The next morning, the camp was abuzz with activity as Vle began to pack up for the big journey north. Hyran helped Valph strike the tent, and then even offered to carry it. Valph refused. “Nonsense. You’re my guest! It’s bad enough I’m letting you help.”
“Valph, I can’t let you carry all that yourself. I say one of us takes the tent, and the other takes the barkpot.”
“I just know I’m gonna regret this. Love your guests..., they say—”
“Well, consider this an act of love then.” Hyran was pretty proud of that one, fighting fire with fire.
It worked. “Hmm. Alright, you win. I’m not even sure you played fair, but you win. I’m still taking the tent.”
“Fine.” Hyran grabbed the barkpot, a magnificently ‘sung piece. Sometimes it seemed to Hyran that such things ought to be for higher tasks than carrying clothes... He slung the reed straps over his shoulders. “Are we going soon?”
Valph nodded up the road. “Some are already leaving. Shall we?”
“After you, my friend.”
“By the forest, you’re better at this love thing than I am!” Valph laughed, and headed north to join the march. Hyran wasn’t far behind.

They traveled somewhat slower as a large group than a single person would have, but Hyran didn’t really mind. He wasn’t in a big hurry, and the friendships he was forming were, if not lasting, at least satisfying, once they got past the syrupy sweetness.
Each evening, they stopped at a town, offered their wares, and got some sort of accomodation. Most often, it was nothing more than a part of a fallow field to pitch their tents. It was in these camps that they made their crafts as they ate, drank, and sang songs. Hyran didn’t know most of the songs, since a lot of them had come from the Human land, but despite their alien tuning, he learned them quickly.
One evening, Valph sat weaving strands of bluereed, autumnreed (yellow) and thalereed (purple) into a small bracelet while he and Hyran talked. The ex-monk watched closely, having never seen that particular weave before. “Is that a Human weave?”
“Yes, it is. Do you know how to weave?”
“No, not really, other than what I’ve had to learn. What’s that for?”
“The Humans call it a friendship bracelet. It’s something you give to someone who is your friend, and then as long as you’re both friends, you wear the bracelet constantly. We give them to people who let us stay on their field or in their inn, or give us food, as well as to anyone else who is generous to us. Then, we can sell more next time we pass through. But, of course, among us, it’s exactly what it was intended to be: A symbol of friendship.” Valph finished by tying the two ends together. “Here, friend, I would like you to have this as a token of my friendship.”
Hyran held out his hand. “Thank you, but I’ll take it only if you teach me how to make one for you.”
“Oh, really, Hyran, you don’t have to—”
“Of course I do. Beside, then you’ll have one more person making bracelets for sale.”
“Well! If you put it that way...” Valph pulled out three more reeds, a springreed (green), warningreed (red), and dullreed (grey), and proceeded to teach Hyran.
It wasn’t long before Hyran was weaving away by himself. Meanwhile, the singing had begun, and as he weaved, he joined in as best he could. The singing grew louder, and louder, as more and more joined a circle that had started with Valph and Hyran. The others were standing, of course, and they beckoned him to put down the bracelet.
So, he did, with a rock on top of it to keep it from unwinding. Then, he stood and joined the happy, singing circle. In the back of his mind, he realized that even though the rhythms and tuning were totally different, as well as the language and themes, the singing now was as much a balm to his soul as the chants at the monastery had been. Which was strange, since the songs really seemed rather unsophisticated. Or, perhaps that was just his own bias.
Soon, the group singing ended, and individuals who wanted to took turns singing favorites of theirs. Between songs, the female Vle to Hyran’s right leaned toward him a bit. “You really sing well. Have you sung since you were little?”
“No. Only since joining the monastery. Thanks for the compliment.”
“Listen, why don’t you get up and bless us with a song?”
“Well,” Hyran considered, “I could, but I only know the chants of my own religion.”
“That’s okay. They’re beautiful chants.”
“Maybe not tonight.”
“Nonsense.” More loudly, for all to hear, she said, “I think our guest, Hyran, has a song to sing for us— a chant from the monastery he once belonged to.”
Across the circle, someone stood. “Are you sure that’s appropriate, Cavien?” he asked. “No offense, but the Church of the Great Master is not known for its love. It’s an old... traditional religion, and not ours.”
Ah, a challenge. Hyran had been unsure before, but now he thought it would indeed be appropriate. He stood and faced the challenger. “No offense taken. However, the spirit of the Great Master’s Mandates is indeed love. I will sing you a chant, one which speaks of the Great Master’s redemption. I do not ask you to believe it, merely to listen. For one cannot go into the future, without some understanding of the past.”
The Vle across the circle acquiesced, and Hyran began to sing. Strangely enough, the old tuning now seemed odd to him, and he stuggled with the first few notes before he could be sure he was staying on key. It was not a special chant of any sort, just one that his ex-brothers would be singing that very moment, far away in their chapel as they dedicated the day which had just passed.
It wasn’t very long either, so the listeners were surprised when it was over. The same Vle stood again. “It sounds as though the song says Redemption is love.”
Valph then stood, as well. “Yes! It is! Don’t you see? How can you redeem someone you don’t love? Hyran, I thank you for your lesson this evening. You’re right— we have a lot to learn from our past.”
Hyran smiled, carefully picked up his bracelet and moved away. The discussion was getting much too syrupy again for his taste.