They cobbled together a light meal of sandwiches and crackers with a small carafe of juice and pulled the box of model parts into the sitting room. They worked on models and chatted while they ate.

Zayn started to nod off, so Vael urged him to stretch out on the low sofa. He smiled when the model he was working on fell from his hand to the floor. Vael packed up all the pieces and pushed the box against the wall beside the small fireplace.

He stood and gently lifted Zayn, carrying the sleeping Steader to his room, and laid him on the bed. Vael stood over him a moment with a smile, bemused by how quickly Zayn befriended him.

Zayn wasn't lean but had real muscle in his arms and legs. His dark auburn hair hung to his shoulders, and he kept most of it pulled back into a neat braid. High cheekbones lightly dusted with freckles framed a straight, narrow nose and his chin came to a slight point. Thick, wing-like brows rode over large pale green eyes that never seemed to lose their sparkle.

Vael thought his friend was a fine-looking young man, and what skin he could see was lightly tanned, but not dark enough to hide those freckles.

He never had a friend his own age before.

Vael found he was delighted to have one now.

***

Zayn stretched and opened his eyes, smiling sleepily at the ceiling until he realized he was not at the Manor.

He sat up quickly, wondering how long it would be before the Guard came looking for him. The Matron's attention rarely turned to him, but she occasionally kept tabs on where he slept.

Zayn pushed up from the bed, feeling a bit bedraggled from sleeping in his clothes. He peered out of his curtain and heard movement in the kitchen. He wandered down the short hall to find Vael singing and washing up the dishes they used the night before.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Zayn protested as Vael put the last mug in the rack to dry.

"We always clean up our mess on the rig," Vael explained, pouring the water down the sink. "You were sleepin' so I didn't wanna wake ya."

"Well, I should have gone back to the Manor last night," Zayn confessed. "The Matron will be sending the Guard after me at some point."

"Until then," Vael dried his hands on a towel and hung it neatly across the sink, "I need to make a Market run. I was gonna go while you slept, but I reckon I'd enjoy it much more with your company."

Zayn's face lit up with a smile so big that Vael chuckled.

"Let me change and we can be on our way."

Vael nodded and Zayn dashed to his room.

"We'll stop by the locksmith to get you a key," Zayn called as he hastily tore off his wrinkled clothes in the bathroom and splashed water on his face.

"We can look for parts for your models, too," Vael called back. "By the way, Boss will need to know how much you're chargin' me for rent."

Zayn pulled on a fresh shirt and stepped into clean pants. While he fastened them, he pushed his feet into a worn pair of soft leather boots. "I didn't charge you anything."

"Roamers pay their debts," Vael told him, peeking through his curtain, "if they're upstandin' and I aim to be. Besides, I'll be here for at least another three days. I imagine havin' some revenue that isn't marked by the Matron's hands would be welcome."

Zayn paused, thinking that over. "Well, yes. There have been times I wanted to buy something, and she refused to release funds for me to do so."

"Does she do this with her daughters?"

Zayn met Vael's eyes around the edge of the curtain. "No," he replied quietly, "I don't believe she does. But," he added, "Selene, doesn't mind giving me money. She's the nearest to me in age. We spend most of the year the same age, and I think she feels like an afterthought at times."

"Your models are good," Vael pointed out watching Zayne pick up a coat. "You could share them with aspiring Roamers for study."

"You think?"

"Yeah, sure," Vael insisted, stepping back so he could move into the hall.

Zayn saw he wore a hooded sleeveless long coat split from his knees down, long fingerless gloves, and a pistol in a holster on his thigh. At his waist was a knife in a leather sheath and a long slender blade was strapped across his back.

"Do Roamers always go armed?"

"Always," Vael confirmed. "Never know when a dog will get the nerve to try somethin', even in a Stead."

"Do mad dogs attack Steads?"

They stood on the small porch long enough for Zayn to lock the door.

"Usually only fresh or lone dogs," Vael said, following him down the steps. "The ones in packs are smart enough to know it's suicide. The top dog keeps them away from Steads and compounds unless they're starved or splintered."

"Splintered?"

"Yeah, top dog dead or weak," Vael went on. "Then they can't keep them away. They smell meat and come right up to the gates sometimes."

"Meat?"

Vael slanted a grim look at him as they approached the market. "People," he clarified. "To mad dogs, people are meat. Steads are teemin' with people."

Zayn shuddered, plunging into the crowd milling around the market. He noticed Vael hesitate and waited for him. He sidled off the walk and stayed close to him in the crush of bodies. Finally, they stepped up on the walkway in front of the locksmith.

"You don't like crowds?"

Vael shrugged, following him into the shop. "It's not as though we have a lot of room on the rig. You might find it tight, but we all have a place to be at a given time. These people, they're just...wanderin'."

Zayn smiled. "Yes, some of them are."

"What's the point?"

"Sometimes, you just want to be outside," Zayn explained, nodding to another shopper. "The market is a chance to see things and people from other places. There's always something new or somebody different to see."

Vael thought that over as the merchant approached Zayn with a bow.

"Your Grace, good morning!" he greeted him.

"Good morning, Keith," Zayn smiled at the little man. He was bent with age, but his eyes were sharp. "I need two copies of this key please."

"Of course, milord. I won't be a moment."

As the little man shuffled away, Zayn grinned at the arched brow the Roamer directed at him. "Well, I am the only son of the Matron."

Soon Keith returned with two shiny new keys. Zayn bought a keychain that Vael could clip on his pack and received a grin in thanks.

They went to the armorer next, and Zayn hung back while Vael threaded his way through groups of Roamers from other clans. They all gave him considering looks as he passed them with a nod.

When he reached the counter, Zayn stepped up behind him. Vael leaned on the counter, waiting for the merchant to get to him. He continued to nod at the other Roamers who nodded back, and Zayn wondered why none of them spoke to each other.

"Why just a nod?" he asked quietly as another round of nods passed between Vael and the other Roamers.

"We tend to be cliquish," Vael murmured, watching the others while he waited. "I don't understand it, but it is what it is. And they don't want anyone else to know what their specs are," he added. "Something else we don't share, which also makes no sense to me."

"You next, son?" the merchant, looking harassed, turned his attention to Vael.

"I'll need full Pilot's gear, with a few adjustments."

"Right, name?" the merchant whipped out his tablet to take down the order.

"Vael Kestryl."

Silence fell in the room and Zayn felt extremely exposed with every Roamer's eye settled upon his companion. Vael seemed to take no notice.

The merchant nodded. "Looks like I got an order for you already. Placed by your boss last night."

"Lemme see the specs?"

"You got advanced Pilot with some battle, and ginny specs," he scrolled through. "Here it is." He passed the tablet across the counter and Vael looked through, scrolling up and down the list.

"Let's add," Vael tapped the tablet, "intermediate gunner and advanced ginny specs with intermediate hand-to-hand. I'll take basic medic specs as well."

"That's gonna more than double your cost. Boss Kestryl paid for the Pilot and basic specs."

Vael nodded, keying in more information before passing the tablet back across the counter. "Put the excess on my account."

The merchant blinked, nodding slowly, and fiddled with the tablet.

"Betta' check them numbers twice, Andy. What ya gonna do with that gear, boy? Give it to ya Pa?" a watching Roamer rumbled.

"It's for me," Vael replied, barely sparing a glance for the man.

"You!" The man laughed loud, and Zayn noticed people carefully clearing the space between the two. "How ya callin' yaself a Pilot, boy?"

"My Boss is, actually," Vael clarified.

He still didn't move from his relaxed lean on the counter. Andy held his tablet in both hands, eyes shifting from one Roamer to the other.

"Well, I dunno how that's right," the other man grunted. "Ya ain't hardly tall enough to see the road."

Vael dismissed the man and spoke to Andy. "Can you have all that delivered to Kestryl Battle rig, bunk nine within the next two days?"

Andy nodded quickly and backed away when the other Roamer approached Vael.

"You disrespectin' me, boy," the man growled, leaning forward. "Ya gotta work on them manners."

Vael briefly graced the man with his eyes. "And you are?"

The man drew himself up, his paunch taking up much of the space between the two. "Well, that's proof you cain't be no Pilot. Errybody knows me if they anybody."

Vael arched a brow. "And...you... are?" he repeated.

The man narrowed his eyes at Vael. "Larimore. Titus Larimore, Boss of Clan Larimore."

Vael nodded once. "I am Vael, Spotter, Cook, Engineer, Gunner, and Copilot of Clan Kestryl."

"Kestryl," Larimore spat. "Them uppity slags? Come aboard my rig, boy. We'll teach ya the ropes." The man reached out to take Vael's arm.

He avoided him and resumed his pose on the counter. "Thank you," Vael said politely, "but I'm good with Kestryl. And it might vex my Boss if I got myself pinched by another Clan right after he promoted me. Quyn Kestryl may never forgive me." He gave Larimore a tight, humorless smile.

"Quyn's a good'un," another taller and slimmer man spoke up.  He leaned on a case across the room holding leather gloves. "If anybody could train a Pilot young as you, it'd be him."

Larimore turned an angry glare on the speaker.

The man met his eyes calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's the truth. Kestryl's elite, we all know it. Not a slacker in the whole clan and their rigs are fast and slick, tricked to the nines. Not a one'a us here wouldn't jump at a chance to roll with 'em even once."

"You speakin' from experience, Forde?" Larimore demanded.

Forde scoffed. "Ain't no secret. That boy is Quyn's own get. His mama, Roamed out'a RoShae, and elite as they come. That boy was born and reared on Kestryl rigs. Solid stock like that ain't no shock he's made Pilot. Hell, he could make Boss by twenty, twenty-five."

Vael stood away from the counter and sketched a shallow bow to Forde. "You honor me."

Forde bowed back. "Honor's mine. Step off, Ty. Let the kid finish his order."

Larimore lifted his lip in a snarl at Vael, but he followed Forde to the door.

"Service?" Vael called, looking around for the merchant.

Andy hustled back up to the counter with a broad smile. "Pilot, I am delighted to serve," he gushed. "I just need to get your measurements and we'll get to work on your gear. What else can I get you?"

"I'd like to look over your weapon stock," Vael said after seeming to consider a moment, "and I could use a new pack."

Zayn smothered laughter watching Andy go out of his way to serve Vael. He summoned a gang of tailors and escorted them to a fitting room big enough to be an apartment.

Vael stripped out of his long coat, boots, and sweater, wearing only his underclothes, a dark, tight long-sleeve shirt, and leggings.

He laid down all but one gun in an ankle holster and a blade strapped to the back of his thigh. Zayn noticed he stayed still under the tailor's tapes, but he did not look comfortable.

By the time they left the shop, Andy was almost singing with joy. He even promised free delivery.

"How much money do you have," Zayn asked, "and how much did you spend?"

"Pop's been paying me a wage since I started working on the rig, plus I got Mama's assets once I was official three years ago," Vael explained. "That order was probably half Andy's normal take for the day."

"The week, I'll say," Zayn shook his head. "When did you start on the rigs?"

"Around seven or eight. I was a runner, a spotter. Carried ammo to the Gunners, and the Pilots' chug and chew. Scrubbed up when we were in dock. I started learning how to fix stuff with the Ginnies. I got a lot of time on the guns and now," he turned a smile on Zayn, "I'm a Copilot."

"And you never spent any of it?"

Vael shrugged, shouldering through the crowd to claim a table at a café.

"Everything I really need is provided on the rig. I would buy little trifles and snacks, but that's about it. I don't have space for a lot of clutter, so there's no point in buying up things for the sake of having."

Vael relaxed in his chair as Zayn smiled at the server coming their way.

"Your Grace, what a pleasure!" A petite and  curvy woman bobbed a curtsy and whipped out her tablet. "What can I get you and your companion?"

"Hello Betsy," Zayn greeted her. "This is Vael. Vael, Miss Betsy Dar.  I have no idea what he likes."

"Do you have chocolate?" Vael asked, appreciating the lush lass with his eyes and a smile that made her preen.

What was it about little women with endless curves? So appealing.

"Hot or cold?" Betsy asked, pen poised over her tablet.

"Cold."

"Cold?" Zayn was aghast.

"I always drink it cold." Vael was amused by Zayn's horrified expression. He was so damn cute with that little crease between those bright eyes.

"Let's try it hot with a platter of Charlotte's cinnamon rolls," Zayn told Betsy. 

"Right, coming up!" Betsy scribbled on her tablet.

"Why do you drink chocolate cold?" Zayne asked.

"Hot drinks run through too fast," Vael explained. "It cuts down on work time."

"But you're not working now," Zayn pointed out.

"You wanted to know what I like," Vael chuckled. "I like chocolate, cold."

"Well, try it hot," Zayn encouraged him, "and we'll see what you think."

Betsy went on her way, calling out to the kitchen, and Zayn caught Vael avidly watching her walk away before giving him a hard look.

The Roamer's dark eyes were steady and Zayn barely glimpsed an amber sheen deep within. "What?"

"Everywhere you've taken me, the people all know you," he observed, "and you know all of them by name. You spend more time out of the Manor than in."

It was not a question, and Zayn couldn't deny the Roamer's perception. "I'm much more at ease out here than up there. And you didn't seem pleased to be measured."

Vael shrugged. "I'm not used to being handled that way," he admitted. "Even my Pop never put hands on me more than he had to growin' up. Space is a precious thing when you got none to spare."

"I thought my flat was small," Zayn admitted, "and compared to the suite at the Manor it is. Then I saw it through your eyes."

"It's palatial, really," Vael chuckled. "I hear tell from crew about sharing a room, facilities, even a bunk. I got all that to myself, and a kitchen, plus a bunkmate who's not just pretty, but very pleasant company."

Zayn felt his face growing hot. Vael was giving him the same searing look he gave Betsy's backside. He couldn't say he found it completely uncomfortable.

"I'm just glad I was there to offer it to you," Zayn murmured, relieved when Betsy reappeared with their chocolate and rolls.

Vael arched a brow at the steam wafting from their mugs.

"You have to let it cool a bit," Zayn cautioned, "or you'll burn your mouth something awful. That's what the rolls are for." He took one of the small plates Betsy left them and selected a large roll from the platter in the center of the table.

Vael did the same, seeing it dripping with white frosting and some kind of dark brown filling between the layers. He watched Zayn work a chunk of his roll free with a fork and popped it into his mouth.

"I don't think I have ever eaten anything so drenched in sugar," Vael remarked.

"It is delicious," Zayn mumbled around another bite. "Just take your time."

Encouraged, Vael copied the Steader, using his fork to cut through the layers of pastry until he had bite-sized pieces, then cautiously picked one up between his fingers and put it in his mouth.

The sweetness hit him first, quickly followed by the spice of cinnamon and something else he couldn't identify. The pastry was flaky and buttery, but not overly sweet.

He chewed, closing his eyes to savor the riot of sensation. Zayn was right. It was delicious.

Vael opened his eyes to catch his companion waiting. A tingle of pleasure shivered through him, making him smile. He liked having Zayn's eyes on him. 

Good to know.

He swallowed the sweet pastry and reached for the chocolate. "S'good," he took a careful sip of the hot drink and got another pleasant surprise. "Oh, that's even better."

Zayn chuckled as Vael took a large piece of the roll and several eager sips of the hot chocolate.

"I can't have this hot on the rig," he sighed regretfully, "but I will damn sure have it hot when I can from now on. Although," he added, eyeing the platter holding four more rolls on their table, "I'm fairly certain I won't be able to handle another one'a those."

"We can have them wrapped to go," Zayn offered, halfway done with his roll. He blew on his chocolate before taking a long sip. "And I think I have some of this stashed away."

They ate in silence for a short time, both finishing their rolls, and then sat sipping the cooling chocolate.

"What did Larimore mean when he called Kestryl 'uppity'?" Zayn asked. He watched Vael over the rim of his mug. He knew uppity people and spent as little time around them as possible. 

Vael didn't strike him as uppity at all, so Larimore's words made him wonder.

Vael shrugged. "I've no earthly idea. I know Boss turns away a good many lookin' to join the crew, but he's gotta maintain standards. He generally won't take on anybody who's been kicked from another clan with reason. He don't tolerate anyone who can't keep his gear and bunk ship-shape, and he surely won't allow folk that don't tend their obligations."

"Obligations?" Zayn wondered.

"Yeah, like, they got young'uns at a Stead, and don't do for 'em and for the mother," Vael explained. "Or they owe rent. Whatever the case, I've heard tell of folks getting' mighty offended when Boss turned 'em away."

"Those standards don't seem so high," Zayn remarked. "I mean you are trusting each other to do very important jobs. It goes without saying that a Boss would expect his crew to mesh well."

"Yeah, sure," Vael agreed. "And I don't know, from one to the next, what qualifies the crew we got, but we run fast and smooth. Larimore must have his facts twisted."

"Or," Zayn suggested, "he was one such that was turned away."

Vael finished off his chocolate. "That could be," he murmured. "It's no matter. He's just another Roamer to me."

"Why did he call you disrespectful? I thought you were being polite."

Vael smiled and locked his eyes on Zayn's.

"Nah, I was rude as fuck 'cuz he had his head up his ass over me makin' Pilot."

Surprised, Zayn laughed and asked, "How were you rude?"

"One of the first signs you can tell a man's about to go dog is the eyes," he explained. "They go all light-colored and wild when they were dark. Roamers look you in the eye so they can see if you're gone dog or still people.

"If they see dog they mark you and watch, so they can be close to put you down if you turn savage. Not looking at him showed him I didn't care if he was dog or man. Or, that I thought him not worth my time."

"Was he?"

"Nah," Vael smiled at Betsy as she approached their table. "I'll get that."

"Oh-,"

"It's got," he stopped Zayn's protest, passing his hand over Betsy's tablet to pay for their meal. "Could you wrap these up for us, lass?"

As they gathered themselves to move on, Zayn went very still. Vael glanced about and saw a squad of Manor Guard approaching them. One stepped forward and saluted Zayn.

"Your Grace," the man cleared his throat. "Her Ladyship requests your attendance at today's luncheon. We will escort you..."

"I am obviously occupied, Captain Lang," Zayn broke in smoothly. His tone was imperious, frosty, and brooked no argument. "Here stands Copilot Vael Kestryl of Clan Kestryl. He has never explored Windemere, so I am doing him the courtesy of showing him around our fair Stead.

"I will attend Her Ladyship later. Relay the message."

The Captain shifted uncomfortably. Vael was impressed that his new friend was capable of such poise.

"Sire," Captain Lang sighed. "Her Ladyship was most insistent that I return with you."

"I am certain you will weather her disappointment with minimal scarring," Zayn informed him. "I cannot possibly abandon my companion. What sort of message would that send to all our Roamer friends? Please, be on your way. After you, Pilot Kestryl?"

The Roamer followed Zayn, leaving the Captain standing there. Vael glanced back to see him finally return to his squad and march back the way they came.

"That was...decisive." And impressive. Zayn's handling of the Captain kicked Vael's seed of interest up several notches.

"The Matron only summons me when she wants to be seen as a caring parent or to try to barter me for some advantage through marriage," Zayn explained. "Other than that, she hardly cares what I do, so long as I don't take up her time or embarrass her."

Back in the milling crowd, they made their way through the square and found a booth Zayn frequented. He looked over the tiny bits and pieces he used to build his models, making several selections before the merchant bagged them all.

Vael ducked into the grocer to confirm his cases of snacks and drinks, adding a few things while Zayne grabbed enough fresh vegetables and meat -and chocolate-to keep them for the next two days.

From there, Vael steered him toward the depot and Zayn's excitement nearly overwhelmed him. Vael nodded to the guards as he led Zayn to the bays where the Kestryl rigs were docked. He chuckled as Zayn's pale green eyes glistened when he came face to face with the Boss rig.

It was still being cleaned and aired out by the crew that drew that duty this run. They nodded at Vael and looked askance at Zayn as he stood in awe of the long rig. It had two folding doors down one side, the glass replaced with clear material. The wheels were covered with armor and sat low to the ground.

"How many wheels total?"

"There's two at each corner, and two midways," Vael explained. He tapped the armor and pulled it up so Zayn could see. Each tire was paired with another. "If our main wheels blow, we have the supplementals to roll on, and if those go," Vael knelt and pointed, "there's a third set running down the middle to keep us going till we can swap out spares."

Zayn was taking notes on a tablet he pulled from a pouch. "Do those deploy automatically?"

"We drop them manually," Vael said. "But I've been workin' on a way to trigger 'em from the cockpit. Everything out here can be reached from inside, though."

"Everything?"

"On the trails, we can't stop to do maintenance," Vael told him. "Sittin' still draws dogs, so we roll, through anything in our way and fix what needs it on the fly."

"How do you reach all this from inside?"

"I'll show you."

Vael reattached the armor and led the way up the high stairs into the rig. Zayn's eyes felt like they went wider with every step. Tools, weapons, and gear were attached to the walls. More stairs led to the next level, but Vael knelt and pulled open a panel in the wide center aisle.

He dropped down and beckoned Zayn to join him.

"See here," he ducked down and pointed. "There're slots to get to the wheels. This runs the whole rig, front to back. Here's the center wheels, and we drop 'em with this lever," he tapped it. "There's more along the line, so we can do it from any point on the rig.

"This dips in the cockpit so Ginnies can get to the engine. It's built over and around the aisle and panels open so we can get to pretty much anything in there. Spare tires are latched along here," he directed Zayn's eyes to the spare tires hanging alongside the aisle, "and tools and bolts are in these." He opened a compartment under them to show the tools magnetically attached.

"Lords," Zayn breathed. "What are those on the tires?"

"Magnets," Vael smiled. "We run on electro-mag energy. The wheels generate it and it's stored in capacitors all along the rig. We get most of our power for lights, guns, and the kitchen from here. We do carry fuel, but it's just to boost or supplement. If the wheels roll, we got power."

"Is that why your rigs are so quiet?"

"That and the engine block is tricked to max efficiency. We tweak it every run, to keep it calibrated and hittin' clean."

They climbed out of the aisle and Zayn touched up his notes while Vael closed and secured the hatch.

"Do you know if any other Clan's rigs run magnets?"

"Pretty sure, not," Vael sighed, leading him toward the front of the rig. "Least not as tuned as ours. It feels like we should share since it would make them faster and lighter, but," he shrugged, "they don't ask, and we don't offer. Here's the cockpit." He swung down into the cab.

"Pilot on the left, Copilot on the right. You see the dual steering and pedals, but the Copilot runs Navigation and can tap into the fore guns if needed. Here's coms, lights, boost-"

"What's goin' on?"

They turned to see Holis peering down at them.

"Holis Col, this is Zayn," Vael introduced. "He builds models," he told Holis, "but he was gettin' some of it wrong, so I figured I'd show him the real thing."

Holis crossed his arms, eyeing the Steader through his dark goggles.

"Boss wants you outside," he grunted at Vael before turning away.

"Are you in trouble?" Zayn whispered.

"We'll see," Vael answered.