Hirodias and the others wandered through the camps, looking for a place to settle. The boy Nikomedis saw them and hopped up and down, his long brown hair flipping over his eyes as he waved them over. When they neared the boy, he leapt onto the lap of a much older, balding man with a grizzled beard on his chin and a bare upper lip. The man began to feed the boy porridge, despite the boy's excitement about the show. Hirodias approached, his large shadow covering the old man and the boy. 

"Grandpa, and then the juggler threw the apples at them!" he cried, pointing at Hirodias and his company. 

"Mother's greetings to you," the old man said, looking at the darkened figure of Hirodias with the sun on his back.  "You must be the newcomers people are talking about. A giant has visited us, I am told, though I am grateful you are but a man, not a beast as others have described.  I am Iosifus, and it looks like you have met my grandson."

"Mother's blessing," Hirodias answered.  "We are only men, though we're no stranger to being treated as beasts.”

"You have the look of slavery upon you," Iosifus sighed, shaking his head. “I have never been a slave, but I have met a few in my travels north to the Smote. But that was many years ago. These lands here are freelands, though how free we are depends on what work we can find.  Alas I am too old to find work, so I must depend on those who can work."

“So it’s just the two of you, grandfather?” Palimedis asked. “No one bothers you?”

“Those who have things to lose tend to get bothered here,” Iosifus said. “I have nothing to give but stories of a time and place that no longer exists. My life is too near the end to have any value.”

Hirodias sat down next to the man and patted the boy on the head with his massive hand as he ate the porridge.  "Grandfather, tell me what stories you know of the kings, old and new. Tell me of the heir of Hesperyon."

"Heir to the last Sunset King?" Iosifus asked.  "It is a bloodline long run dry. There are no stories worth telling. There is only sorrow.”

“Still, I’d like to hear it.”

“I knew the last heir of Hesperyon, you know,” Iosifus said. “I served him. Some of the older folk in this camp did as well. Herodotis was in line to be chieftain among our people, and I was as a map reader for the clan. Herodotis was always on the move, until the Yhgrs crossed the Kingsgate during the summer and killed his wife and took his son and daughter. It was a bloody summer. He didn't believe his family to be dead, so he abandoned the clan and searched for his two children until his own demise.”

“A son and a daughter, you say?” Andreus asked. “Herodotis had two children?”

“Twins,” Iosifus continued. “Though the daughter was born first. Since Herodotis died, no one had continued the search. The cursed Yghrs have ended the line of Hesperyon."

"You are wrong, elder," Palimedis said.  "The line of Hesperyon lives and casts a shadow over men."

"Herodotis' child was taken to a hole deep in the Smote and made to entertain the slavers and their merchant partners," Andreus said.  "He was later made to fight in the pits until the elder slaves found out who he was, and told him his true name."

“Alive?” Iosifus asked. “That was a long time ago. The boy must be thirty.”

“Thirty-one,” Hirodias smiled.  "So you knew my father."

Iosifus stared into the giant's eyes.  He held out his hand, trembling.  "You are the child…Hirodias?  It cannot be. Show me the mark.”

Hirodias brushed his long brown hair aside and revealed the mark upon his neck. 

"Long since have I seen the mark of your father's clan," Iosifus said.  "I held you once when you were a babe, when your mother needed a rest. She gave you to me for a moment while she laid down. The heir is alive.  The heir to Hesperyon is alive.”

“Elder, come home with me to the ancient forests," Hirodias said.  "We go west on the morrow.”

"Yes," Iosifus said.  "Of course. We’ve been here far too long. The children of Arkromenyon were not destined to live in fenced camps like Aredunian livestock.  Come with me now to spread the word.  There will many who will join in the pilgrimage."

Hirodias visited many campsites and shared his story.  Before nightfall he and the Gamesh boxers were praised and offered more to eat and drink than they had ever been given.  Iosifus told him that the camps hadn't seen this type of spirit in a long time.

They were offered their own tents by those families who had members gone away to work.  Hirodias shared his tent with Palimedis.

Palimedis laid on an old straw mattress barely fit for a horse, but for him it was one of the most comfortable beds he has ever laid on. “This isn’t a palace, but it’s better than sleeping in the back of a wagon. Or the corner of a horse stable. Or in a cave away from sand storms. Or on a bed of leaves in my cell back in Gamesh.”

“Any bed that is free offers the best sleep,” Hirodias said.

Hirodias set some of the gifts down that the people had given him. Some dried fruits, small bags of grain, some bowls, furs, and sculptures. He looked at a deer skin belt that had symbols he didn’t recognize.

“You know, he really does like it here,” Palimedis said. 

“You speak of Symian. He is your brother.”

“Like a younger brother,” Palimedis said. “I’ve taken care of him most of his life. Just as Andreus had taken care of me, though I think he’s often too careful.”

“Careful is what keep you alive,” Hirodias said in a low voice. “Careful is what we will have to be from now on.”

“Symian just wants a home.”

“And we shall give him one.” Hirodias blew out the candle in the tent and closed his eyes to the sound of quiet laughter from the tents around him. 

Later that night there was a light rapping against their tent. A voice cleared it’s throat. “It’s me, the juggler that gave you apples earlier today.”

“What are you doing here?” Palimedis asked. “It’s late.”

“I came to see if you wanted to see a trick,” he said.

"Tomorrow is a long day," Hirodias yawned.  "The trick will have to wait, Jester."

"You'll want to see this one," he said. “Come with me."

Hirodias and Palimedis looked at each other, then followed Jester out of the tent and through the camps. Most of the tents were dark, and the nearly full moon lit the sky. Jester led them to the Prayer Tree and then to the big hole in the ground.  Jester laid flat on his belly at the edge of the hole, motioning for the two to do the same.  Hirodias peered at the chieftain's hut, which was lit. 

"Do you remember the puppeteer?" Jester asked.  "He's in there with Hefaistas right now, along with her two guards.  What do you think they're talking about?"

“You brought us here to ask us what we think they’re talking about?” Palimedis asked.

“Humor me.”

“The puppeteer is a Yghr, that we know,” Hirodias said.

"Yes," Jester replied.  "They're talking about the caravan tomorrow.  They're planning to have the largest caravan they've ever put together for tomorrow."

"And how do you know that?” Palimedis asked. 

"Oh, I listened in."

"You could not have approached Hefaistas' hut without her guards seeing you descend the steps,” Hirodias said. “It was among the first things I noticed.”

"I didn't descend the steps," Jester said.  "I took a different path down. I climbed from the tree, down its roots, and with a bit of rope I got to the top of her hut where I heard everything. She finds work for the folk in these camps, right? And about twice a month there’s a caravan that comes to take them to work. Where do they go? No one really knows, but wherever it is, they are never heard from again. They are said to send part of their wages to their families, which comes directly to Hefaistas and she distributes the wages to the families."

"Where do you think this work is, that they do not return from?" Palimedis asked. 

"There is no work," Jester said. “This is a slave caravan.  The Yghr puppeteer is a slaver, and Hefaistas aids him.  She sells the slaves for coin, then she sets a bit aside to claim it’s from the wages the workers send back. It’s a ruse to show the families that there is work resulting in wages.”

"That is how she gets the common folk to continue to believe the story," Hirodias said.

"But you work with the Yghr," Palimedis said to the juggler.  "Why betray him?"

"I don’t work with him. I came seeking work just like any honest folk here,” Jester said. “My talents led me to performing.  Stay long enough and you make friends.  When they disappear, you'll too start to wonder why. So in the two months since I’ve been here, I’ve spied on Hefaistas. Tomorrow there will be another caravan. You four, plus all the people you’ve convinced to join you, will be in that caravan.”

“The only thing we have is trust,” Hirodias said, remembering the driver’s words. “If we are not careful in whom we trust, we may find ourselves alone, bound, and back to where we came from.”

“It's a simple answer to this then, isn't it?" Palimedis said.  "We go down there and drown every one of them in the pond."

"Tell me more about the slaver caravan,” Hirodias said. 

"It comes down from the north," Jester said. "There are usually several Yghr guards that come with it.  They speak to Hefaistas first, then load up the new workers.  Didn’t I promise to show you a trick? The Yghrs are preparing to perform their biggest trick yet tomorrow.”

Palimedis spat.  "An Arkromenyon slaver.  There cannot be anything lower.  Let's go down there and be done with it."

"No," Hirodias said.  “I have seen enough.  Let us go back to the camp. I will take my chances with the caravan. We will need to sleep for our journey tomorrow.”

“Are you sure about this?” Jester asked. 

“It was knowledge that Urias used against the serpent priest,” Hirodias said, getting up and heading back to the camp.