I woke up again shortly after sunrise to find the fire was already built. Steam rose from a small pot suspended over it. I stretched out the usual kinks before I got to my feet, and then turned toward the river for my morning bath. What I saw then I never forgot.

Alongside the river veiled by the morning mist, Kit was poised in the midst of some kind of slow, solemn dance. He wore just his loincloth and I could see every detail of his body. Bare-chested he could never be mistaken for a boy. He was slender, yes, but also sinewy and without an ounce of spare flesh concealing the powerful muscle that was now gently flexing in a lithe poem of motion. A graceful curve of arm or an achingly slow turn reminded me of gentle spring breezes through an elm wood and the ruffled grass of a meadow. Without prelude came a sudden swift movement like lightning, a punch so fast the air almost cracked before his fist. Then continuing with the same slow, measured beat as before; now a kick high above his head yet in perfect balance, all to a form and timing I could only call musical. His eyes were wide open but unfocused as if he was looking into the far distance, and his face was perfectly impassive.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

About a quarter of an hour later he planted both feet and brought his arms to his sides and was still. I blinked and realized I’d been staring with a gaping mouth and that my own unclothed state displayed a reaction that would be better covered up. I turned away and pulled on my tunic before he came near.

Kit was still wet from having been in the river. His hair was only tied back at the nape of his neck. and without the braid it flowed down past his thighs almost to his knees. With his grin and a sparkle in his eyes, he showed no sign of the night’s distress.

“Good morning, Tam!” Shortening names like that must be a habit of his. Unfortunately, I was no more alert than I usually was first thing in the morning, and I found myself staring at him again. After that all my attention was taken up by trying not to, so I couldn’t think of anything to say back.

“Are you all right?”

I pulled myself together enough to make an excuse. “Yeah. I’m just never very awake before I get into the water. Didn’t want to get in your way before...”

“Hey, don’t let me stop you.” He sniffed in my direction. “Seriously. Don’t.”

He took the wadded up blanket I flung at his face in good humor. While he was distracted I threw off my tunic and hurried to the river. The cool water helped me bring myself under control. By the time I was finished he had braided his hair, none too carefully from the looks of it. While I dried off and dressed he tended the pot, in which he was making a porridge with some of the barley and dried fruit I kept in the cave. He still hadn’t put his own clothes on. I tried not to pay too much attention to him, which wasn’t easy because he kept looking me up and down. Then his eyes widened.

“I get it now!” he exclaimed.

“What?”

“Why I threw you wrong yesterday. You’re top-heavy. Last time I did that with someone as tall as you, he wasn’t so broad in the shoulders. His butt was bigger too.” He sprang to his feet. “Come on, I want to try something.”

“Um...”

“It won’t hurt, I promise. I’ll do it right this time, and you’ve got all this nice soft ground to land on. Just come at me like you did yesterday.”

I reluctantly did as he asked, but for my first go at him he stepped out of the way. “Come on, do it like you mean it.”

“Suppose I hit you?”

“You won’t. Be pissed off, just like before.” I still hesitated. “Pickles!” he cried.

That did it. I dashed for him, hands out to grab him. There was light touch on my arm and thigh again, but instead of hitting my head I went through a complete spin and landed on my butt a dozen feet away, sliding a foot or two along the ground. He was instantly there offering me a hand up.

“Thanks! That was very instructive. Are you all right?”

“Except for the grit in my underwear. Does ‘instructive’ alway involve dangerous violence?”

“So far, yes!” He sounded positively happy about it. What a weird kid.

By then the porridge was ready. As we started in on it I asked, “So where are you headed?”

“Nowhere in particular, so I’m in no hurry to get there. I’ve been on the road for a couple of months now and I’ve been thinking it would be nice to stop for a while. Would you mind some company?”

My better judgment told me I should say I did, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

● ● ●

A few days later we were in the road waiting for travelers. I was waiting, anyway. Kit saw no reason to give me any real help collecting, and took to scampering around in the trees like a squirrel when felt like some activity. He was very agile and fun to watch, but I’d have rather had someone to back me. One of my regulars, Sherrol of Thorpe, gave me a lot of grief before paying up. As he continued on his way, his laden pack mule in tow, Kit dropped down beside me. I glared at him.

“Thanks for all the help.”

“You didn’t need any. But he had a point, you know.”

“Yeah?”

He sat down on a stump. “Look, no one just sets himself up along a road and grabs money from whoever comes by. Not if he’s honest. That really is little more than stealing.”

“I’m cheaper than the baron who’s taken over the imperial road across the moor. That’s why they come this way at all.”

“Yeah, but does something for the money, doesn’t he? If you’re collecting tolls for passage on a road, it’s because you’re taking some kind of responsibility for it. Either you built it, or you’re keeping it up, or you’re guaranteeing safe passage. In Lipak we did all three. The baron didn’t build his road of course, but from what I saw―before I came by this way for the same reason fatso there did―he keeps it up pretty well. I bet he deals with bandits too. What do you do for the money?”

I fumed, “Do you want me to start paving?”

He smiled at that. “No, somehow I can’t see it.”

“So I give them ‘safe passage?’”

“It does seem the thing to do.”

I had an uncomfortable feeling that he was right. There was a nag or two from my own conscience in that direction. But how often did I have to worry about bandits? I’d been here for a year, and I had yet to even hear of one. “All right then. I’ll do it.”

“Then I’ll help.” He looked me straight in the eye. “But if it ever comes to the point, I’ll hold you to it.”

● ● ●

Kitaro wound up doing most of the cooking, which was a great relief to me. Not only was it less work, but his food was so tasty that mealtimes became something to look forward to for a change. I stuck to making breakfast while he did his morning exercise, since even I could make edible porridge. Besides, having something to do was a good distraction. He had the disturbing habit of going around undressed until it was time to head out to the road.

If he were more modest I don’t think it would have made much difference. Clothed or not, I could hardly ever put his image out of my mind.

For the most part we got along great. He was almost always cheerful, and it tended to be infectious. I laughed more in a week than I had for the past year. Yet there were times when it seemed like a mask. If I approached suddenly while he was lost in thought there was often a profound sorrow written on his face until he noticed me. Then his smile would return and after a short time he’d be just as lighthearted as ever. But those night-time incidents were frequent.

Given his looks, I thought he might have trouble collecting. Even I had to put an arrow past someone’s ear once in a while to make him respect me. So it was interesting to watch him from a distance once as confronted a single traveler without escort. Like most he had a pack animal, but it looked burdened more with supplies than goods. He wasn’t very richly dressed and the hilts of the sword he wore were dull with use. I wondered if Kit would be forced to draw his. I’d never yet seen him do it.

“Private road. The toll is forty sesterces.” That was more than double what I’d have asked under the circumstances.

“Move aside, boy. You’ll get nothing from me.”

Kit stood his ground. “Sorry, but my partner would be disappointed if I let you go without paying.”

“I said move aside!” The trader made a move toward his sword.

“Do not draw!” Kit’s voice cracked out like a whip. The traveler flinched, then his shoulders slumped.

“That... That’s a high price for a track like this.” He had lost all self-assurance.

“Not too high a price to ensure the safe transport of your goods, is it?”

The money changed hands and the trader was on his way. I stepped forward. “You’re good at this. How on earth did you get him to back down so easily?”

“Like this.”

He didn’t so much as blink at me, but there was a pressure against my forehead and a sensation like I was physically shrinking. My mood, which had been buoyant, sank into depression. I felt short of breath as if I couldn’t get enough air, and my heart started pounding.

“That’s enough, I think.” The sensation vanished like it had never been there and my spirits lifted instantly.

“What in the dozen hells was that?”

“A mild qi attack.”

“‘Chi?’”

“I could explain, but we’d be here all day.”

“Try me.”

He tried, but after a quarter of an hour I was totally lost and I cut him off. “All right! It’s weird and complicated, and has something to do with your master’s philosophy, and I don’t think I need to know any more!”

I think that was the first time I saw him get a little miffed.

Just before we bedded down that night, Kit paused before laying out his bedroll and looked up at the sky. Then he started collecting up his gear. “We’ll be better off in the cave tonight.”

“What for?”

“Rain’s coming. It’ll be here about three hours before dawn.”

“Oh, come on. I hate sleeping in there, and I don’t want to do it on the off-chance we’ll get a drizzle in the morning.”

“Thunderstorm, more like.”

I took a look at the sky myself. Not a wisp of cloud obscured the stars. “Forget it,” I said, and laid myself down next to the firepit.

“Suit yourself,” said Kit, and made for the cave. I stayed where I was for a short time, until irritation got the better of me. With an exasperated growl I snatched up all my stuff and went to join him.

I woke up in the morning stiffer than usual from sleeping on rocky ground instead of a soft riverbank. There was Kit, entirely unclothed, sitting at the mouth of the cave looking out at the downpour. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Over his head I could see the river swollen in its banks. It had risen almost far enough to reach the firepit.

He heard me stirring behind him and rose, turning. It was a moment or two before his eyes came back into focus.

“When you’re right, you’re right,” I said. “How did you know this was coming?”

“I can almost always tell what the winds are bringing. I was watching just now in case there was something instructive going on. I didn’t notice anything, but it’s so beautiful I couldn’t pull myself away.”

I took another look outside. The rain obscured anything more than about a quarter mile away. “What’s there to watch?”

“The winds.”

There wasn’t any wind at all, and I said so. “Not down here, no,” said Kit. “But there’s plenty about a half mile up, blowing the clouds around. Then there’s the wind circulating inside the clouds. It’s one of the things that helps make the rain.”

The sky was a dull, solid gray, and I couldn’t see any shape to the clouds at all. “How in the dozen hells do you know that?”

“I told you. I was watching the winds.”

I looked at him dubiously. “You mean you can see wind.” He nodded. “So what does it look like?”

Kit faced the outside again and looked up for a long time before he replied. “There are no words for the colors, Tam. Endless motion, columns of heat and cold, waves of moisture and dryness contending back and forth in a battle that never ends. Or maybe a dance, because there’s never a victor but only a change in the place they join. They carry what’s needed for life to every part of the world. Or sometimes they bring death, when the fight is too violent or the dance too wild, all on a scale so huge it’s almost bigger than we can understand. There’s nothing more beautiful, or more terrible.”

He turned back towards me. He seemed to be looking at nothing around us. His gaze could have been aimed a thousand miles in the distance, and there was something like ecstasy about him. “Except for some people. Our own life and movement is driven by energy that’s so much like the wind that in some places it’s even called by the same name. When you find a person where the colors are so clear and shine out so bright you’d think a star had descended to earth to illuminate everyone around him with his spirit....”

He lifted a hand, hesitated, and then lowered it again. His eyes came back into focus and his ecstasy faded. Whether the expression that replaced it was rueful or sorrowful I couldn’t tell. He turned and went naked into the rain.

An ache grew in the center of my chest. It didn’t go away for a long time.