Kelton let go of Farni's arm, then retook it as he almost stumbled. His strength and balance had yet to return. Opul said it would be many days. Kelton thought a good night's sleep should have done it. Maybe when he could hold down something other than broth, his muscles would become his again. The piece of meat he attempted earlier decided to eject itself forcefully.

Farni said something to Opul. Opul chuckled and began to translate.

"Stubborn," Kelton grumbled to end the need. "She has called me that more than once."

"Aye, stubborn," Opul said. "It is the way of those who kill beasts, cast down the vine, and live to tell about it. She finds it humorous."

"It is easily laughed at when she can take steps without falling," Kelton said. He was irritated with his body's revolt against his will. Opul translated before he could stop her. To his surprise, Farni let go, and two steps later, he found himself on all fours. Farni knelt, raised his head, and placed her forehead on hers. She was smiling as she spoke.

"She says she will laugh all she wants," Opul translated. "That you live gives her pleasure. This day, she is your strength. Soon, you will not need her and that will be a miserable happiness. Until then, you are her overgrown fire-headed newly born."

Kelton tried to remain grumpy since it suited his situation. He failed and smiled at the joy in Farni's eyes. It was a wonder that she found anything pleasant about what had happened. His muscles felt rubbery, his balance cockeyed, and his joints fought bending. He was a mess of a man. Still, Farni chose to laugh and take joy from being near.

"I am most grateful for all you are doing," Kelton said. "I war with my weakness, and I have failed to appreciate the strength you provide." He looked down at his knees on the ground. "I crawl without you. It is true; I am a babe again."

Farni brushed away the beginnings of the translation and helped Kelton to his feet. She was the mother, and he was the little one. At least when it came to movement. He was sure she would make him crawl everywhere if he insisted on remaining sullen. And she would laugh as she followed close behind.

"She likes you," Opul said.

"Aye," Kelton said. "I will struggle to be worthy of it."

They moved toward the central fire, Kelton's arm once again entwined with Farni's. It was odd that the routine tribal tasks were not being performed. There was no group of young ones struggling with hides or ropes. Instead, large logs stripped of bark had been placed around the fire forming layers of large circles. Upon them sat the tribe, young and old, with seemingly no specified order, all facing the open area that surrounded the fire. It had been done while he slept.

"A meeting?" Kelton asked.

"Aye," Opul replied. She pointed to one log upon which many old ones sat. Some had bright blue feathers hanging from cords about their necks—an odd decoration. There was no symmetry, nor pleasing display about the feathers. They simply dangled. "An elder gathering happens a few times a year."

"The feathers?" Kelton asked, "They are rank of sorts?"

"Nay." Opul shook her head. "Some elders are beyond travel, as most of us will one day be. Their voices are given to those they trust most, signified by the feathers. It is what serves as politics here, though there is no battle for most. It means friends are near their end."

"But it reminds all that they are still here," Kelton said with a smile. He thought it was a good thing, and it brought forth the memory of Beldin's struggles to feel needed.

"Aye, and thinking of the tribe," Opul agreed.

They maneuvered around the first circle of logs, and Kelton was stopped from sitting in the back row. Unyvon'ar, with his crooked face, rose from his seat and waved the trio forward to the elder's log. Many conversations began to fade as Kelton, embarrassingly, was helped to the center ring of logs. He shoved his pride away with a sigh and took the offered seat next to Unyvon'ar. It would have been easier if all hadn't become silent during the ordeal. Opul, as instructed, sat to the other side of Kelton.

Unyvon'ar looked at the crowd, smiled, then began to speak. Opul whispered the translation as she was expected to do.

"The tribe has a new story." Unyvon'ar used his hands to emphasize his words. It looked grander than the translation let on. "It will be added to our memories, and grow with us. The elders will fade and new ones emerge, yet our stories endure unchanged. For they are the Nagada, and we are but their keepers." He brought his fists to his chest. "Hold them dear, little ones. For they will guide your actions better than our old flesh." He motioned with his palm to a hut that lay just outside the circle. "And now it begins."

Unyvon'ar sat as a young man appeared from behind the hut. He was armed with a spear and began walking toward the fire, down an aisle that had been created for the event. Laughter erupted when the next man appeared from behind the hut. Kelton had thought being weak like a child was embarrassing. He was so very wrong.

Lin'cy emerged from around the hut carrying a water jar. His hair was weaved with bright red flowers as if they had grown there. One arm encircled the pot, and the other hand was busy preening the flowery wig as he walked. There was no doubt he was meant to be Kelton, and even less uncertainty that he was enjoying the act. The crowd was hysterical. Unyvon'ar tapped Kelton's shoulder, with a broad open-mouthed crooked smile, and used his hands to indicate the obvious; Lin'cy was Kelton. Opul was covering her mouth with her hand, but still her laughter leaked out. Farni, who sat next to Opul, wasn't trying to hide her joy at all.

A line of other little ones emerged, each endeavoring not to smile as they carried their jugs. At the tail was My'taa, followed by a young woman who played Farni with a spear. It wasn't lost on Kelton that Farni wasn't displayed comically.

When the procession entered the center, it stalled as Lin'cy's nose went up in the air, sniffing as if he had caught the scent of something. All laughter stopped as he looked one way, then the other, snorting at the air. He dropped his burden and turned, yelling, "vic'aven." It was not what Kelton yelled, but it was only a story. Gossamer had taught Kelton that tales were meant to be sharpened like a sword.

The line of young ones scattered, leaving My'taa and Farni's clone. A boy sitting as a spectator nearest My'taa pulled black fur over his body and leaped off the log. The planning impressed Kelton. He had not expected the beast to appear from the crowd.

My'taa screamed, and Farni's clone jumped between the beast and My'taa. They went down together in a slow overly-dramatic fall. The boy had something in his hand, for he painted red marks on Farni's cheek and subsequentially, My'taa's leg. The crowd gasped at it all.

At the last moment, Lin'cy dove forward and grabbed the boy. Red flower petals flew off his hair as they tumbled to the side. There was a yell of adulation as the beast was brought to bear. Kelton had to look away when the creature simulated taking its toll. The memory of claws and fangs was still too ripe.

Other warriors came running, the part of the story Kelton knew nothing about. Men and women, each wearing the twin-tails, threw off the beast and hoisted Lin'cy high. They broke out in song as they marched faux Kelton around the fire. The crowd, elders included, joined in the verse.

"It is a heroes song," Opul whispered. "It speaks of one who sees the tribe as more important than themselves. Old before young - cherish the years that come." She leaned in closer. "You saved a little one at the expense of your own time. To the Nagada, the years traded are of the highest profit."

"I did not die," Kelton said. Nothing was traded except his strength.

"Are you sure?" Opul said. "All thought so. Your story was written, and now it is spoken. And will be again."

Kelton watched as Lin'cy was laid upon a straw mat that miraculously appeared from behind other spectators. There was no single storyteller, no Gossamer. It was a tribe-tell. The idea amazed Kelton. He had seen dual-tellers before, but never as many tellers as were now active. The coordination was a feat in and of itself.

"This is my part," Opul said. She rose and walked toward the mat, hurried by the warriors who had carried Lin'cy. Her display was exaggerated as she examined Lin'cy's body. Words of woe that needed no translation escaped her lips as she buried her head in her hands. She rose and looked up at the sky, shaking her head in defeat.

Opul returned to her seat as five little ones, as small as My'taa, left theirs. One carried a rope laced with yellow petals. They created a circle around Lin'cy and passed the end of the rope around until they formed a loop. Holding the line above their heads, they circled the body calling out a melodic, unchanging chant. Kelton had to smile. It was an ingenious way to represent the dreamvine.

The elders left their seats, all but Unyvon'ar. They circled Lin'cy, then ducked under the yellow rope. Unyvon'ar stood and spoke loudly.

"To be Nagada is to know sacrifice," Opul translated. "Thus, great sacrifice is to be Nagada." The other elders began to mark Lin'cy, though it was simulated since he already was marked well beyond most others. They moved outside of the circle as Farni's doppelganger moved in and spoke.

"She declares her bond with you," Opul said. There was some brief simulated care, then the faux Farni spoke again. "Fire-head is a warrior and will face any beast. I will have him standing or buried. In between is not for him, not the beast killer." Opul leaned closer and whispered. "Those are actual words, not changed like others."

Kelton looked past Opul at Farni. It was she who forced him awake to face the vine. Her eyes met his, and she smiled. The vine's curse was still loud in his mind, all the pains, all the suffering. Yet, he lived through it. A warrior, she thought. He smiled back. She thought him better than his mind would allow.

Faux Farni reached out and broke the yellow rope, which sent the little ones running back to their seats. Lin'cy rose to his knees and bellowed out an awful groan. His fists thrust toward the sky and shook their anger. Then, he collapsed. A quick simulation of breaking the vine. Kelton knew it failed to do justice to the real thing.

Farni, the copy of her, helped Lin'cy to his feet. He smiled, and the crowd erupted in a chorus of yells that warbled their throats. All the spectators found their feet and began stamping the ground in unison. As if by design, a gentle rain began to fall, and it was ignored by all.

The true Farni helped Kelton to his feet as the pounding continued. She said something and added a smile to relay her pleasure about it. "This is your part," Opul translated. Confused, Kelton was led to the center of the circle, near the rain-smoldering fire, where most of the telling took place.

Lin'cy was waiting with red-petaled hair and a smile on his face. He gave a slight bow of his head to Kelton. An instance of embarrassed anger passed through Kelton to be replaced by the realization it was all done as an honor, humor included. He decided it was best to accept the praise and play along. Stopping, he lifted his nose in the air and fluffed his wild locks with the palms of his hands. Loud laughter followed.

"Well done," Opul whispered. Kelton retook Farni's arm, unable to trust his balance.

Lin'cy touched his forehead to Kelton's and spoke a few words. "The tribe will not forget," Opul translated.

Farni turned Kelton to face the elders. Unyvon'ar stepped forward with a spear and handed it to Farni. The foot pounding stopped as he spoke of the beast and My'taa; at least that was the limit of what Kelton understood. Opul leaned in and said. "Farni is being honored for standing between the beast and My'taa. Her broken spear has been replaced by one constructed by the elders. They wait for her to claim the twin-tails, for they know the heart of a Nagada warrior beats in her chest."

The tribe agreed with the words and yelled their form of a warbling cheer. Farni was all smiles as the elders, one at a time, pressed their foreheads to hers. Each whispered words to Farni that Kelton could only guess at. Opul either hadn't heard them or deemed them private.

"There was an elder spear for you, fire-head," Opul translated Unyvon'ar's words. "It would seem others saw the All-Father's desire before us." His hand pointed to the side.

My'taa approached, holding a spear. The stone tip's binding wrapped in black fur. My'taa was all smiles as she handed it to Kelton. He gave his thanks in Nagada and returned her smile. My'taa spoke, and Kelton understood only the word vic'aven.

"It is wrapped in the skin of the beast so that all other beasts will flee before you," Opul said. Kelton examined the fur wrapping. It was only three-fingers wide, yet appeared prominent, like the feathers the elders wore. He placed the butt end of the spear on the ground and let go of Farni. It could hold him steady.

"It is a well-done spear," Kelton said. "For now, it is my strength, and may the vic'aven be wary of all Nagadan spears." Opul translated, and the gathered crowd voiced their appreciation. Kelton thought it done, yet no one moved to leave. He found himself uncomfortable as the center of attention. At least he had the spear so he could hold himself upright.

"Farni will teach you the ways of the Waitland," Opul continued after Unyvon'ar began speaking again. "When your strength returns, twin-tails will be offered. It is the way of all Nagada warriors." Kelton was taken by surprise and looked at Lin'cy, who had once refused his request. All he saw was smiles and nods. "You are seen as Nagada now," Opul clarified.

"I can not stay," Kelton said, with some disappointment. "There are many who think me dead, and I do not wish them that. And house Tarvakian, it will need..."

"You are not fit to travel," Opul interrupted. Kelton could hear some anger in her response. The offer was not given lightly, and it was probably an insult to deny it. "And even if you were, the waters are too high and fast. It will be many months before they dry to a trickle again." The falling rain punctuated her words. It was not the season for travel in the Waitland.

"But, I must leave someday," Kelton said. Opul conferred with Unyvon'ar, who, in turn, consulted with the other elders.

"You are not born right, so you are not committed to the Waitland," Opul translated the response. "They will not hold you here, though the offer of the twin-tails still stands. They believe you are touched by the All-Father, and see you as an...emissary of sorts." She chuckled. "They say it is a good thing to have a Nagada moving about correcting the wrongs of the world. Mayhap, when the treewalker comes, there will be no work for them to do."

"I will endeavor to be worthy," Kelton said, accepting the offer. He meant it as well. The Nagada had some strange views, but unlike other kingdoms, happiness of all was a measure of success. Kelton was tired of happiness for a few. The world needed to share its laughter.

Like Farni, all of the elders touched their foreheads to Kelton's. Each with a statement that Opul didn't translate, though she indicated she would later. They included much of the same words given Farni, though each deviated some. It was apparent the recognition was important to the Nagada, so Kelton endured the ritual without complaint.

Solid food, and the strength it provided, was finally tolerated by Kelton's stomach. It had been three days since he had received his spear. One day since his balance had been restored to its pre-vic'aven state. Still, tiredness came swiftly. He was hoping the return to more substantial food would soon solve that problem as well.

The rain was relentless, though it never fell in great volumes. It returned without fail in the latter half of each day. Farni had decided to progress Kelton's knowledge of the Waitland by traveling through it, now that he could walk without falling. They started by circling the village, with her pointing out flora and fauna, Kelton repeating the Nagada word, and then being taught its uses. What could and could not be eaten were the first lessons.

Farni enjoyed Kelton's sampling of the editable roots and fungi that grew in abundance. Many lacked a pleasant flavor, though Kelton was assured it could sustain life. The faces he made at each tasting were of never-ending joy to Farni. Some were like chewing on bark, and even in the pouring rain, they tended to dry out the mouth.

Kelton was tested as they walked, Farni pointing at specific vegetation and asking if it could be consumed. Many of the plants looked similar, making the distinction between good and evil complicated. After a time, he learned to discern leaf patterns, mushroom shapes, and vein coloration like a Nagada.

It was the side benefit of the training that Kelton enjoyed the most. The mysteries of the Nagada language were being exposed by the practical nature of the tasks. He found that new words were easier to comprehend when reinforced during physical applications. The nuances he would still have to gather, but things and actions were most important in the beginning. Far easier than Korvin's teachings.

Farni spoke as they neared a river that flowed between two ridges. Kelton gathered enough of her words to know she was indicating the water was a trickle in the dry times. Now, it flowed high and fast, rising violently over falling trees. She pointed into the air, her finger traveling between the canopies of two large trees, one on each side of the river. "Basson' vy ni a."

There was a rope pulled tight between the trees, a good four or five men high above the rushing water. "Basson' vy ni a," Kelton repeated. He enjoyed the smiles he received when he pronounced words correctly. It was a rope bridge that allowed the Nagada to move over the nearby bordering rivers. He was thankful she didn't want him to cross. His muscles would have mutinied, and the water looked too fast to swim.

Following the river upstream, they came to a slow swirling pool that was fed by the stream. Heavy rocks had been placed at a bend, keeping the force of the water turning away from the pool, yet some forced its way through the gaps, and, Kelton suspected, over the top during the strongest of rains.

If it weren't for Kelton's time with Yanda, he would have been shocked seeing Farni remove her clothes. She turned and pointed at him and said, "hagish." She held her nose and squinted her face when she said it. Kelton decided hagish meant smelly since he knew the word for dirty. He laughed as he removed his clothing.

Farni's body moved with purpose, sleek muscles that accentuated feminine curves. Her etchings traveled into places his mind had only imagined a moment ago. Kelton looked down at his still-healing skin and thought himself unworthy to stand next to her beauty. She took his hand and pulled him into the pool, its bottom layered in tiny pebbles. It became evident that the gully was entirely constructed and not natural in any way—a Nagada bath.