Kelton and Tarvakian rode slow mounts meant to pull wagons toward the Lacor river. They followed behind Filgot and Grag, whose steeds were far more agile. Kelton was fine with his mare's plodding nature. He hadn't ridden enough to feel comfortable controlling an animal with more energy.

The Lacor was wider than Kelton had hoped. It was not a stream that could be crossed without thought. The water ran clear, exposing a bottom of mud and rock. Its depth at the center was impossible to see from the shore, and even clear water could hide actual depth.

"This is where the healers cross," Grag said as he dismounted. Some of his age showed in his movements making him less fluid than his wife. "It is below the knee all the way across." He shrugged. "At least it has been so in the past dry seasons. The river is a living thing, and change is its only promise."

Everyone dismounted, and Filgot examined the edge of the river.

"Easy enough for a horse, but too deep a drop for the wagons," Filgot said.

"Can we not lessen it with stone?" Kelton asked as he led his horse near the edge.

"Aye, that may work," Filgot said. He sat down and began removing his boots. "No need soaking them through, sir," he told Tarvakian in answer to a questioning look.

Kelton followed suit, and with boots secured on their horses, they stepped into the current, pulling their mounts behind. The bottom was firm and accepted horse hoof easily enough. Kelton had to urge his mount forward after it decided it was time to stall for a drink.

The river moved gently, flowing around their legs with barely a pull. The center was mid-calf deep and muddier than the sides. Nothing too slippery, and the horses didn't seem to acknowledge the change. Kelton found the feeling of the mud squeezing between his toes oddly pleasant as if it were wrapping his feet in comfort.

"Up over there," Grag said. Kelton looked at where the man was pointing. Both Grag and Tarvakian decided to remain safe and dry on the bank. Filgot moved toward the indicated part of the far bank, where the lush vegetation seemed less imposing. It was all in contrast to the sparse bank from which they entered; the far side had seen no care by farmers and grew wild as nature desired. A thick wall of green overhung the water and hid dry land.

"Will the wagons move through this mud?" Kelton asked Filgot.

"Aye, it is only a thin layer. It feels sturdy enough below," Filgot said. The horses ignored it and moved as if it were solid. "It is the rise that concerns me. That tangle of growth hides solid ground, and wheels are poor climbers."

Filgot gave the reigns of his horse to Kelton. He withdrew his sword and went to work on the vegetation. Kelton walked down the river a short way to verify the sparseness of their first attempt. As far as he could see, the bank was a thick weave of plants and trees. Further down, fallen trees made traversing with a wagon even more difficult. The healers weren't trying to get a cart across, but they did find the most accessible place to cross in the vicinity.

"Worse down that way?" Tarvakian called out.

"Aye, Master," Kelton responded as he returned. They had ridden down from the other direction and already knew it was too thick that way. Filgot broke through after cutting down a small bush. He climbed on to the bank and disappeared behind a wall of green.

"It is less thick here," Filgot said when he returned to the river. "Bring my boots." He waved Kelton forward. It was a short struggle to get the horses to climb up the bank. Soon, both he and Filgot were booted and examining the beginnings of the jungle.

"It is odd," Filgot said, pointing due west. "It is as if this way is all new growth. Nothing thicker than a finger." His hand waved toward each side. "It is less so left and right. The trees are tight together and thicker than my thigh." His eyes squinted. "All-Father, are those spikes?" They tied the horses to a bush and moved toward a black trunked tree.

"As long as my hand," Kelton said as he touched the end of one of the many thorns that protruded laterally from the tree. He looked at the small drop of blood that formed on the tip of his finger from the prick. "Sharp as a needle as well."

"I think this be your path," Filgot said, returning to newer growth. "If the map is as old as you think, then we are not the only ones to find it. Mayhap, large animals walk its breadth and keep larger things from growing."

"Mayhap," Kelton agreed. They walked deeper and Filgot pointed out a few trampled plants forming a semblance of a trail. There was no good impression in the ground to guess as to the cause. "It looks wide enough?"

"Aye," Filgot said. "Though we'll be sharpening blades often." He looked back to the sides of the green tunnel. "We will be sleeping upon the trail as well. I would not want to wake in the dark and have my face find one of those trees." He took a step into the thicker portion and pulled back a dead branch. "Plenty of deadfall." He lifted it higher and exposed a wet underbelly. "It will burn, but we may want to carry dry kindling with us."

"Aye," Kelton said, nodding his head. He didn't want to spend a night without a fire. He looked up at the canopy. It formed a thick roof overhead. "Direction will be difficult during midday. Slow going, if we wish to be careful."

"Our second adventure," Filgot said with a smile. "And we were not careful the first time."

"Mayhap, this time will be without issue," Kelton said. They looked toward the spiked trees and shared a laugh. Kelton didn't know what he expected from a jungle, but needled trees were never imagined. Shouts from his master drove them both back to the bank.

"We are safe, Master," Kelton shouted back in answer to his master's worries. "There is a path of sorts here. It is thick elsewhere."

"It will be slow going," Filgot said. "Walking speed at best with cutters leading." He paused a moment before adding, "It can be done. "

"Then it shall be," Tarvakian said. "Can you ride back across?"

"Aye, sir," Filgot said. He cut away some of the stubborn vegetation at the bank to give the horses, and riders, a better look at the short drop. Kelton followed Filgot's horse, trusting that his plodding beast would follow unerringly. It was a jarring drop into the river, and he had to hang on tight when they rose onto the opposite bank.

"We will need to smooth out the banks with stone for the wagons," Filgot said when Kelton caught up.

"Is the brush thick?" Grag asked.

"Plentiful, but not too thick along the path, sir," Kelton replied. He held up his little finger. "Mayhap, some are this thick near the ground. Most below my eyes."

"We have some blades for that," Grag said. He turned toward Tarvkian. "They are made for rice but will make short work of weeds and such. We'll not be using them until next season, mayhap we could come to an arrangement." He grinned.

"A deal to birth future deals, is that it?" Tarvakian asked. He was smiling as well.

"It is how friends work, is it not?"

"Aye," Tarvkian agreed. He and Grag mounted their horses, and they all returned to camp.

Heldi Somerfield had taken over the makeshift kitchen. It was a desirable turn of events. Kelton found her rice from the night before tastier than any he had experienced before. As her husband had indicated, she had a way with herbs. Kelton decided it was in his stomach's interest to help her.

"Spoon," Heldi ordered and indicated the wooden spoons with her eyes as she sprinkled a little of her heaven into a pot. Kelton did as requested without a word, handing her a long-handled wooden spoon. She stirred as she spoke. "This one will require a medium rock, and it must be placed on the edge of the fire." She shook her head. "Not touching any coals, mayhap a rock between."

Kelton looked around and found what he thought was a medium stone and presented it to Heldi. She nodded and handed him the covered pot. It was a stew based on the rabbits that Taggert acquired that morning. Kelton returned to Heldi once he had placed the pot next to the fire in a place that he imagined she would approve.

"It is done, my lady," Kelton said. Heldi was already on the next step of the noon meal, cutting the ends off of some late season carrots.

"You work well," Heldi said. She slowed her cutting and looked up at Kelton. "It is odd. I do not see you content with following, yet you seem comfortable with your owner." She pointed to the rice fields with the knife. "Those fields will outlive my husband and me. Yet from now until the world stops turning, they will always be better for the mark we left on them." She smiled at Kelton. "Where are your fields?"

"Can it not be house Tarvakian?"

"It is not your house," Heldi said, shaking her head, then returned to the carrots. "It is Heralic's legacy, and his son's, and his son's after him. Do you not fear being lost?"

"Are we not all lost in time?"

"Aye," Heldi said with a chuckle. "You have a good mind and a soul that floats like a cloud. I am more like lightning, demanding to scorch something for all to see. I do not know why others don't demand it as well." She lifted the knife again, pointing it a Kelton. "Especially someone like you."

"Mayhap, being seen is a risk," Kelton said. Heldi's eyebrows rose. "A risk to others that have no say."

"Herlic holds you that tight?"

"Nay," Kelton said. "Others here do, and more elsewhere."

"Your owner is on the council," Heldi said, shaking her head. "You do not need to worry about others..." Her hand stopped cutting and her eyes froze on the board. Kelton could tell understanding was growing. "You have already been seen too much - by those with more power."

"Aye," Kelton said. "It is best I am unseen for a time." He smiled inside at the humor of what he said. The words had flown from his lips before he had thought of the double meaning.

"The city does not tolerate lightning." Heldi returned to her carrots. "It is as if all are asleep and wish never to wake. It is why I am happiest here, far from those that rule." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "And far from those who own others."

"It is a rare thought outside of those who are owned," Kelton whispered back. "Rarer still to word such a thing to one who is owned."

"Not so rare," Heldi said with a shrug. "What is odd is that my mind leads one way, and yet finds admiration in a house that goes another way." She smiled at Kelton. "I desire to visit and will relish being served as I trade words with the princess. What does that say about me?"

"You are honest," Kelton said. "I have found happiness in house Tarvakian, yet dislike the laws that dictate I am there. I will grow old as a slave and not hate my master as I should." He looked over at Tarvakian, who was laughing at something Grag said to him. "Is it because of the man?" He shrugged. "Or mayhap, my convictions are weak. By accepting, am I not adding to what I find so wrong?"

"He is a good man," Heldi said. "Though he sees wrong things as normal. You can not hate him for learning from his sire as I did from my own father." She pushed the cut carrots from the board they were cut on, into a wooden bowl. "The kingdom says he is in the right, so he stands proudly and builds a house many idolize. That you find happiness where misery should exist, says much about him." She smirked as she handed Kelton the bowl. "You have thought of running, have you not?"

"Aye," Kelton whispered his answer. "My master saw through it and did things that instilled chains of loyalty I can not break." He looked back at Tarvakian. "I think he would close his eyes and allow me to run, and that alone makes me stay. Due care is his religion and I help him provide it. Is it so bad that many sleep in warm beds and eat well? Nay, I will stay until released as is my vow."

Heldi handed Kelton the bowl. "Once the lid lifts the rock, remove the pot from the fire and add these. If you time it right, they will be warmed and yet still crunch well. They hold more flavor that way."

"Aye, my lady," Kelton said and turned toward the fire.

Heldi reached out and stalled him. "And if he releases you?"

"He will not," Kelton replied. His mind wandered to his homeland and the cherished memory of a pair of lips. Going back was death for him and all he cared about. He hadn't the power to thwart the world or even a single brother. "And I have nowhere else to go."

Heldi let him go. "You can always grow rice," she said.

Kelton nodded at the offer of friendship. It had value. "A dream to add to many, my lady." He moved back to the fire to monitor the stew. When he looked back, Heldi winked at him. A conspiracy of words had bonded them. He smiled back and sat near the pot, poking the fire with a stick.

Time moved slowly as Kelton waited for the stone to lift. It had been a while since he had thought about freedom. He wondered what he would do if it could be acquired. He had grown used to his life. He had found, through some pain, the boundaries of what he could do. The world allowed some latitude, like seeking a western passage and traces of the Nagada. House Tarvakian gave him power and family. Granted, he could only shift the power within his master's tolerance. It is the sense of family he cherished the most. It wasn't so bad having friends near and no fear of where the next meal was coming from.

Kelton was content and wondered if that was a bad thing to be. The world was broken in so many ways, yet he had found comfort. It was not perfect, though the memory of running hungry through the forest was less so. This time, he would be moving through a jungle with purpose, no one wishing him dead, and not risking the end of others as well. An adventure with knowledge as the reward, as opposed to survival. An adventure by choice and not necessity.

Kelton smiled and tossed his stick into the fire.

"You find humor in flames?" Tarvakian asked him.

"Nay, Master," Kelton replied. "I find humor in my contentment. It is a wonder how my mind has shifted from anger at my plight to acceptance and comfort with my life. I see now what Vasco tried to tell me long ago. I could not see why he would forgo freedom and take the silver." Kelton looked Tarvakian in the eyes. "Bondage can be freedom when the master respects the lives of those he holds."

"Not words I expect from property," Grag said.

"He is not normal property," Tarvakian said. "His mind never slows, always weighing options. In this, I hear praise." He smiled at Kelton and lifted his mug in salute. "Something I value greatly."

"So they will not run off in the jungle," Grag said, as if it were the first time he believed Kelton's initial denial.

"Nay," Tarvakian said. "Has someone tried the path before?"

"Not in my lifetime," Grag replied, shaking his head. "There are tales of early settlers, the ones I spoke about whose houses failed. All had property and all lost everything. It is said the owners were found lifeless and the property scattered to the winds." He shrugged. "Mayhap, they were brutal taskmasters, and I have imposed the stories upon your house unjustly. It is just that we are far from the King's justice here, and I thought it could breed ideas in your property."

"Nay, sir," Kelton said. "Though many may desire another life, most know the house they labor for, labors for them as well. Do not all, property and free, wish for something better?"

"Aye, I suppose we all do," Grag replied, nodding.

"We will not struggle to break the laws in a risk to move from good into the unknown," Kelton said. "Our Master is fair in a broken world."

Tarvakian laughed. "You see. His mind churns and finds reason in the ocean of his doubts. He sees things others miss, ways of thinking that my house sorely needs. It is why my house has grown as it has." He again raised his mug to Kelton.

A gift of pride was something Kelton had little defense against. Both mug salutes swelled inside him and warmed his heart. He realized Tarvakain's hold on him was powerful.

They spent the afternoon preparing the river banks for wagons. Some gathering rock, others barefoot in the water, placing the stones to form makeshift ramps so the wheels could travel unhindered.

Grag's rice blades were attached to arm's-length poles and curved inward. It allowed the sharp edge to gather growth and cut it low to the ground without excessive bending at the waist. With three of the blades available, it would significantly speed travel. Tarvakian struck a deal with coin to borrow the blades that could be subtracted from future wagon use, if and when that could be negotiated.

It was decided, house Tarvakian would begin the jungle trek in the morning. Kelton could hardly sleep. He wasn't sure what he would find, but looking was its own reward. Adventure was his profit.