yes, yes, your journey to the Eye of Truth, I know." She nodded. She gestured and a small scuttling creature came out of the shadows and took the reigns to the snortbeast. It moved faster than Caval's eyes could follow. It almost looked like a small misshapen child, but Caval could not make it out. It seemed to be intentionally staying in the shadows. Caval shivered involuntarily. "What do you...?" "Vygll is a powerful word in the old language." Zymi interrupted. When Caval did not appear enlightened she added in a confidential tone. "You better stop talking in your sleep if you want to keep secrets." They started towards a shadowy wall to the right and Caval could make out another rough passageway. As he followed them down the passage, he could hear the snortbeast and cart being led away. He guessed that she did not need him to help her with the straw after all. The passage got darker as it continued and Caval could smell an unfamiliar spicy aroma coming from ahead. Zymi began to speak again, as if reciting a lesson. "Many places and things are marked with symbols left over from a long, long time ago. No one knows for sure who made them, but these designs have meanings that go far beyond the simple words that were used to describe them. These words have also since been warped by written and spoken error." Caval thought of the engravings on the fountain he had regarded only earlier that day, and then with surprise glanced down at his own vest. He could not see the farm symbols embroidered there in the almost nonexistent light. "So the names of things would have some other meaning if read differently?" Caval asked, following them along a turn in the passage. "Ooh, he's quick." Zosi praised. "Not everything has a special name, but yes, some would have real meaning if translated correctly." Zymi continued. "And that truth equals power." Zosi added. "Yes, yes, many lost secrets can be learned." Zymi trailed off absently. He nearly fell over the shambling figure of Zosi as they came to a sudden stop. "Damn it, you little..." Caval heard Zymi's voice and a sharp rattling sound, followed by a small squeak and a burst of light. Caval noticed Zosi flinch and shield her eyes from the meager flare. They were on the threshold of a cluttered room and Zymi was now holding up an iron lamp. The glass of the lamp was painted black, but the glow from within still gave off a descent amount of light. "These things don't work so well sometimes." Zymi remarked with an odd grin. She gave the lamp another rough shake, producing another squeak from within. The feeble light increased slightly. "Don't do that." Zosi moaned. She was wringing her hands and shifting from foot to foot. Zymi moved farther into the room and placed the lamp on a shelf already laden with assorted jars. Zosi stumbled into the room, followed by Caval. "You've cut it so close this time, Zymi. I'm so weak." Zosi limped to a large wooden table in the center of the room. It was covered with books, papers, and bottles. Zosi swept some papers off the table onto the floor, uncovering a large bowl, which Caval noted, was engraved with strange symbols. She began emptying the contents of several of the bottles into the bowl, intensifying the spicy smell Caval had noticed from the passageway. The smell was beginning to nauseate him, and he knew it wouldn't be an improvement on his own pungency. "Uh, you said you needed my help for something." Caval offered, trying to hold his breath. "Yes." Zymi agreed. "Come see." She gestured toward the bowl. Caval edged forward in spite the awful smell. Before he could even blink at the contents of the bowl, Zymi grabbed him from behind and held him with incredible strength. Zosi took his arm and stretched it over the bowl. In her other hand she held a short curved knife with a polished black handle. Caval attempted to struggle, but Zymi managed to hold him nearly motionless. "Oh come now, Caval," Zymi joked as Zosi's knife cut into the back of Caval's left wrist. "I said I needed a hand." A thin stream of blood welled from the cut and dripped into the bowl. A dark smoke began to rise out of the smelly mixture. "Don't worry, Caval. We won't kill you." Zosi soothed as he again tried to jerk his hand away. "Yet." Zymi added with dark humor. "We'll just cut off a piece here and a piece there. You'll hardly miss them, really." "You're crazy!" Caval cried horrified. He continued to struggle but Zymi just laughed at his restricted motions. She was unbelievably strong for her apparent age. "Yes, his young blood is very powerful. This potion will rejuvinate us!" Zosi declared happily, lifting the smoking bowl to her lips. Caval lifted his legs and kicked out at the table, knocking it and Zosi against the shelves behind her, while throwing him and Zymi backwards. Zymi finally lost her grip on Caval and he jumped up, drawing his father's sword. No one was going to drink his blood or chop him up for spare parts without a serious fight. The phrase "over my dead body" popped into mind and he grimly pushed it away. He sincerely hoped it would not come to that. As soon as the blade of the sword was freed from the scabbard he noticed it was outlined by a fierce blue light that he had never seen before. The shelves behind Zosi collapsed as she cowered away from Caval. Various flasks and vials smashed on the floor, releasing more putrid smells and evil looking smoke. The lamp clattered noisily as it rolled near his feet. "He ruined the spell!" Zosi whined, desperately placing her hands over the spot where the potion had spilled and immediately evaporated. Then, noticing Caval again, she screeched, "A Royal Sword, he'll kill us!" Caval held the sword forward in both hands. He had often wondered at the straight, always perfectly honed blade, but he was just as amazed as Zosi was by the brilliant glow. The sword wavered slightly in his trembling hands, cutting short arcs and jittery circles of blue light out of thin air. "He can't kill us." Zymi stated confidently, regaining her feet and blocking the exit out of the room. "He doesn't even know how to use that sword. Do you, boy?" She raised one arm. Pointing defiantly at Caval, she began to chant. Caval could not make any sense out of the guttural syllables that she was repeating with a steady rhythm but he began to feel a gathering of some kind of force around him, similar to the sensation he had felt before in the cart. His limbs started to feel strangely heavier and he knew he had to act. He swung the sword down in an awkward arc. The sword almost seemed to direct his arms and aid him in striking home as he cleanly lopped off the old crone's arm. Zosi let out a wail of terror. Caval stepped back, expecting a gush of blood and a howl of pain from Zymi. Instead, she calmly bent down and picked up her arm. Small sparks were shooting weakly of the chopped arm's fingertips. "Damn." She remarked. Where Caval had severed her limb, pieces of straw stuck out like stuffing. She was a living spookwynet! "I'm really starting to get angry, Caval. That's two spells now. You don't just interrupt someone like that. You never know what may happen." Caval's heart was pounding hard. He had always said he believed in magic and strange creatures, but to see magic working and to have to face those strange creatures, was something else entirely. He risked a glance a Zosi, but she was still cringing behind the overturned table. Zymi screamed suddenly and threw her arm at Caval. Startled, he swung the sword and cut the arm in two. Zymi ducked around the arc of the sword to Caval's right. She grabbed his knife from his belt and catching him off balance, drove him against the wall. He swung the sword back around but she managed a vicious stab in his right shoulder before the sword caught her neatly between her shoulder and jaw. Her head went rolling against the opposite wall with a muffled rustling thump. Caval could see the same straw material sticking out of her neck. Even though her head was hacked off, her body was still functioning. It pulled the knife out of Caval's shoulder and thrust it at his heart. Caval only managed to partially block with his left shoulder and the knife glanced off his ribs, slashing across his chest. Caval could hear Zymi's head chuckle wickedly from across the room and in his peripheral vision he noticed Zosi creeping towards his feet. Forcefully pushing Zymi's body away from him, he saw the lamp on the floor nearby. With sudden inspiration he dove towards it, slamming the hilt of his sword on the painted glass. Light so intense blazed out that he was blinded instantly. As he belatedly covered his eyes, he could hear Zosi and Zymi screeching horribly. A dry crackling sound was underlying their loud vocals. Something crashed against Caval and he could feel and intense wave of heat. He stumbled away in pain and fear, still unable to see anything. Something sharp pierced his right arm just above the elbow. He struck out, but then scrambled back as his hands and arms were scorched. "To your right, quickly." A high pitched voice called between choruses of the hags screams. Caval turned and blindly stumbled along as the same voice continued to guide him out of the room. "Fall down." The voice ordered. Caval stood there stupidly, blinking without seeing. "Fall down dimwit, you need to roll out the flames!" The voice insisted. Caval did as he was told, being careful with his sword. He noticed a smothering coolness. He sat back for a moment, unable to believe that he had actually been on fire. Things had been happening too fast for anything to really register in his stunned mind. He gingerly felt his right arm, gritting his teeth and letting out a primitive growl of pain as he pulled his own knife out. He placed it in his sheath, but kept his sword out. He made an attempt to stand up again, but the voice scolded him. "The smoke is poisonous. Stay down but keep moving. I'll get us out of here." The voice guided him through several turns and Caval knew he was not leaving the way he came in. Since he was blind and disoriented, he had no real choice but to trust the strange voice. He knew that the wooden floors would soon be firewood, but he moved slowly and awkwardly at first, getting splinters on his hands and knees as he pushed his sword ahead in his left hand. The terrible pain in his arm, shoulder, and chest crippled him. He could feel the skin of his wounds parting with every movement like bleeding mouths. He managed to pick up his pace as the flames' increasing volume inspired him to new feats of speed crawling that he never could have imagined before this. Though he was moving as fast as he could, it seemed like an eternity of crawling through an underground maze. The smoke was choking him even though he kept low and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. He was about to demand a rest when the tip of his sword struck something with a faint clink. Caval felt forward and could make out steps. "This is a way out. Climb up and I'll help the others." Caval just did as he was told without wondering who the others might be. He reached cool air and stumbled as far as he could across what felt like grass before collapsing, his sword still clutched weakly in his left hand. He was still unable to see anything other than vague blobs of light and shadow floating in front of his eyes, but he tried to listen. He could hear faint crashing sounds and was dimly aware of things rushing past him. He could not tell what they were or how many before he passed out. * * * * * Caval became slowly aware that he was lying on his back and that he was very uncomfortable. He tried to open his eyes and when he could not, he panicked. He tried to reach up, but his hands seemed mummified. He also seemed to be wearing some kind of blindfold. He felt pain in various places all over his body. There was a lump under him that he dimly realized was his pack. It was pressing into his lower back, which was still sore from Bin's lashing. He tried to sit up and immediately realized what a mistake that was. His head suddenly jumped out of its dazed fuzziness with sickening pounding fury. Caval felt like he was going to vomit. He leaned over, but when his stomach spasmed, he only let out dry, hacking coughs. He fell back, not even noticing the awkward pack anymore. He felt worse than ever before in his life. The wyrnpox could not even compare to this. He felt exhausted and feverish. The inside of his throat and nose felt dry and burnt. His lungs ached when he breathed. His body was starting to isolate the main pain areas with nauseating throbs. His right arm, shoulder, and chest all complained with fiery pulses, insisting that he stay awake, do something, help them. He unconsciously refused to oblige by passing out again. Something moving by his ear sometime later brought him alert again. He weakly tried to brush it away and heard a squeaky protest. "That's some way to thank me for saving your hide, you nearly crushed me!" Vaguely remembering his last experience, Caval did not try to sit up again. "Who...who are you?" He managed to croak out. "I'm Lyth." The voice piped. "I guided you out of the witches' lair." "You guided me?" He felt dumb. He remembered dreaming his sword was talking to him. "Yep." The voice confirmed proudly. "But you saved me first, so I owed you." "I saved you?" Caval was distracted. He guessed the idea of a talking sword was pretty silly. It was a lot easier on his sanity to imagine that a real person helped him. His mind was already trying to substitute rational logic for the unexplainable. As much as he wanted to believe in magic, it was not easy to get over a lifetime of skeptical conditioning after one experience. His hands felt itchy and he went to rub them. Lyth's voice stopped him. "Don't. I had a hard time bandaging them in the first place. You're a little crisp around the edges and your wounds aren't too serious, but they could be if they get infected before they can heal." "Lyth, what happened?" Caval asked, doubting the validity of his own memory. "I knew you'd ask me that. Well, I'm not sure how you got there, I couldn't see anything until you released me. I guess that's where it gets confusing for you. I led you out and then went back in for the others that had been captured. Those that were alive and in relatively one piece that is. From what I could overhear, the witches were using some kind of golem bodies that they maintained with a rejuvenating potion. The active ingredient of the potion was fresh blood." Lyth paused on that morbid revelation then added uncertainly "I think they were killed in the fire along with whoever else couldn't make it out in time. They had servants, and there were other vile things living down there too." "Where are they now, the ones you let out?" Caval wondered, skipping over the subjects of witches, golems, and youth potions. Everything that happened since he left home seemed too bizarre and unreal. Maybe this was all some kind of fever dream and he was really laying in his bed deliriously talking to himself. "Probably headed towards their various homes. I wanted to stick around to be sure you'd be all right. Like I said, I felt I owed you." "Yes, you said I released you, how?" "From the lamp. You mean you didn't know that I was in there?" Now it was Lyth's turn to sound confused. "I didn't know anyone was in the lamp. I just noticed that the sisters seemed sensitive to light and I was acting on a hunch. How could you fit?" "I guess you didn't recognize the Fierie flash. It's pretty distinctive." "You mean that glow on my sword?" Caval asked, thinking of the blue outline he had witnessed during his battle. "I'm talking about when you broke open the lamp. I called on fire to burn the witches, and you caught the edge of my flash." Lyth explained. "You blinded me." Caval accused, reaching his bound hands up to the blindfold. "I'm sure you should be able to see again soon." Lyth tried to affect a reassuring tone of voice. He did not want Caval to worry needlessly about whether his vision would return or not. There was nothing that could be done about it now, and better blind than dead. In the distance, dark smoke continued to leak from the burnt tree lair. The smoke seemed to have a life of its own as it curled lazily about the dead vegetation. "The tree is still smoldering but luckily the fire didn't spread. With all this dry timber around, we'd be in real trouble." Caval's mind was in a jumble. Fieries and magical fire? His barrier of contrived skepticism was barely holding against the onslaught. "What is a Fierie anyway? Is that like a Faerie?" "I'm a Fierie." Lyth answered blandly. "And yes, I am a kind of Faerie." "So you're a little guy, with wings and antennae like a butterfly. You spend your all of your time frolicking in meadows and sleeping in flowers." Caval's description was almost right. Lyth was no bigger than the span of Caval's hand and his figure was even more shrunken by deprivation. The cruel hags had also clipped his insect-like wings, leaving only useless stubs. Short black antennae that should extend delicately upward from his brow curled rakishly down toward his red eyes instead. His hairless skin was normally a smooth ebony color but now looked a sooty black. He was dressed only in a small yellow leaf that he had found and folded around his waist. "Compared to your oafish figure I guess I am little. But my wings have been seriously damaged and I doubt I'll be doing any frolicking any time soon." Caval detected wounded pride in Lyth's words and regretted his own insensitivity. That was no way to thank him. "I'm sorry Lyth, and thank you for saving my life. I mean it." "No need to thank me. You saved a lot of lives down there, including mine." Lyth pointed out again. "You're a hero." "I'm not a hero. I'm just a dumb farmer. I must have been crazy to leave home." Some journey this was turning out to be. So far he had spent most of it unconscious, and he was already crippled on his first day out. At least he was not going to be blind permanently, he hoped, but how far could he make it like this? Helpless frustration built up in him and his chest felt heavy. He was actually glad for the blindfold, as his eyes now burned with the beginning of defeated tears. "Well, obviously you were looking for some kind of adventure and I'd say you found it." Lyth encouraged. "You are a hero, and you can't give up now." "I never said I was giving up." To prove it, Caval finally sat forward. His head throbbed a little in response, but it was nothing like earlier. His stomach growled loudly and he felt it tighten painfully. Thanks to Bin, it had been a long time since he had eaten a decent meal. "I think should eat something." He carefully loosened the bandages from his left hand, freeing up his fingers. Lyth did not protest this time. Caval cautiously rubbed his fingers together. They tingled but did not feel burnt. He was surprised by his accelerated recovery. "I tore some cloth from your clothes for bandages and I stole a salve from the witches. I added a few herbs and made some descent healing poultices." Lyth explained. "I see it's worked pretty well so far." "I guess my wounds will take a little longer." Caval slowly unshouldered his pack and opened it. His chest stung as he unintentionally flexed his muscles. He reached inside and pulled out the first wrapped bundle. It felt slightly squishy. He undid just the top and sniffed. Unfastening his drought pouch, he carefully added a few drops of water. He stirred the rootbuds with his finger, then gobbled them down greedily. They were cold, but he was so hungry that they tasted wonderful. When Caval was almost finished he remembered Lyth. "I'm sorry, would you like some?" Caval offered. "No." Caval shrugged and was rewarded with a sharp pain in his shoulder. He finished off the rest of the rootbuds and half of the pack of snorter strips before he could restrain himself. He knew he should ration what little food he had until he was certain he could get more. "We can't stay here forever. There are bound to be slimy friends of the hags showing up for a visit. I don't think that we should be around when they start prowling for revenge." Lyth warned. "What do you suggest? I can't go stumbling around the forest with this blindfold on. I'd probably break my neck tripping over a stick." Caval argued. "I could be your guide." Lyth answered. "Just like when I helped you before." "Are you familiar with this area? I don't even know where we are." "I meant that I could act as your eyes and tell you what I see." Lyth offered. Caval sighed his acceptance. He knew he had no other choice. He could not wait around for his sight to return and he would not be able to make it anywhere without somebody leading him. "It's almost high moon, I think we should get moving." Lyth's voice sounded nervous. Suddenly remembering, Caval carefully felt around himself in the grass. At about arm length, he felt cold metal. Caval worked his way up to the hilt, and sheathed his sword. It was still awkward using his left hand, and he could feel the bite of the cut on his wrist, but he imagined that his wounds would be healed soon enough. The salve seemed to work as well as Lyth claimed, but still he reshouldered his pack with overdramatic care. "The best thing to do would be to get to a road. From there we should be able to work our way to the nearest town. Then we should be able to find out where we are, maybe even buy a map." Caval suggested, checking under his belt for the cloth envelope that his sister had given him. It was still safely clasped underneath. Lyth did not bother to point out that he could not read human scratchings. He might be able to figure out a map if it were drawn well enough. Caval stood slowly and drew a deep breath. His muscles were sore and his lungs still felt raw, but the cool air was refreshing. He believed he was ready. He turned toward the direction he thought he heard Lyth's voice coming from. "Ok, which way?" Lyth did not waste any time. He had already decided which direction would probably be the best, even though just like Caval, he had no idea where they were. If he did not think that he could guide them safely, he would not have offered. "Turn around." He ordered. Caval turned. "Now you're facing north. Turn to the left." Caval complied and Lyth described the area that lay ahead. He tried to be as thorough as possible. Caval willed himself to have faith in Lyth's instructions, but he instinctively held his arms out in front of him as he blindly started forward. His right arm was still not up for the exercise, so he allowed it to fall to his side. He flailed just his left in front of him as he picked his way forward. He told Lyth how he had ended up in the witches' company and about his reasons for leaving home as he blundered through the underbrush. Lyth found him to be despairingly naïve. After about an hour of stumbling through thorny plants, tripping over roots, and banging his head on low branches, Caval irritably called a halt. "We haven't made it very far." Lyth complained. "So where are we? It seems like we should have reached the road by now." Caval complained right back. "I thought so too." Lyth agreed. He looked around, but of course he could recognize nothing. He closed his eyes and concentrated. "What are you doing?" Caval interrupted. "Be quiet for a moment." Lyth ordered. Caval warily did as he was told, straining with his ears to hear what was happening. "Fidere seon." Lyth invoked. He took another moment, then opened his eyes. The nighttime world of shady blacks and dark grays had become a panorama of brilliant hues emitted by insects and small animals. He could now see the life forces surrounding them. Lyth blinked with surprise when he saw Caval and his concentration was broken. Caval had been surrounded by a pulsating blue aura. Maybe that was the blue glow Caval had mentioned before, confusing it with Lyth's Fierie flash. He brought his wondering mind back to the situation at hand. Concentrating again, he mentally tried to wade through the multiple colorful glows, to look for something that should not be there. There it was, a strange pattern shimmering in the air, creating a complicated haze all around them. It must have been the remnant of a spell cast by the witches. It could have been laid to hinder escapes or to lead in new victims to their tree lair. "What are you doing?" Caval repeated in a loud whisper. "We've been mislead." Lyth answered this time. "Some kind of confusion spell to keep us walking in circles without knowing it. My best guess is that the witches probably enchanted some objects around here, probably an arrangement of sticks or something inconspicuous. If we find whatever it is, we could break the spell." Magic again. Caval sat down with a frustrated huff of breath. "You know, my brother Dake could perform some pretty fantastic tricks. He always told me that it was nothing compared to real magic. I always wanted to believe in it all, but I guess I didn't really. Now it seems like I'm finding the real magic everywhere I turn and it's a total nuisance!" "Magic isn't bad, Caval." Lyth said sincerely. Caval absorbed that without comment. Lyth considered telling Caval of the magic potential indicated by his aura, but decided against it. He did not think that Caval was in the mood to appreciate that kind of information. Instead, he tried for generalities. "Practicing magic is just a matter of tapping and controlling energy." Grasping for an analogy, Lyth continued. "Like when you water your crops, you are physically rechanneling the flow of water for your own use." Caval was distracted rather than aided by the mention of water. "Because of the drought, we have to grow plants that need very little water." "That's unusual." Lyth was also distracted by Caval's revelation. "There's been a long dry spell in the North too, but usually when there's less rain for us, there's an excess in the South." "Our drought is very serious. We're losing a lot of good land to the desert." Caval confirmed. "Well, I'm sure the dragons are pleased with that." Lyth offered. At least someone was benefiting. "The what?" "The dra..." Lyth stopped himself. "Don't tell me you've never heard of dragons either. They're huge lizards. You can't miss 'em." "Of course I've heard of dragons." Caval answered petulantly. "My brother told me stories. But where I'm from, dragons...and faeries, are considered myths." "You have led a sheltered life. If you live far enough south to border the desert, then you couldn't be more than a few leagues from their most popular brooding grounds." "We never go that far into the desert. The sand snakes are deadly." "Well, I suppose. There has been a decrease in dragon traffic lately too." Lyth admitted. "In the stories I heard, if they are to be believed, dragons are attacking everywhere." "Dragons don't attack people. Now that's a myth." Lyth claimed smugly. Caval sighed. He felt truly inferior in worldly knowledge. Maybe he should just keep his mouth shut. Noticing that Caval was keeping quiet, Lyth suggested "Why don't you stay here and rest while I search for the source of the confusion spell?" Caval complied without argument, even though he did not want to be left alone. He leaned back and tried to recall everything Dake told him about dragons. Dake had never seen a dragon himself, but the stories he heard had convinced him that dragons were real monsters. They were reported to be menacing various unsuspecting townships. Survivors of long distance dragon encounters described them as huge fire breathing beasts with poisonous breath. Dragon strength and speed were legendary, but they also had heightened senses and a cunning animal intelligence. Their claws and fangs were deadly. If one hooked its talons into you it was all over. Thinking about such a terrible creature in his helpless condition was not comforting. He attempted to turn his mind to less scary topics while he waited for Lyth to return. Not all of Dake's stories were so horrific. Some were full of action and excitement, like the ones he told glamorizing the adventures of King Sabian and his silver clad Warriorguard. Other tales were wrapped in mystery, like the disappearance of the iron giants that used to protect the north from raids by flesh eating trolls, or the regular loss of boats around Remakk, the volcanic island home of the precious Cilkorns. Caval had always hoped to some day find a trade that would allow him to travel like his brother, and now that he was out on his own he meant to make the best of it. The idea of returning home never crossed his mind. * * * * * Lyth picked his way through the dry grass. He worked mostly with his second sight since it was dark and the grass went over his head in some places. His task would be much easier if he could fly. He flapped the stubs of his wings experimentally. They seemed a little longer than when they were first cut. He prayed he was not just imagining it. Since Caval was blinded, he was moving slow enough for Lyth to keep up on his own. It would be pretty humiliating if Caval had to carry him. It was not only his wings that were in poor condition. He did not know how long the hags had kept him in that lamp. He had lost track of time. His power was nearly down to nothing. He needed to replenish himself with the nectar from an Oemyri, but it did not appear to be the right climate for the nocturnal blossoms, not that the hags would have been inclined to feed him even if they possessed the magical plant. He surprised himself with his last flash, and he had to put every last bit of his will into suppressing the resulting fire so it did not torch the entire forest. Perhaps I should have let it all burn, his mind let slip in his fatigue and helpless anger. He needed to get as far away from the memory of his imprisonment as possible. Lyth saw a spelled stone ahead. In his sight it was glowing like a hot coal. He approached it and laid his hands on its surface. Now he wished that he had brought Caval with him. The stone was twice his size. It would have fit in the palm of Caval's hand, but for him it was a boulder. He tried lifting it, but it would not budge. He began digging industrially about its base. "I'm about as effective as a bug." He thought wearily as he put his back to the rock. As he prepared to push with his legs to unseat the stone, he noticed a large dark shadow almost directly in front of him. It had not been there before. He recognized the crouched lupine shape immediately. It was a dyrebeast. No creature of the forest was a danger to him before, but in his weakened condition even a scavenging sqwa could be a deadly threat. He ran around behind the rock just as the dyrebeast pounced. A cloud of loosened dirt clogged the air as the creature landed. Having successfully dodged the massive clawed paws, Lyth now had to avoid being crushed by the rock, which the monster's weight had caused to skid out of its special position. The useless stubs of his wings fluttered futilely as he jumped out of the way and then ran in a terrified panic. Remembering how Caval was blind and helpless, he knew he had to lead the dyrebeast away from him. He deliberately changed direction, fortunately just in time to dodge another of the beast's hungry leaps. Knowing the huge creature could easily outrun him, Lyth bolted around the nearest tree. He began climbing frantically, quickly pulling himself up the rough bark. The dyrebeast rounded the tree even faster than Lyth expected. Before it could attack Lyth flung one of his tiny hands towards the wolven face and desperately tried to call up fire. All he could manage were a few fizzling sparks, but it was enough to distract the monster. The dyrebeast shook its head and pawed at its sizzled snout, giving Lyth time to scramble out of its reach. Noticing that its prey had climbed further up the tree, the creature snarled viciously and lunged. Having momentarily relaxed in the crook of a branch, Lyth was almost knocked from his perch. He flailed for a heart-stopping moment before regaining his purchase. He dared not relax again. The animal regarded him with bloodshot eyes as it stalked around the base of the tree. Lyth could see its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air at his scent. It was a fearsome looking creature. As huge as this one was to Lyth, it appeared to be small for its size. Lyth guessed that the beast had been trapped in the witches' spell. Unable to leave the area to hunt, the effects of hunger were readily apparent. Its thick dark fur was bristled in agitation as it paced, and Lyth could see through to its large skeletal frame. Its ribs protruded sickeningly as its chest heaved with volumous pants. Its lips were drawn back in a feral sneer revealing long yellowy fangs and pale gums. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth, salivating heavily in anticipation of a much-needed meal. After a few unsuccessful leaps at Lyth, it let out a frustrated snort and loped off. Surprised that the starving beast would give up so easily, Lyth tightened his grip on the branch. He could faintly hear the animal snuffling around in the distance. Apparently, it had caught another scent. He fervently hoped that it was not Caval. * * * * * As much as he tried to think of something else, anything else, Caval's mind was inevitably drawn back to Dake's tales of horrendous monsters. He was relieved when he finally heard Lyth returning. The quiet rustling in the grass stopped as he got to his feet. "Lyth?" He called softly. There was no answer. He reached up and lifted the bandages from his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again several times, trying to blink his vision back. It did not work. All he could see were blobby indistinct shapes floating in an unnatural darkness. He might as well leave the blindfold on. He called out again. "Lyth, is that you?" There was still no response. He turned around as he thought he detected another faint noise behind him. Something was circling him. The smell of burnt hair put him on his guard and he immediately drew his sword. In response the dyrebeast lunged. Caval braced himself as the sword suddenly jerked violently in his hands. A heavy weight carried him to the ground, landing on top of him and knocking the wind out of him. He heard a horrible howling whine and felt dull claws raking frantically at his chest and arms. He used all of his strength to push the furry beast off of him, losing his grip on his sword. He jumped up and drew his knife, backing away from the sounds of growling and struggling. "Caval!" Lyth cried in relief as he ran up to the scene. "You killed it!" "What?" Caval answered dumbly, the knife wavering in front of him in his left hand. He was waiting for another attack. "The dyrebeast. That's your sword sticking through its belly." Lyth pointed at the fallen shape. It was no longer moving. A dyrebeast! Caval's knees felt weak. It was too easy to imagine the fierce jaws closing on his throat. They had had a dyrebeast problem every once in a while at home where the beasts would occasionally attack the herds. The men would have to hunt the offenders and destroy them, otherwise they would continue to terrorize the area. He had gone on a hunt once. He remembered Frege bragging about how he would obtain himself a plush carpet. There had been a lot of boasting and a lot of drinking, but his party did not find anything. Caval had been secretly glad at the time. He did not think he was capable of killing anything. At least now he was spared seeing the blood and gore, though his imagination was working overtime. "Where were you?" Caval blamed shakily. "I'm sorry, Caval. I tried to lead it away but you must have been upwind. It must have followed your scent." "Sure." Caval responded, still upset. "That was magnificent. I guess you got your vision back just in time." Lyth marveled. "The beast leapt at you and Ha! You skewered it!" Lyth mimicked the whole event, swinging a blade of grass like an imaginary sword. Caval could hear Lyth dancing around, but still could not see a thing. "I haven't got my sight back yet. Is it really dead?" "I think so." Lyth answered hesitantly. Now he was even more awed. "For a blind guy, you've got some aim." "Or lots of luck." Caval suggested. He knelt down and crawled forward until he could feel the beast's fur. The body was still warm but it did not respond to his touch. He put his knife away and pulled his sword from the limp body. The metal made a disgusting squelching noise as it was drawn from the thin meat. Caval could not see the fatal wound he inflicted on the beast, but the tacky feel of blood on his hands turned his stomach. He rubbed the blade vigorously on the grass, then slid it in its scabbard. Then he wiped his hands off on the grass as best as he could. Lyth watched Caval's actions from the corner of his eye as he looked over the mangy body of the dyrebeast in fascination. He was amazed that Caval was able to defend himself at all in his condition. "Looks like you've got another story to add to your collection." The glassy eyes of the dyrebeast regarded him coldly as he leaned carelessly against its muzzle. Its mouth was now permanently frozen in that same feral snarl Lyth remembered vividly. "What?" Caval asked as he regained his feet. "The great tale of how you took on a raging dyrebeast blindfolded." Caval's face tightened in a humorless grimace. He was not amused. He never would have dreamed of facing one of those animals alone under any circumstances. He had witnessed firsthand what they could do to longhorns. "Did you break the spell?" Caval asked, anxious to get moving again. "Yes. He actually helped." Lyth patted the stiffening muzzle. Caval's quizzical expression must have been lost under his blindfold because Lyth started right in with directions. "Turn left. Now march." Caval knew he was leaving behind a valuable fur, but without being able to see what he was doing, he did not think he could skin the dyrebeast without destroying its pelt. He did not want to have to carry that smelly thing around until he could cure it properly anyway. "How did you know about the confusion spell? And what does 'dare she own' mean?" Caval questioned Lyth when they finally stumbled upon a small road and the going became much smoother. "I could see it. Fidere seon means true sight." Lyth answered, enunciating the invocation carefully. "True sight." Caval repeated thoughtfully, reminded of the hag's translation of Vygll. Lyth could almost read his mind. His clan was proud of its abilities, but the basic trick was by no means a secret. The only prerequisite was magic potential, which Caval's aura indicated that he had in abundance. "Could I do it?" Caval asked, stopping in his tracks. "I mean, whatever it was that you did to see, do you think I could do it too? Could I try?" Caval had had all of the typical childhood illnesses, but other than that, he had always been healthy and able bodied. It was really frustrating to be dependent on someone else for something he had always taken for granted. He did not know how long he would be blinded, but he did know that his disability was already hindering him. He was willing to try anything if it would remedy that. Lyth considered Caval's question as if it had surprised him. He wondered again if he should reveal to Caval his potential, but again decided against it. Caval seemed prejudiced against magic and the knowledge might only interfere with his learning. Lyth pretended to be doubtful, "I don't know, Caval. You might not have what it takes." "Is it really hard to learn?" Caval asked, not catching on to Lyth's teasing. "It takes a lot of patience..." "I can be patient!" Caval interrupted in his eagerness, his action contradicting his claim. Lyth laughed and Caval smiled ruefully, the blindfold crinkling around his rounded cheeks. "It takes intense concentration and the ability to listen carefully to instructions." Lyth warned with feigned sternness. "I'm a fast learner and I have a good memory." Caval pleaded. "All right. Let's get started." Lyth finally allowed, unable to prolong his teasing. "Now?" Caval asked, suddenly hesitant. "You prefer to wait until your vision returns?" Caval removed the blindfold and the same wavery darkness renewed his urgency. "I'm ready. Tell me what to do." Lyth had never had the honor of teaching anyone before and he was unsure exactly how to begin. He initiated his own second sight, trying to pay attention to exactly what it was he did, but his attention to details only distracted him and made the visual transition more difficult. He tried to remember the voice of his teacher, gently lending focus where needed. "First you need to relax, calm yourself. If your emotions are out of control, you won't be able to focus." Caval did not answer verbally. He was excited about the prospect of learning this trick to compensate for his impairment. If he was excited he would not be able to focus, he repeated Lyth's words in his mind. He needed to be calm, serene. He drew in long breaths and released them slowly. His muscles were already loose from the hours of walking and as he cleared his mind of any anticipation he began to feel like he could fall asleep on his feet. "Good." Lyth praised in a quiet tone, trying not to upset the balance Caval had established. He could see Caval's aura condensing around his body as he concentrated, the blue becoming lighter, almost invisible. He wondered what influence developed this technique. Maybe he was just a Natural, which again indicated great possibilities for his future. "Allow your awareness to spread outward from your body. Reach out with your mind only, ignore your physical senses." "Fidere seon." Caval mumbled, repeating the syllables he heard Lyth use to direct his effort. A startling sunburst of blue light exploded from Caval and Lyth instinctively ducked from the insubstantial trails. Caval staggered like he was drunk and fell on his rump. His scabbard splayed out to his side like an extra limb. "Careful!" Lyth squeeked, throwing himself out of the way. "Wow." Caval intoned. He raised his hand to his forehead. Caval's aura wavered erratically as it retreated and then finally settled back into a neat rippling envelope around him. What in the world was that? Lyth thought, watching Caval's dazed motions. "Are you all right, Caval?" "I...I'm not sure." Magic could be dangerous to toy with. Maybe Caval needed a more experienced teacher, Lyth thought self-consciously. "I followed your instructions." Caval stated. Lyth noted that his tone was explanatory, not accusing. "I was so relaxed, I almost felt weightless. I allowed myself to float. My mind stretched out and I saw, um, at least I think, I mean it seemed like..." He paused, uncertain how to explain what he had seen. The visions and feelings had been crystal clear, but the rapid flashes were fading fast. "My sister." He vocalized finally. "Caydi was talking to me, moving her mouth but I couldn't hear her words. Then she pointed to the dark moon, which was rising over a mountain fortress. Suddenly the Skychildren were moving unnaturally. I could actually feel a numbing coldness and sense something coming after me, something big." "You saw all of that just now?" Lyth asked. No wonder Caval appeared shaken. He had not considered that human minds often played tricks on them. Caval might detect things that were partly imagination or wishful thinking, not actually expanded awareness. Caval seemed to confirm this when he continued. "No, I mean yes, but..." He paused again in concentration, briefly fingering the blindfold he held in his hand, "something fell over my eyes, it was a piece of weaving and the picture on the cloth was a map of the area around us, a town is just about four leagues that way." Lyth shook his head, Caval pointed west when the road headed northeast. Caval stopped. He knew he sounded crazy. He was talking just like his sister. He wondered if he had been Sending, but he could not interpret what his own babbling meant, any more than he understood her visions. Doubt of himself clouded his memory he could no longer recall anything with certainty. He could not hold onto the dreamlike images and he was kind of afraid to, thinking of his mother's admonishments about the Bad Gift. "Strange." Lyth declared. He had never experienced anything like that when he used his second sight. "Yes." Caval agreed as he stood up and absently brushed himself off. He began concentrating on relaxing himself again. "What are you doing?" Lyth asked with alarm, seeing Caval drawing in his aura again. "I'm going to try again." Caval stated simply. In spite of what happened, his original goal remained. He wanted to see. "But..." "I'm going to get it right this time." Caval whispered, almost to himself. Lyth was only partially reassured. He had thought that Caval was going to try to initiate those strange visions again. Lyth had heard of some conjurers who became addicted to walking within. They wasted their lives conjuring illusions for themselves. Lyth watched as Caval's aura trembled, then glowed, then winked back into a trembling envelope again. "Oh." Caval sighed. For just a moment he thought he had something. The small success encouraged him. He began his calming routine again, he could not let his hope distract him. He relaxed his hands, which he had not realized that he had balled up into fists. His palms were clammy and he was sweating all over. He felt as if he was under a strain more terrible than any physical exertion he had experienced before. Lyth interpreted Caval's wavering aura as a loss of control. He was about to suggest that Caval was trying too hard and that he should wait before making another attempt, but his aura suddenly coalesced, taking on the marvelously clear texture of fine glass. Caval looked like he was trapped in a bottle, and a heated one. He wiped the sweat from his face with his blindfold, then settled the cloth on his brow like a headband. His eyes rolled sightlessly in his head. Lyth waited patiently for Caval to share what he was experiencing. "Nothing." Caval lost his control with an exhaled gasp. "Nothing at all." Lyth smiled tolerantly, thinking of his first failed attempts to view the world with his own second sight. "You probably shouldn't overdo it at first." "I don't think I could even if I wanted too." Caval answered, his mouth bunching up into a trembling frown and a note of fatigue plain in his voice, but then he added defiantly. "I will try again as soon as I'm able." Caval continued on their journey without as much confidence, but kept up a steady pace with Lyth jogging along at his heels, giving him directions as needed. They traveled without incident, the road turning west as Caval had indicated it would. Just as Benygne peeked above the dead treetops, they reached a small town. It was really no more than a few cottages lining a widening of the road. "There's a piece of wood with something written on it." Lyth told Caval apprehensively, wondering if it was some kind of human warning. Caval stopped and felt the sign, allowing his fingers to trail the surface as if he were painting the letters himself. For a moment he was confused by the stylized strokes, then he was even more stunned to realize he could interpret the scrawling letters. "Podin." He announced. "It's the name of the town, I think." He smiled down at where he thought the little Fierie must be. Lyth explained his inability to read a little self-consciously. "I can't read Common, and not all of my people can speak it either. We have our own language that is a mixture of Faerie and the Old Tongue." Caval nodded thoughtfully. "Not all of my people can read either. Most just learn enough to get by. My mother insisted on teaching me and my sister. She used to say that 'wisdom comes from living, but knowledge can keep you alive'. I never thought much about it before because I always liked reading anyway." "Sounds like a very smart woman." Lyth complimented. "She is, and kind." Caval agreed, feeling an unexpected pang of homesickness for his close family. He hoped Caydi and his mother were all right. He knew that Bin meant his ultimatum about his getting a job or getting lost, but he could still have been angry at Caval's choice to leave. He sincerely hoped his mother and sister were not suffering in his absence. He shook off his worries with difficulty, noticing that Lyth was maintaining a respectful silence. The Fierie was probably homesick too. Caval's resolve was restrengthened. He shouldn't delay more than necessary. "Let's get going." Unexpectedly, Lyth balked. "If you don't mind, I'll meet up with you on the other side of town." "Where are you going?" Caval asked anxiously. How could Lyth abandon him while he was still at a disadvantage? "Just through the woods. Don't worry. I'll guide you to your destination like I promised." Caval guessed at Lyth's uncharacteristic shyness, "I don't think that they would be unkind to you, in fact, you'd probably be a sort of novelty to them." Lyth groaned. "That's exactly what I don't want." Caval had a vivid image of Lyth hanging from the crook of a child's arm the way Suvi held her dolls in an oblivious stranglehold. He was momentarily tempted to accompany Lyth and dodge around the town himself, but he really needed directions to the King's city. He wondered if he could read a map like he read the sign, but immediately decided detailed directions would be better. "I think I understand, and I'll try not to take too long. When you see me, just shout before I pass you by." "Will do." Caval heard Lyth blend into what he assumed was the typical variety of tall grass by the familiar dry rustling. Caval wondered how to proceed. He had already tried his sixth sense without much success, that left the other four that he still possessed. Other animals weren't as dependent on their sight. Orns used their hearing to swoop down on prey, and the dyrebeast followed scents. He would have to follow their example. He listened closely to the sounds of the town. Not helpful, flapping like snapping flags or pennants maybe, clotheslines outside of jorgosh's, tapping sound woodpik birds, squeaking wheel couldn't identify windmill as he's leaving town ends up following his nose. His eyes may not have been able to see shapes on a windowsill giving off a wonderful effervescence, but his nose told him immediately what they were. He placed his hand over where he believed them to be, feeling their warmth. He licked his lips hungrily. "What are you doing there, boy?" A stern voice called from a jerked open doorway. "They're hot..." he stated dumbly, snatching his errant hand away. "Of course they are." The man snapped as he hobbled out of the cottage. The sounds of his voice and movements gave Caval the impression of anger and old age. "Best damn pies anywhere." The angry old man yelled, as if expecting, or hoping for, an argument. Caval smiled benignly, trying to think of something to say. Just blurting out "Where am I?" didn't seem like the best approach. The angry old man probably thought he was simple already. The man just hmphed, as if Caval's silence confirmed everything, and continued his lame gait down the street. Caval found himself unable to follow the man, and not just because he seemed grumpy and unapproachable. The attraction of the fresh baked pies was just too great. He remained by the window, breathing in the delicious aromas. "Don't let Snider scare you off, come on in." A pleasant voice invited from inside. Caval did not need to be asked twice. He stumbled over the stoop in his haste to enter. "I shouldn't have been so rude." "Nonsense." She contradicted. "You're hungry. This is definitely the place to be." "Actually, I have provisions." "Ewgh, dried up travel rations, I'm sure. Something fresh wouldn't kill you, you know. Please, sample anything, buy what you like." Her voice took on a practiced commercial tone and a wave of her arm indicated the array of baked goods. The cottage was obviously a robust business. He bit his lip with indecision. "Something hearty first, I think." He mumbled hopefully and on cue she cut large slices off of two choice rolls that he nodded to at random. He started to take out his money. "Uh, uh." She admonished. "Eat first." She propelled him toward a small table and sat down across from him. It was now his turn to feel self-conscious as she watched him take his first bite. BLIND LUCK © 2002 M.D. KOFFIN THIS DRAFT IS FOR PREVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT COPY OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S EXPRESSED PERMISSION.