Kelton's body tightened, and he looked away as one healer secured Zello's torso and another pulled on Zello's leg. His young master screamed as the bones were set back to where they belonged.

"It is done," the healer said as he felt along the bruised leg with talented fingers, the touches eliciting new groans from Zello. "It will ache, sir, but the worst of it is over."

"He will walk?" Alliette asked as she wiped tears.

"Aye, your highness," the healer replied. "And run again in time. It was a good break, as breaks go, and it repositioned well. We will strap it with boards, and in a few months, he will be hobbling about. By this time next year, he will have forgotten it happened."

"I doubt that," Zello said, his voice strained with pain.

It was an odd accident. A wagon load of wine casks had two different counts - one derived from the agreement, the other from the driver's tally. Vasco, Kelton, and Zello examined the load and established a third count that differed from the other two. They were in the process of another count when Zello lost his footing and tumbled off the wagon, startling the horses. Kelton could still hear the agony in Zello's yell when the wheel rolled over his leg. It echoed a moment behind the snap of the bone.

"You must remain still for a time, sir," the other healer instructed. "Remaining in bed is best."

Alliette interrupted the beginning of Zello's disagreement. "And in bed he will remain." She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I will be your nurse."

"My jailor, you mean," Zello grumbled.

"Aye, my love," Alliette said. "Yelvin will have to be satisfied with only half my attention. I have two to care for now." She smiled and whispered something Kelton couldn't hear into Zello's ear. It must have been pleasing since it brought a smile to Zello's otherwise pained face. Kelton suspected his time in bed won't be all misery.

"The count?" Zello asked as if it were suddenly important.

"The count is correct to the agreement," Tarvakian said as he entered the room. "And how is my son?"

"He will mend in time, sir," the healer said. "Bedbound for now, but he will be on his feet in a month or two."

"Correct? How is that?" Zello asked, ignoring his prognosis.

"There were two half-barrels under the buckboard," Tarvakian said, waving away his son's concern. "Some counted them full, and others missed them altogether. At least everyone else stayed on their feet as they counted."

"All-Father," Zello said. "The path through the western jungle." He slammed his fist on the bed. "Of all the times to lose my footing."

"It will still be there next year, Master," Kelton said, trying not to sound disappointed. He knew from the moment he heard the bone snap that the trip was in jeopardy.

"All that planning." Zello groaned.

"It will not be wasted," Tarvakian said. "I will go in your place, and you'll lead things here. The King now has an interest in the path, and I'll not have him sending another house to reap our profits." Kelton tried to hide his glee. Tarvakian's talk with the King had been more fruitful than Kelton could have hoped. It would not be another year.

"Father, the journey will be rough."

"Too old, am I?"

"That is not what I said."

"Aye, it is," Tarvakian said. "My backside can sit upon a wagon as well as yours." He smiled. "And unlike you, I can stay up on the wagon even while it is still."

"There was a wet spot," Zello complained.

"Don't torture him, father," Alliette said. "He's had pain enough for his clumsiness."

"Wet spot!" Zello repeated.

The healers moved Alliette and Tarvakian away from the bed. They fed cloth strips under Zello's leg and secured two cushioned boards that immobilized his knee. It did not look comfortable.

"And how am I to relieve myself?"

"As Yelvin does, my love," Alliette said with humor in her eyes. "You are going to owe me much by the time this is over."

"We will return in five days to assess the repair," the healer said.

"I thank you for your talents," Tarvakian said. "Vasco, my silver, is in the main hall with your fee. If you wish, you may stay for the noon meal."

"Most kind, sir. Alas, this is only the first stop of many for this day. Mayhap, when we return we will be less needed."

"Of course," Tarvakian said. "Kelton, show these men to Vasco."

"Aye, Master." Kelton did as requested. He would have preferred Zello as leader of the trek but was more than willing to accept the elder as opposed to waiting or never going at all. Tarvakain was more pragmatic and risk-averse. He hoped his master wouldn't turn back at the first minor setback.

The rice fields were a marvel. Kelton was amazed at the construction needed to farm such a wide area. Each field bordered by berms. Each berm had wooden gates fit into its structure to hold or release water on demand. They could be lifted in a series to allow water to flow between desired fields, yet leave others dry. There were near a hundred of these fields, each interlocked with its neighbor - cooperation a necessity.

"Perhaps I am too old," Tarvakian said as he rose on the buckboard to relieve his backside. They were on their eleventh day of travel and just now nearing the Lacor river. "My bones feel every bump. My arse is likely an ugly color."

"Mine as well, Master," Kelton said. He was sitting behind in the wagon, having been relieved of the reigns for a spell. It was tiring doing nothing but wagoning for so many days. There were grunts of agreement from the other property. In the back, you could spread the pain by shifting your weight about, but it was more of a delay than real relief.

Filgot came riding back. As was his way, he had scouted ahead, leaving two mounted guards and an additional three resting in the wagons. They swapped time on horses to spare their mounts constant riders. The relieved horses plodded behind the second wagon on a chain of rope.

"The river is ahead, sir," Filgot said after he turned his horse about and mirrored the wagon's crawl. "There is a clearing ahead, large enough for a night or two. A good place to camp while we find the best place to cross."

"How does the river look?" Tarvakian asked.

"Not the trickle we hoped," Filgot replied. "The current looks easy enough, but it is hard to tell depth and strength without stepping into it."

"Then we shall heed your wisdom and stop for a day or so. Our travel pains will be the better for it."

"Is it wide?" Kelton asked, fearful it would be impassible without engineering.

"Mayhap, twenty horses wide," Filgot replied. "I think it fordable if we take the time to find the right entry."

"We will not traverse it this day," Travakian said to Kelton. "We make camp, and tomorrow is soon enough to seek a crossing, and we'll do so without these laden wagons slowing us. The horses could use a good rest. They may not have another for many days."

"Aye, Master," Kelton said. He had to agree. The trip had been slow, repetitive, and exhausting. Not traveling for a day or two would do wonders for both man and beast.

As had been the practice each night, they erected three tents; one for Tarvakian, one for the guards, and the final for property. A fire pit was dug and circled with rocks in front of the tents. Deadfall was gathered, and soon flames were crackling. Two of the guards, Taggert being one, disappeared into the trees in hopes of acquiring fresh meat. In case they failed, a pot was set to boil for stew. They transported plenty of dried meats to fill bellies when the hunting was unfruitful.

"Are you not sore?" Tarvakian asked Kelton as he stood before the fire. Kelton was sitting on a dead tree that had fallen long ago. It had taken four men to drag it to the fire as a bench.

"Some, Master," Kelton replied.

"My backside is complaining like a babe missing the teat," Tarvakian said. "I am wondering if I could find a way to sleep standing tonight." Kelton and the others around the fire laughed. Some were standing as well, rubbing their butts in sympathy.

"Rider coming," Filgot said as he entered the circle. He pointed to the north. Along one of the ridges that bordered the rice fields, a horse approached at a trot.

"Welcome them," Tarvakian said. Filgot's hand let go of the pommel of his sword. "One rider is no threat if no others are seen."

"Aye, sir," Filgot said and moved toward where the rider was most likely to arrive. He smiled and waved to direct the approach to himself. The rider, a man with a full beard that ran to his navel, brought his stead to a halt before Filgot. There was a brief discussion before he dismounted. Taggert took the reigns and led the man's horse to the makeshift coral while Filgot brought the man forward.

"Grag Summerfield, I present you to Heralic Tarvakian, owner of the wagons and property you see before you." Filgot turned to Tarvakian. "Sir, owner Summerfield possesses most of the fields we see before us."

"Well met," Tarvakian said.

"Aye, well met," Summerfield said, and the two grasped wrists. "I saw your smoke and thought I'd see who crosses my land."

"Your land?" Tarvakian said. "My sorrows if we have trespassed. We but followed the road. Granted, it has been more of a path the last half of this day."

"Trespass you have, and I demand payment," Summerfield said gruffly, then smiled. "Conversation and news of the city ought to do nicely."

"Then you shall have it," Tarvakian said, showing his smile and offering a seat. Kelton rose to make room. "Some of mine are hunting in the trees south of here. Have I taken another liberty on your lands?"

"Aye, and now you must feed me as well. Your list of debts grows."

"In truth, I welcome the conversation," Tarvakian said. He ignored his pains and sat next to Summerfield. "We've been traveling so long, the words between us have become stale. You're like a star breaking through a cloudy night."

Summerfield laughed. "My wife would argue that I am more like the clouds."

"That's because our wives know us best," Tarvakain said. Summerfield nodded his acknowledgment. Their conversation had an instant warmth as if they had known each other for months, not mere moments. Kelton retreated to the other side of the fire so as not to interfere.

"What is house Tarvakain's interest with this end of the world?" Summerfield asked.

"I deal in cloth and wagon transport," Tarvakian said. "It was my son's idea to break a path through the jungle to the west. Unfortunately, he has suffered a leg break, so I am dragging these old bones to the task."

"Through Assima's Bane?"

"I have not heard it called that."

"Aye, it is the name for it around here." Summerfield pointed toward his fields. "The first king's men met doom there, right where my rice now grows." His eyes scrunched up. "You mean to spend nights in there?"

"That is the plan."

"There are healers who gather herbs across the Lacor but only during the day. There are things that prowl the thicket, and they move when it's dark. You can hear them sometimes, and the squeals of what they hunt. Many, including myself, have seen their eyes glowing from across the river." Summerfield's nose wrinkled. "There are snakes and other bothersome things as well. It is bad enough when it leaks to this side on occasion."

"I have brought guards enough," Tarvakian said in his defense.

"Aye, but are they not busy keeping your property from fleeing?"

"We will not flee, Sir," Kelton said with more determination than he intended. Somerfield's eyebrows rose. Kelton hadn't meant to speak, but it seemed the comment was an insult to his master's care.

"Not all houses are like mine, Kelton," Tarvakian said, excusing Somerfield's comment. "You know that more than most."

"Kelton?" Somerfield said. "I have heard of that name. And you bear the scar of the stories." He drew his finger from his lip to his ear. "A cure for the vine, I heard. Also, a tale of you fighting off a hundred sailors with a single blade."

"It was not a hundred, Sir," Kelton said, his tone sounding like an apology. "And the cure was not my doing. I only found those who did know."

"Picture mind?" Somerfield asked.

"Aye, he is that," Tarvakian said. "Has the whole King's Truth in his head. It is a wonder it doesn't burst from overflowing."

"If it is not a bother, I'd like to collect my wife, Heldi, to join us," Somerfield said to Tarvakian. "She was enamored with the tales of this one." He smiled at Kelton. "I do not mean to treat you as one would a horse, but you are unique in these parts. I would not hear the end of it if you were to pass through with her unknowing."

"I assure you, I am less than the tales, Sir," Kelton said. "Beyond that, if my Master so deems, I would be happy to meet your wife."

"I insist," Tarvakian said. "As payment, of course." They both chuckled as Somerfield rose.

"I will bring some rice to the feast, and my Heldi's seasoning talents as well. She can make dung taste like roast pig."

Somerfield rode off with a smile on his face. Kelton assumed the locals had limited visitors this far west, and house Tarvakian was more welcome than they first thought. He had a feeling Somerfield always intended to bring his wife, once he scouted out friend or foe.

"Kelton," Tarvakian ordered. "Gather some men and collect wood enough for the night. I desire a healthy fire to ward of the vermin that owner Somerfield spoke of. Filgot, if you please, take who you need and see to adequate seating." He looked around a bit, then added, "Baranda, you and Plenic find some seclusion downwind. Dig a small latrine and border it with one of the tarps."

A chorus of "Aye, sir" and "Aye, Master" floated in the air as all heeded their instructions. Tarvakian nodded and moved toward what had been declared the kitchen; the lowered back of the supply wagon. More orders rang out as he defined what stores would be accessed that night. We had guests, so there would be wine.

Heldi Somerfield traveled on a dull white horse half a size larger than her husband's. The mare moved with intent, the rider confident as if she'd been doing it all her life. Kelton was envious of the skill, the woman's ability to look one way, and steer the horse another. They traversed the ridges of the fields at a speed Kelton would never have thought to attempt.

"Welcome, Lady Somerfield," Filgot said with a bow of his head. He took the reigns of her horse as she dismounted in a fluid movement that seemed without thought. Her hair was long, its gray strands shackled into a tail that trailed down her back. Wrinkles smiled from the corner of her eyes as she greeted Tarvakian.

"You are Herlic Tarvakian," Heldi said before Tarvakian could speak. Her husband was still riding along the last ridge. "The newest member of the King's counsel?"

"Aye, my Lady," Tarvakian said with a slight bow.

"The princess, Alliette Victalica, now calls your house hers," Heldi said.

"You know my house well."

"Aye, there has been talk of you and yours." In a surprising move, Heldi kissed Tarvakian on his cheek and wrapped her arms around him. "I welcome you to our land." She stepped back and smiled at Tarvakian's blush.

"You ride too fast, Heldi," Grag Somerfield said as he dismounted. He removed a sack from the back of the beast.

"Or you to slow, husband. Our guest is near royalty, and I'll not spare a moment." Heldi looked toward Filgot and her mare. "Wait a moment, sir. There is a bag I require." She moved off to gather it.

"She is excited for news," Grag told Tarvakian, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "My sorrows if she more forward than you are used too."

"I have rarely felt so welcome," Tarvakian said. "I look forward to fresh conversation and will happily supply what I can."

"King's Counsel?"

"Aye, it is one of my duties."

"I did not know your importance, my sorrows."

"Sorrows? For what? It is I who entered your hold without invitation. My duties elsewhere are no excuse for rudeness." Tarvakian shrugged. "We are both owners and equal in my eyes."

"I do not have the ear of the king," Grag said, adding a smile.

"Aye, nor his anger when things are not just so," Tarvakian said. Kelton watched Tarvakian force his stature into the background. It was a masterful how he made Grag see him as a friend and not a superior. Tarvakian had power and he refused to use it in a self-serving manner.

"I'll have the rice, husband," Heldi said. Grag gave her the bag, which she added to her own supplies. "It that the kitchen?" She pointed to the back of the wagon.

"Aye," Tarvakian replied. "Let me get someone..."

"My thanks, but help I do not need," Heldi interrupted. "Perhaps some conversation while I work." She smiled at Kelton and pointed the bag at him. "It this one free?" Tarvakain nodded to Kelton.

"At your service, my Lady," Kelton said with a bow. Grag and Tarvakian sat by the fire. Kelton followed Heldi to the wagon.

"There is much talk about you," Heldi said as she procured a large pot. "Stories travel here well enough, but I never thought to see your like as well. Most avoid a dead end." Kelton held the pot steady as she opened the bag and poured the grains of rice. "Water?"

"The first barrel, my lady," Kelton said, indicating with his elbow.

"You may call me Heldi," she said with a smile. She climbed onto the wagon with the ease of someone used to labor.

"You are an owner," Kelton said. "It is my lady to one such as me." He smiled and added. "My lady."

Heldi grabbed the ladle hanging on the side of the barrel and began moving water to the pot. "I own Grag, and he owns me. Together, we own many of the fields you see and a small home that is crowded when four have entered. I work as you do and do not merit the title."

"You do not own other property?" Kelton asked.

"Nay, we are a free house, small as it is." She examined pot and added water, then added two more ladles worth before climbing back down. "There are no coppers or silvers this far west. No need for it, as I see it."

"Who tends to the fields?"

"We do." She smiled again as she stirred the mixture of rice and water. "Planting and harvesting are done together, by all who live hereabouts. Beyond that, there is no need for coppers to sit idle and watch rice grow." She opened her smaller bag, which contained even smaller cloth containers, and began to season the water.

"It is truly your work then," Kelton said as he looked out at the number of fields. "It is an honorable thing to do. You have earned the title more than some, my lady."

"Flattery, and by such a tall, handsome lad." Heldi chuckled. "It brings back memories of my courting." She gestured with head toward her husband. "He could send tingles down my spine with his whispers." She sighed. "Now, our love is more like the sky. Always there, yet rarely noticed."

Heldi stirred the pot some more, then dipped her finger in and tasted the mixture. She added a few more spices, then some more stirring. Confident in her skills, she didn't taste it again before covering it with a lid.

"I have heard stories of your scar," Heldi said. "None the same, and all fantastical. May I hear the truth of it."