Celty wanted to kick free of her bonds, push herself off the stake, and attack the tribesman in front of her until she raked off all his skin with her fingernails. But the ropes on her ankles and wrists kept her immobile. Her forehead became spotted with great drops of sweat.

One of the masked tribesman took his spear, jabbing Ranbelt with it just under his chin in an effort to silence his irritating, grating laugh.

Another tribesman continued to hold his lit torch aloft; he did not touch it to the sticks below Celty and the others. Behind him, the leader advanced, addressing Ranbelt.

"Why do you laugh in such a way, fool? You are about to die."

"Honorable Chief, I laugh because you're burning your opportunity to take back what is rightfully yours."

A pregnant pause ensued. The Chief held up a hand and said, "Nilis."

The chants and the banging drums fell silent. In the aftermath, the sound still seemed to ring through the air, pulsing through Celty's veins. What could Ranbelt possibly mean? She'd known that he wasn't a simple traveling minister – there was more to him – but what could he restore to these people?

"What do you mean?" the leader asked.

"Do you see who you are sacrificing?" Ranbelt nodded toward Isao with a quick jerk of his head. "Do you know that this is the son of Emperor Saemon VIII, and the only one who could grant you rights back to your land, your dignity, and all you once were?

“All you have to do is give him and his party their freedom, of course. It's really quite simple, isn't it?"

For the first time, Celty felt a sliver of hope – and annoyance that, yet again, Ranbelt had proved himself to be more than the way he acted. Only Isao maintained an even, unreadable expression, watching both the leader and Ranbelt with equal parts curiosity. Khalem grunted under his breath.

"Why should I trust such a wild man as yourself? These words mean nothing to me."

"Look at their weapons."

The Chief waved a hand, and two tribesmen grabbed up the duo’s weapons that lay outside the wooden cage, bearing them to the Chief. A conversation erupted in their language, between the leader and the guards.

Isao cleared his throat. "Honorable Chief," he called. "I will confirm Ranbelt's words."

Celty couldn't help but admire the confidence in his voice. The prince might be new to the battlefield, but clearly he'd been trained for diplomatic situations in the past.

The clicking and exchange of words between the leader and the tribesmen stopped. The leader turned, so that the mask seemed to gaze upon Isao now.

"I am the heir to the throne of Marugan. If you observe my blade, you'll see the sign of the Hiwan Clan there as evidence that I am who I say I am. This is my General, Khalem. And my friend, Celty."

The word friend sent a shiver down Celty. Not slave. Not servant. Friend. She'd never had a friend before.

"Why didn't you say this before?" the leader asked. A flicker of uncertainty sounded in the leader’s voice.

"I'm traveling to accomplish an extremely important task and am most certainly being pursued. In order to maintain secrecy and our ability to move without causing harm to others, I must remain quiet until I have no choice." Isao motioned to one tribesman holding a torch in front of him. "Like right now."

There was another long pause.

"What can you do for my people, Prince? You have no power here. If you are running from your home, I have doubts that you truly have any power there. If I extend mercy to you, I may be the fool. Last time we were the fools, we lost everything."

"Your concerns are valid, honorable Chief. I know the story of how you lost your forest due to greedy men who killed you and drove you out."

Isao's calmness under pressure was admirable, and Celty envied him his ability to speak without trembling or fear in his voice.

The Chief's shoulders seemed to relax slightly. Celty’s did the same.

"You're right," Isao continued. "I have no power here. But I do have power back in Marugan. I can guarantee that I will do everything I can to give back what has been wrongfully taken, and to restore your people, and yourself, to your former glory."

"Bravo!" Ranbelt cried. "Bravo young prince."

Khalem's sour expression relaxed into the most approving one Celty had observed yet.

The leader raised a hand yet again. "Kol bedi."

The four tribesmen holding the torch backed away four steps. The heat from his torch faded, and Celty breathed out a deep sigh of relief just as a trickle of sweat dripped off her forehead.

A long, tense moment passed as the leader paused, seeming to stare at the captives. "For now, I will choose to believe you. Adan tege matt nan belig."

The tribesman and guards surged forward to untie the ropes at Celty's ankles and wrists. They released Isao and Khalem as well, but didn't make a move towards Ranbelt.

Ranbelt shot Celty a wink with the eye not hidden behind his of blond hair. She scowled and stepped away. Blood oozed out on her wrists now; the untying had reopened here wounds resulting from being tied up in the stables. She longed for a cool bucket of water to plunge them into, to quelch the burning pain.

Isao took a step forward first, away from his stake. Khalem fell in behind him, to Isao’s right. His one hand twitched near his side, where his sword normally would be hanging. Celty stepped up into a spot behind both men.

"You are safe for now," the leader declared. "But the one-eyed vagabond can stay tied there for now."

Isao looked to Ranbelt as he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth.

"No, Prince," Khalem murmured. "You cannot save everyone."

“But – ” Isao began.

“My decision is final,” the Chief said. “He will burn.”

“No! Why will you release us and not him?” Isao pressed.

“Because it is my decision to make.”

“Go, Prince, leave, ” Ranbelt said, jerking his head toward the bars. “Don’t worry about me. My luck is always strong.”

"I will pay for him,” Isao said, turning back to the Chief. “I will take responsibility for him as my servant.”

“No.”

The leader began to walk, directing them back into the caves. “Chief, please listen to reason.”

“I said my word is final,” the Chief barked, whirling around to face Isao again. The mask’s face seemed to glow, great and terrible.

Isao recoiled.

“Sheng!” Khalem muttered. “Don’t kill all of us because of a merciful impulse.”

Isao glanced to Celty. She nodded her agreement, all the while wanting to whack him in the back of his head and tell him not to be stupid.

The Chief spun around, walking again. Isao glanced at Ranbelt grinning from the stake.

Celty felt a sudden rise of uncertainty: Should they really leave him? It did seem wrong. Such a horrid fate. Then again, what could they do?

Khalem tugged Isao’s arm. “Come, Prince.”

Isao hesitated another moment, holding his ground.

“Prince!” the general barked.

Reluctantly, Isao moved forward, shuffling his feet. Khalem pushed him on, no doubt to make sure Isao didn’t double back.

Celty hesitated, sending one last glance over her shoulder at Ranbelt. His lips had turned down and his brow was furrowed, giving rise to a mournful expression. He caught her gaze and grinned at her with a full-lipped smile.

One of the tribesmen prodded Celty in the arm and she stumbled back into line.

* * *

"He cannot come?" Isao again asked the leader, his voice ringing through the cave corridor as they swept down the darkened hall, now unencumbered by ropes. "What crime has Ranbelt wrought against your people?"

"None," the leader said, the thin figure moving through the dark space with unusual ease.

Celty carefully picked her way along the path, not having adjusted to the darkness.

"Then I must beg you to release him and spare his life. Consider it part of our agreement."

"Why would you work so hard to save him when you have your own freedom?"

"He helped save our lives. And if he is innocent, then he shouldn't die just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am a leader. My job is to save lives, not see them taken. I ask this of you from a diplomatic standpoint."

While walking, Celty listened to the two of them, attempting to intuit whether this leader was a bad person. She derived no horrible sensations or gut reaction about the Chief. Still, if Isao kept pushing, she thought, the Chief might decide not to let them live.

Fortunately, silence ensued as they continued on through the cave system. Celty glanced at the Prince; clearly he was stewing on the matter; his brow was heavy. Every now and then he opened his mouth as if to speak, before he quickly closed it again.

Celty thought of Ranbelt with a shiver – one of gratitude, one of dread. At least she wasn’t burning.

There was a break in the walls off to the left. The tribesmen walked into it, carrying torches that illuminated the path as they changed direction.

The group stepped into another open space ringed with lit torches and simple decorations. An animal skin decorated with drawings stretched across one wall. A small bed stuffed with dried grasses sat in one corner.

The Chief turned around in the middle of the room, reached for the bottom of the mask, and pulled it off.

Isao and Khalem gasped. Celty stared, speechless.

A beautiful woman no older than thirty had revealed herself. She boasted violet eyes and ebony hair streaked with red highlights.

""Greetings, Chief," Isao murmured, inclining his head. “Thank you for revealing yourself to us."

Celty's heart beat faster. She'd never met another person who looked so much like her. But it was the woman’s eyes – her distinctly violet eyes –that really grabbed Celty's attention.

The two women stared at each other for an eternity, wrapped in the intensity of the moment.

"Svagat sahod," the woman murmured to Celty, never breaking eye contact.

The words weren't Saman, and they weren't the guttural clickings of the tribesmen. They were in some different language – one Celty didn’t know. But they stirred something hot within Celty’s chest, and warmed her heart. There was . . . something familiar in those words.

For just an instant her mind flashed back to a faint memory. From before she was a slave perhaps? Just as quickly, it faded away.

"My name is Rhaeneis," the woman said, turning back to face Isao. "I detect a rare purity in your soul, and that means I want to trust you. I feel that you will keep your promise to me – one day. Though perhaps it may not be possible right now."

There was the sound of approaching feet and a low whistling. Celty whirled around, a gasp on her lips.

Ranbelt.

"Hullo!" he called, waving his fingers. "Guess my lucky start hasn't abandoned me, has it?"

"Ranbelt!" Isao cried, his eyes lighting up. "But . . . you’re alive!"

“Thanks to you, Prince,” Ranbelt sang, accompanied by a nod of his head.

Isao turned to Rhaeneis with questions in his eyes. A thousand questions rushed to Celty's lips, but she held these back. Isao navigated the diplomatic and royal world with ease and talent, and it made no sense to interrupt his impressive skills.

Before Isao could get a question out, Rhaeneis explained, "It was a test. I had no intention of burning him after I learned your identity. Your care and concern for a stranger – particularly one such as him – means that you are pure in heart and likely a leader I can trust. An honorable soul never leaves his allies behind. For this reason, Prince Isao, I have decided to help you."

Khalem clapped a hand on Isao's shoulders and squeezed.

Isao bowed his head. "Thank you, Chief, for your trust. You have my deepest appreciation.”

"There is an easier pass through Shonin, one that will be far safer for you to take. We will allow you to pass through it. I will have two of my guards take you to ensure your safe passage."

Two more guards stepped into the room, holding Ranbelt's mandolin and hunting knife, Isao and Khalem's weapons, and a leather bag.

The former captives accepted their belongings as one guard gave the unfamiliar bag to Celty. She slipped it open to find pouches of fresh water, dried meat, and a few pouches of leafy greens. Two lengths of rope and leather strips, no doubt meant to be bandages, were at the bottom.

"Food," Rhaeneis said, meeting her gaze. "Not much of it, as we have little to give, but it will help. And provisions. Enough to get the four of you through the worst of the mountains. I wish you the greatest luck on your journey. May you complete it swiftly, then return home to restore us to honor."

Isao bowed before the Chief and knelt down. Celty sucked in a sharp breath. Prince Isao –soon to be Emperor of the entire empire – kneeling before a wild tribeswoman?

"Rhaeneis, your generosity is most appreciated."

Rhaeneis nodded once, studying him with approving eyes. "I see you give me respect, Isao, and I give it to you in return. May we work together for the betterment of all our peoples."

While Isao stood and the small group prepared to leave, Celty gazed on Rhaeneis. An urge to talk to her – to question her relentlessly – poured through Celty. Why did they have eyes of the same color? The same streaks of red in their dark hair? Such things couldn't be an accident. They never were.

"I know your questions," Rhaeneis declared. "I know what you desire. You will find your answers on the island of Mahel. Seek them in the western archipelago, called Samudra. Although I'm not sure you can handle the truth, it's there, if you desire to find it."

These words confused Celty.

Just because the two of them looked alike…did that mean anything? Were they from the same place? Were they family? Or was it just some strange, cosmic accident?

But, no. The woman wouldn't tell her where to find her answers if their similarity in appearance was a fluke, would she?

And why wouldn't Celty be ready to handle the truth, whatever that might be?

Celty shook all her confusion and doubts aside. If she could find clues about where she came from, she'd do it at all cost. Not knowing had to be more difficult than discovering the truth.

"My tribesmen will take you on the other side on the safer path," Rhaeneis said, walking with them to the door of her chambers. "May luck guide you on your way."

* * *

They traversed the new mountain pass with ease, thanks to Rhaeneis's tribesmen, who guided them carefully all the way to the other side.

Once they arrived on the other side, the tribesmen lifted their arms in farewell before turning to scramble back up and through the rocks in silence.

Ranbelt, though whistling, hadn't said much on the journey so far. None of them had.

"So," Ranbelt asked, biting off a dried piece of meat now. "Where are you going?"

"To the southeast," Isao said, glancing off the top off a rock outcropping to the smaller hills that rippled outward from the mountains. The sun bounced off the distant hills, bathing them in a warm yellow glow. "We want to reach the Isan nation."

"Near the capital?"

"Havin, yes."

"Why are you going there?"

Isao hesitated. Celty held her breath.

Khalem frowned. "That is not important."

Ranbelt lifted his eyebrows. "Ah. I see. You don't want to tell me all the details of what is happening at the Imperial City. Is An Wan falling apart, then? Why else would a Prince and his General travel alone in wild lands such as these?"

"No," Khalem said. "I don't wish to tell you."

"Khalem," Isao started, "I – "

"My young Sheng," Khalem interrupted, "I know you like many people, but we cannot trust everyone we meet. The world is filled with masks. Very few people reveal who they truly are. We cannot trust them when our mission has such great purpose. We must move forward of our own accord."

"Your General speaks about life," Ranbelt said, unusually serious. "He sees it in black or white. But look around you, Prince. How many colors do you see?"

Khalem glowered at him, but Ranbelt just grinned back at him.

"Many," Isao murmured.

"Precisely,” Ranbelt responded. “Life is full of color. It abounds with shadows and hues and tones. Everyone has different shades to their personalities, and it's what makes us so different. Imagine if we only lived in black and white – but actually, we couldn't. Even then we would see shades of gray everywhere. Life is a colorful prism. You should want to see as many colors as you possibly can."

"Then how do you describe liars?" Celty asked, sending a sharp gaze at Ranbelt. "What about them? You accuse General Khalem of seeing in black and white, as if you are so pure yourself. I think liars are simply afraid. They're scared of something."

"Maybe an ugly truth," Ranbelt said. "One they don't want to reveal."

"Weak," she hissed. "If one can't face the truth, one can't face many things."

"Maybe they're just clever, knowing which truths to hold and which to betray, tiger girl."

"So you admit to being a liar?" Khalem asked.

"Cunningness is different than lying, unsmiling man. Would you be alive without my fast mind?"

Khalem pressed his lips into a thin line, and said nothing.

"That's what I thought you'd say," Ranbelt drawled. "And who are you to call me a liar? You who lied about his son and his – " His eyes flickered over to Celty. "Servant girl. By your plan, all of you would have died. I am the one who saved you."

"Stop it!" Isao commanded. "Khalem, I trust Ranbelt. He has indeed saved our lives. Perhaps the lives of many in that tribe as well. He will accompany us to Isan if he desires. And with my approval."

"Thank you, my Prince," Ranbelt said, inclining his head slightly. "Your wisdom will surely illuminate our path."

Khalem turned away, swallowing. Celty wondered if the defeat tasted bitter to him, Having to obey the young Prince without further question.

"And of course I will come with you!" Ranbelt sang, waving a hand in the air. "There are many more job opportunities for a minstrel in a big city like Havin. As such, I would suggest a quick shortcut."

"Oh?" Isao asked.

"If we cross the Okuna Glade, we'll find a clearing with free shelters. Hunters move around there often and leave them behind. We could camp there and rest."

"I don't like it," Khalem muttered grumpily. "But I admit you saved our lives and know this land better than we do. I am willing if the Prince is."

They continued on the path, only Ranbelt slipped to the front of their line, bellowing out a story about a wondering dog and a lost little boy he befriended. Despite his booming voice and somewhat wild personality, Celty enjoyed the distraction his stories created.

The air temperature grew warmer as the wound their way down the mountainside, and into the fertile valleys.

When a stretch of quiet had permeated the group for several minutes, Celty called to Ranbelt, "The Chief called you ‘One-Eyed.’ Why did she do that?"

Ranbelt whipped around, drawing his lock of hair back away from his eye. A scarred, misshapen lump sat beneath it. He opened the eye, revealing a milky substance beneath.

"Blind," he said, springing ahead on the trail with strange, yet graceful, movements. "I only use one eye."

"How did that happen?" Isao asked.

"It's a long story."

Ranbelt offered no more, and Celty did not ask.

By late afternoon, the sun sank toward the far horizon, and the temperature began to drop. An abundant array of trees sprawled out before the group, thick with green boughs and soft grasses. Ranbelt stopped near the edge of his glad, spreading his arms.

"The Glade of Okuna," he said. "Beautiful, isn't she? So lush."

Isao and Khalem both stopped to drink in the picturesque sight. Celty kept her eyes trained on Ranbelt, who wrinkled his brow. A troubled expression flashed across his eyes, leading into a quick frown. He glanced behind them, far up the mountain from where they'd come, then caught Celty's gaze. A smile appeared on his face instantly.

"Come! Let's go find some shelter."

Within ten minutes, they'd found a rickety wooden shelter tucked far into the glade, away from the prying eyes any who might come in off the mountain, although Celty suspected that few people would venture this way, as they had. Still, she felt safer without the eyes of others upon them.

"Water," Khalem said, overturning his empty water pouch. "We need to refill."

Celty tilted her head back, and drew in a deep breath of air. She pointed to the west. "Try that way."

Khalem lifted one eyebrow, but listened to her. He moved quietly through the thick undergrowth with several of their empty water pouches in hand. When he returned, they were full. He eyed her, but said nothing.

"Thank you, Khalem," Isao murmured, accepting a pouch. "This will be very refreshing."

Ranbelt, who also had disappeared, returned with three dead hares in his hand. He held them by their ears. "Dinner!"

Celty's stomach growled; she was ravenous due to the long trek. She leapt to her feet, ducking back into the shelter to clear a circle. "I will start the fire."

That evening, a fire crackled as fat dripped off one of the skinned hares and sizzled on the logs below. Celty's stomach was full of meat, and Ranbelt sang softly now. They'd already eaten all the greens and dried meat given to the group by the Chief, and each greedily ate their next portion of meat as soon as it finished cooking.

Celty, satiated at last, fell into thought while staring at the fire. She thought of Rhaeneis’s eyes and hair. Those words that she murmured that seemed to have set fire to Celty's chest like a hot coal. All the questions she suppressed during the walk came rising back into her mind.

Who was she? What would be in the archipelago? Where there others like her? Did she have a family after all?

She allowed herself a luxury– imagining these things could be. She thought of meeting other women like her. Being accepted. Knowing who she was, and why she had been made a slave. Something peaceful settled into her chest.

"Have you ever heard of Mahel Island?" Ranbelt asked her.

Celty jerked back into the present with a shake of her head. "What?"

"Mahel Island. The one Rhaeneis spoke of."

"No."

He waved a hand. "I've heard something of it in all my many travels. Mostly vague information."

"Tell me what you know."

"It's an ancient island, I believe. Somewhere in the far west. They say it's inhabited by monstrous creatures. Terrifying ones, really. Sea serpents. Sea worms. Monsters on both land and sea." He shuddered. "Frightening."

She scowled. "I need some air."

She left the shelter, stepping into the trees. Fresh air cooled her cheeks, smelling like honeysuckle and water. She closed her eyes, pulling in a deep breath. She thought of Rhaeneis. Of Isao. The Imperial City on fire.

She thought of Goro and Jin, of the life she left behind. The freedom of the wild world.

She thought of monsters. Islands. Women just like her.

For a moment, she thought she felt the beat of a drum in her chest again.

Celty strode inside the shelter, and announced, "Tomorrow, I'm leaving the group. I'm going back to where I belong."