Tarvakian took in and let out a well-deserved breath when they had finally gotten the last wagon across the river. They had moved onto sparsely treed land that bordered the western side of the jungle. He was soaked from the waist down, having helped guide the horses through the deep water. It had taken more time to build up the banks than the eastern side. The finished tasked forced a smile to his lips. It had been a long time since he had labored so hard.
"You could have remained dry, sir," Borlin said.
"It is something I must get used too, Borlin," Tarvakian replied. "It is not a bad feeling, a job done well."
"Aye, sir," Borlin said, then surprised Tarvakian by bending his old copper band open and placing it around his neck.
"What is this?" Tarvakian said as he saw his other ex-property doing the same. "My word is my word. It is not retracted out of the jungle."
"Aye," Borlin said with a chuckle. He bent the band closed and looked like property again. "A ruse, sir. We have interest in you acquiring the most coin for the bolts. We thought it is best done by an owner in good standing."
"Say nothing, sir," another ex-property said as she passed. "No one will question it."
Filgot began laughing at the sight. "It is a good tactic, sir."
"Aye, it is," Tarvakian said, confusion still filling his mind. "And you thought of this?" He asked Borlin.
"Aye, though, we all agreed." Borlin smiled. "We too, must get used to things. One of them is acquiring profits."
Tarvakian scratched his head in wonder. When he first envisioned freeing his house, he thought all would run far away. Yet here, they stay and shackle themselves in a ruse to increase his coin. Their coin, he reminded himself. Maybe, profits can bind a man as well as iron.
"I would never ask any of you to do such a thing," Tarvakian said. "But I will not throw away a good plan." He patted Borlin on the shoulder. He turned to the rest of his ex-property. "If any of you have other good ideas, do not let them rot in your mind. Profits are born of such things."
~~~~~
"I wish to learn the Nagada's sword ways," Kelton said to Opul. For three days, he had been weaving and hauling water with the young ones. His knowledge of the language was growing, as was his understanding of the Nagada tribal structure. The peak of which was the warrior.
"They will not teach you or me such things," Opul said. "You must be Nagada to carry the bu'kui. No one else is allowed."
Bu'kui translated to twin-tails, the Nagada's word for the precious blades the warriors strapped to their backs. Kelton had found out that they were handed down for centuries, each holding a story that the new possessor was expected to add to. There was only one tribe, far to the north, that worked a forge to repair the blades. Beyond their smithy work, no other metal was allowed. No new blades were forged, for it was deemed by the All-Father that such a thing would incite the return to conquest.
"Will you query Lin'cy on my behalf?"
"Aye," Opul said with a sigh. "The answer will be the same, but I will try."
Lin'cy sat down crossed-legged on the ground opposite Kelton, a movement that conveyed respect, and also foreshadowed his intent to decline the request. Opul shook her head in verification of Kelton's guess. Lin'cy began to speak, and Opul translated.
"Know that we honor all those who labor for the tribe, be they young, old, or not born right." It was a reference to Kelton's foreign origins. "We see much of what we cherish in you, yet our ways do not allow such things. Mayhap, if you saw the next rains with us, we would teach the ways of the Waitland and grant you a spear. It is my regret to tell you that only the Nagada will know the twin-tails."
