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he tried to sit up. It proved a bitter mistake as his head throbbed and his stomach heaved. He barely got his face over the side of the wagon before the sour contents of his stomach came up.
    Caleb slowed the horses, then halted them. By the time the wagon came to a complete stop, Tad had joined his foster brother in a painful display of morning-after distress.
    Caleb jumped and, with a rough grab, pulled Tad then Zane out of the wagon and deposited them in a heap onthe roadside. They were a portrait of misery. Both had pale complexions and perspiration dripped off their brows. Their eyes were red-rimmed and their clothing disheveled and dirty.
    â€œStand up,” said Caleb, and the two lads did so. “Follow me.”
    Without turning to see if they complied, Caleb started walking down a gentle slope dotted with trees. From the sounds behind him, he judged that the two boys were following along grudgingly.
    They reached a small gully thick with waist-high grass, and Caleb motioned for them to move ahead of him. The two miserable lads half stumbled, half walked through the grass. Zane trampled upon what was in front of him, while Tad parted the slightly waving foliage with his hands.
    One minute they were trudging along and the next, Zane vanished from sight with a loud yelp of shock. Tad only just avoided stepping off the bank, some six feet above the river. As Zane’s head appeared above the water, Tad felt Caleb’s foot on his rump, and suddenly he was propelled through the air, landing backside first in the water next to Zane.
    â€œClean yourselves up,” instructed Caleb. “You smell like the floor of a taproom.” He threw down something that landed in the shallow water between them. Zane picked it up and saw it was a bar of milled soap. “It won’t take your skin off like that stuff your mother makes, boys, but it will get you clean—hair, bodies, clothing, everything. You can carry your clothing back to the wagon.”
    Grudgingly the pair began to strip off their wet gear as Caleb watched. “Drink some water, too, while you’re at it. It’ll help get you back among the living.” He turned back toward the wagon, then shouted, “But try not to drink the soapy water.”
    Caleb returned to the wagon and waited. In less than half an hour, a pair of dripping boys appeared, nude and carrying their clothing. Caleb pointed to the cart and said, “Spread them out on the sides of the wagon and let them dry in the sun.”
    Both young men stood shivering in the cool morning. After a few minutes, Caleb pointed to a small chest nestled behind the driver’s seat and said, “You’ll find dry clothing in there.”
    As the boys dressed, Tad said, “I’ve never felt this sick from drinking before.”
    Caleb nodded. “Whiskey has a terrible hangover, no doubt.”
    â€œWhy’d you do it?” asked Zane as he pulled on a fresh tunic.
    â€œSo I wouldn’t have to beat you senseless to get you to leave Stardock.”
    As if coming out of a sleepwalk, the boys looked around. “Where are we?” asked Zane, his dark eyes narrowing. Caleb could see the anger rising.
    â€œWe’re on the road to Yar-rin, then we’ll go on to Jonril.”
    Tad’s eyes also narrowed. “Why Jonril?”
    â€œBecause your mother didn’t like what was going on with you two in Stardock, and asked me to take you somewhere that you could find trades.” He motioned for them to finish dressing. “You two have been aimless layabouts since the Choosing two years ago.”
    Zane’s eyes flashed angrily as he said, “That’s not true, Caleb!” Pulling on dry trousers, he glanced at his foster brother. “We work when we can find it.”
    â€œUnloading freight for a day or two every month is no craft,” said Caleb.
    â€œWe do more,” added Tad. “We help during the harvest, we cart freight