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The first time she kissed me, had been a surprise. I had been out riding on the edge of the estate and had fallen off my horse and nearly broken my arm. She had slid off her horse and come to see to me with all the concern and care she could muster - and when I had looked up at her, in pain from the terribly bruised side and forearm. She came down and lifted my arm to check to see how bad it was hurt. She treated the scrape and scratches, picked the wood out of my arm, then pulled me up to hold me when I fought back tears. I had been riding since I was two years of age, but had never had so bad a fall as this, not thirteen years of riding.

I felt her hold me and rock me as I fought the tears, breathing deep and sharp when she pulled my head up and kissed me very softly on my lips, and whispered that I would be okay. She had been a slave of the house for the last ten years, and had been given assignment to ride with me and keep an eye on him. She was afraid of being beaten for my injury, but her care for me grew even more, as she stroked my hair and poured water slowly onto the injury to wash the blood away.

She kissed me again and I felt my pain drift away, and felt how soft she was in those moments, and my eyes were open to how much of a woman the slave girls could truly be. I had never thought of them along those lines before, that they had any intrinsic or learned value, but that changed in those small, simple moments.

I could still taste her lips, even a decade later. I could taste it every time I licked my lips and found it to have never left me, to my joy. It was tastes like that which had given me strength in my darkest moments and removed my fear; it was one of the moments that gave me any hope of peace. It was this peace that helped me even now, as I watched the ransom riders come towards the shoreline and into the armed camp of my captors.

At the head of them rode my grey headed father, beside the twelve guards that went with one of the members of the ruling ring. He rode with his head high, and his look proud, in the heavy ceremonial armor, and his spear high on his saddle. My elder brother rode at his side and the others of the retinue followed five paces behind, ready to fight and guard his life at the slightest provocation. In turn, I stood, while a collar held a chain to the hip of the Wemic knight who held me.

They rode in to the edge of the camp and surrendered their spears - though they did not ride in without a sword for their own peace of mind. They came in close, to a pace of ten, and stopped. The horses panted from the hard ride, making me long for my own. But I remained standing, trying to look dignified, even with the stare of disgust on the face of my sire. He looked at me, as though not seeing his son before him, and waved his hand as though dismissing a foul odor.

"I received a message from the fortress, that you had gathered something of mine. I understand you would like to ransom it back, and I am more than willing to pay the nominal fee for it." My father sat, his arms crossing as he leaned back to watch the knight who held me in chains.

The knight nodded his snout and gestured to me, and pushed me forward to the limit of the chain. I grimaced sharply, and felt a hand on my shoulder to warn me not to run to them, or I'd possibly break my own neck. I grimaced again, and stroked a hand over my collar, wanting to break the black leather off of me, to be free again.

"The horse was a stallion; marked with the family brand just on this side of his flank. There was also a family blade and torc with the same symbol on both. I will retrieve them while I am here." I looked up to my father, thankful for him being prompt. The look of his eyes told me far less, and his face was a grimace.

"There will be five pounds of coin for the stallion and blade and torc, and fifteen for the boy. Your son will be returned to you only then." The great lion-knight rested his hand upon my shoulder and gave a slow stroke, as though I were the stallion myself. I shrugged once, and claws sank deep to remind me of my place. "If you would?"

To my surprise, a single bag was tossed into the sand before the knight, who looked, and lifted, weighing the contents with a toss of the burlap. The knight frowned, and glanced inside at the coins contained inside, then looked up towards my father.

"That will pay for the blade and stallion; but not for your son."

"He is no son of mine. He is no longer Arsalan bin-Saman. He died when he let himself become captured." My father spat, the spittle striking my face. The blow landed as sharp as a strike of a horseman's whip, and I drew my hand up to my cheek, to feel where it had landed. I shivered, the air suddenly cold, and even my captor looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Give me my stallion and my goods, and I will trouble you no more."

I held my face, as the blade was given over, as was my family torc and horse. I watched them ride away, into a cloud of dust and sand, and leaving me in silence, that even the knight who held me felt sorrow for my plight. He looked down to me, his eyes trying to be comforting, before his hand lifted up to stroke on my cheek and wipe away the pain, before turning, and leading me on.

"Come. It seems you belong to me now, my dear little friend. Let us see what to do with you." He tugged, and I followed numbly, as I was lead towards the grand pavilion tent. The war would go on for months.

The ocean crashed and swelled up onto the deck, as the waves grew rough and the distant storm stirred the weather up into a rolling cauldron of potential. It was not a friendly storm that gathered. It was not friendly waves that washed up high, and threatened the safety of the crew and cargo. I wore the collar at my throat still, and had just finished my work cleaning the deck with a mop, when the storm came up to push aside all my work.

I was going to wait and take in the free air as long as I could, before being forced back inside. After being rejected, the knight who had taken capture of me had sent me to be put to use on his estate in the western half of the Wemic Kingdom. The waves washed up again and I teetered for a moment against the railing, I gripped tight to avoid a quick watery death, before a strong hand grabbed my collar and jerked, sending me flat onto my back, and letting me gaze up at the quartermaster of the ship, one of the Daione. Resembling an otter on two legs, the creature had a thick tail and long whiskers, large ears and dark chocolate-brown eyes. This one wore a kilt and vest, and little else - he enjoyed the weather and sun and cold without reservation. He was shorter than I, but a bit stronger, from his work as a sailor.

"Easy t'ere. No need t' lose you to th' ocean." He had a small bark to his laugh, as he put his foot on my chest and stared down at me. "Now. Don' be standin' near the edge when y' be cleanin' or when th' ocean be swirlin'."

I slowly rose up with a grunt, feeling dizzy from the crack on my head. I rose up numbly and looked to the Daione for guidance, who gestured towards the ladder into the lower deck, where I would be returned to the lowest deck, the slave quarters. I was not the only captured slave.

Slave. I was a slave. With no nation and being captured in war with no one to ransom my freedom. The knights had little use for me as a prisoner, without a ransom that I could earn for them - and my knowledge was prodded out of tactics - though I wasn't one with much choice in it with the magic of their words and priests and promises of disappointment if I tried to fight it. Without those uses, the knight gave me a choice - a choice of rope, death by blade, or a collar at my throat.

I am a coward. I chose life.

In the barely lit darkness, I sat and watched the endless glow of a small mage light, which kept the lower decks in a twilight gloom. I took to my pallet and curled up on it, and laid my head to rest upon the small sack given for head comfort. I stared into the soft glow of purple light, and sighed heavy, wishing for a moment, a small moment to reclaim my old life. I wanted to mope, but what pride I had left made me curse my weakness. I dug my nails into the wood beneath me, and hit it twice, dull thumps elicited for my efforts.

My food had been filling, even if it had been dried bread and jerky. The food wasn't the best to eat, but I couldn't complain about going hungry; with the Daione more than willing to share their meals even with those of us beneath the deck. The water made the hull creak, and the storm shook my pallet, threatening to send me rolling off onto the floor.

"Tarsin." The soft rolling hiss of one of the lizard folk caught me off guard, sending me jerking from the darkness which had enveloped my mood. I turned, the scales iridescent scales crossing the long form of the reptilian slave. Manacles crossed forearm and neck, and he watched me with a gleam of yellow eyes, reptilian and alien, but filled with a sharp wit that few would get to know. He wore breeches, stripped, and his body told a story of the life of a slave, with a brand of House Tauros on his left pectoral. A rival house from my once and former homeland, the mark resembled a pair of spears crossing a geld.

"Darkensas?" I hissed the word out, strange the language of these scaled folk, and their stranger dreams, they were surprisingly aware of what was going on around them, and held no fear, that I had ever observed. "I was almost asleep, what is it?"

"Always asleep, you need to awaken. The food is cold, but here for you." With that, he pushed a saved plate of food from earlier in the evening, where I had missed mine from staring out on the ocean after cleaning the deck. He pushed the iron plate over, and upon it were mushed beans and dried fruits, and a strip of jerky that was finely cut. Though expecting hard work, the Daione captain made sure food was plentiful, from slave to his second. I ate ravenously, to the amused sparkle of reptilian eyes.

"Do you ever sleep?" I asked him.

"When no one is watching." He laughed, with a shake of his snout, and a rattle of the brass rings across the high arched crest. His clawed hand lifted and patted my shoulder solidly. "Do you always mope about?"

I grunted at that. I had been moping, to my chagrin. I turned slightly and devoured my food. It was amazing, how simple fare could taste so amazing on the refined tongue. In my home, I had known great steaks and soaking juices, the smell of brown sugars and white cooking, caramelizing, and the smoky taste of roast boars every solstice. I had drunk wine with princes and laughed amongst other high lords, being the son of one of the very council to the Shah-en-Shah, the King. I had dined upon such glamorous feasts, but their memory was as ash in my mouth.

The food was plain, the bread having gone mostly stale. I gnawed at it. The meat was old, tough as leather, but a strange spice bit at my tongue, set it afire, and made me want more. Dried fruits tasted as sweet as the most delicious honey, and the taste of boar, roasted, could not compare to the taste of this dried, simple gift. I felt myself salivate, eating more and more, to fill a void inside. Food this simple bore no right to tasting so sweet, and yet, I began to weep as I ate it. I wept, for the memory of what I had been, then for what I'd lost, and then, finally, wept, for the rage that I had in being so callously abandoned by my own thrice-damned father. I wept, and bit back a scream of incoherent rage, which faded when the scaled hand of the lizard fell to my neck, and drew me in, to touch my brow with his chin. I held him, closely, trusting him implicitly with my very life. The kindness of the slave meant more to me now, than the jeweled opulence of a thousand days and nights of past splendor. I held him, my face wet, but he did not judge my weakness.

"We are lost on the sea of life, between the battered shores of tomorrow and the endless push of yesterday. We will dash against the rocks, shall sink or find the shores of eternity when our small, flimsy vessels complete its journey. How we finish our journey reflects the efforts we made, to adjust the sails, or row when our backs threaten to break from strain. The more effort, the more strength we pour into our life, and not hold back in reservation, the greater ease we shall find our final swim. "

He touched my neck, and brushed my shoulders, finger tips dipping as I let the plate fall, and rattle. I wept there, and slid into darkness, my face against a scaled chest. I do not think he really minded all that much.

I was no longer as numb. It was with vigor that I began my chore upon the deck of the ship, bent upon my hands and knees and pushing a brush across the top of the deck, to loosen the excess salt and scrub it away. My back burned from the sun, the tanned flesh having started to burn from the many hours of work, sweaty and hot. Beside me Darkensas worked the second brush, and we talked as we worked, making sure to not miss a spot. It helped to have his distraction about, as it helped to have no fear of a lash should I fall behind. Though kind, they were harsh taskmasters, the Daione, when we did not keep to a certain effort and speed.

I worked, the deck would come clean. I dug the wire brush in angrily, feeling my muscles hardening over the days of work it took us. I would sleep sore and awaken ravenous, and the food never lost its sweet taste as I worked my way through the ship. When the deck was clean I would be lowered to the side of the ship, in a flimsy rope harness, and set to scraping barnacles off the side - the trip would take two months to complete, so the extra labor always helped lighten the mood of the crew, and kept we in bondage content, or so it was said. I didn't care, there was work to do, and my anger was scrubbed away.

It was on the second week and third day of my bondage, that blood sails were spotted on the horizon, and the flags of Tarsin Pirates were spotted. It was only a single ship, a quick runner that struck hard, fast, and fled before any could stop it. The ship approached fast, perhaps a half day out, and the captain kept a wary watch, as it came closer yet. We slaves were driven back into our hold beneath the ship, and our door barred shut to keep us secure, while the ship set to prepare for battle.

In the gloomy dark, I occupied myself with learning the intricacies of the wood work on board the ship, that even the slave deck held a mural upon it, etched into the wood. It had been scuffed and clawed at, the entire holding deck had marks of those who had suffered the same grim fate as I and the others held by chain. I felt a pang then, for the artwork had been inscribed so lovingly and yet so callously defaced. The sight brought another pang, and I quickly quashed it, to sit beside the tall lizard, and share with him the dried fruits I had saved from first meal. I preferred the jerkies, but the fruit helped keep away the sickness of the ocean spirits. The lizard ate carefully, savoring each piece.

"The pirates harass the water ways between the nation of Tarsin, and the lands of the people of the north. My kind hold little love of the filth of the sea, Tarsin-son. Better death and the chain, than life of the pirate filth." He spat, his long tongue uncoiling like a whip.

"Agreed. I might be in these." I lifted the manacles, though they were unchained, and meant more to show my place than anything. "But there is still honor. I have not forgotten the face of what made me."

Though I cursed the face of my bastard sire, I would not forget him, and what lessons and wisdom he had taught me. I was no longer his son, or so he had so brazenly claimed, and so be it. I sat back to think on this, then looked up to Darkensas, the large lizard giving me the same curious, distant look he gave everything.

"Have you chosen a new name, Tarsin-son? Or shall you ever be without a name? It grows weary to call you Tarsin-son." He finished the last of the dried fruit and gave a small belch, as ever a sign of contentment and pleased stomach. I had to smile - it was uncouth and barbaric, but simple, without the complexities of my home, offering no insult, but as a simple statement of being.

"I've not given it much thought. Work on the deck does not pay much time to thinking such deep thoughts. Are you always so deep, Darkensas?" I asked. The ship shook suddenly, and the wall beside me creaked with a reverberating thump; sign that the pirates had finally crashed into the great ship. The Daione crew and Wemic Knights above prepared for battle and the din of shouts could be heard. I ignored it, deciding to focus on something I could care about. I tugged the chain that kept me secure to the ship wall; it gave me just enough room to sit with a friend, though. "Is that why you always look so distant?"

"Always distant, because home is distant. Keep my eyes on what I love, and I'll never be without it, or too far from the hearth." He sighed, a great puff of breath that showed how deep the thoughts came from. "You are sad. You do not have a hearth to call your own, nor a fire to warm you, or loved ones to keep you safe. You should take the name Zan. Zan was a strange one, who was lost to the sea, and survived, when all his clan was lost to him. He wandered, never able to rest, for he could find nothing to replace his lost home, until he forgave himself for surviving. Because you survive does not mean you are a coward, it means you are not ready to die, for work awaits you. Fate calls you."

"Zan, eh?" I asked, squinting up at him. My skin had grown used to the burning, and already taken a heavier shade of brown than the light tan I had always had. My hair was starting to grow lighter in color, the sea air bleaching it, though the roots remained as dark as ever. "Zan. Fine. Call me Zan. What ever happened to your Zan?"

"He lived a great, long time, before being attacked again. He set fire to a pirate ship, and went down with it."

I grunted. Not a bad death.

And then the door, barred from the other side, was kicked open.

He was an ugly bastard, who stared down at me and the other gathered lot. Blood, Wemic, human, and Daione, dripped from a long saber, and he stared at me, confused to see one of his own kind on the ship. He was Tarsin, his black hair greasy and an eye patch over his left eye. He stared at me, and his hand tightened.

I was stunned a moment, before lifting up my wrists, and gesturing towards the chain that held me.

"Please, set me free, and I'll help you fight the bastards that have us!" A hiss of surprise left the lizard beside me, and his claws tightened down, ready to strike me. He didn't move, of course, though his tail tip twitched irritably. A bad tell, he'd be perfect to gamble against. "I was captured, please, let me avenge myself and die with honor before the flame!"

The pirate stared again, before he grunted - the ocean always bred men of superstitious means, where the ocean could turn sour in a heartbeat, or placid in a prayer, and invoking a shared trait brought him to his senses. He leapt over to me and kicked the lizard back, which wisely stayed out of my way, before bringing his sword down and breaking the already salt-water-weakened chain holding me to the post. It had been placed to keep us from fiddling with the door, but was always off otherwise.

The quartermaster had said: "Where will you run off to in the ocean?"

He was right.

With the chain free, I paid a glance at the angry looking lizard, then to the sword wielding pirate, who turned to count the heads of the slave - or perhaps looking to see what we'd be worth. I didn't care to give him much time to prepare, as I drew the length of chain around his throat and tightened, while kicking the back of one of his knees. I held him there, strangling him, and growled deep into his ear as he gagged.

"Thank you, Dog." And I held him tight, as he tried to slash at me. IT ran through my side and bounced off a rib, but I didn't let go of the chain, and I forced him down, until he stopped breathing and struggling, and the blade fell free from his throat. I took up the sword then, and hewed his head from his shoulders, and turned, stalking towards the great lizard, who continued to glare at me, though his tail betrayed small curiosity.

I lifted the blade and swung, and the chain broke again. The sword was strong and heavy, crude, but it worked in shattering chains when I gave it a whack or two. I did the same for the others here, held in bondage, and turned, pointing up the deck with the great weapon in my hand. It felt good to hold steel again.

"It appears we have pirates aboard our ship. Now, I don't know if the rest of you agree, but I'd rather be a slave under a daione, than free, beneath a pirate. At least the Daione feed us well." I heard a few grunts, before gesturing, and lead the way up the stairs, blade in hand. The rest found something of use, a wood plank here, a crowbar there, and Darkensas found an old metal rod, six feet in length. He could lift it with ease.

The ship was chaos, fighting between a grey-green Orc and the slick-pelted Daione; while a pair of Wemic Knights engaged four armed Tarsin Pirates. I pushed out onto the deck, and pointed towards an onrushing pair of pirates, and leapt, bringing the blade down to strike heavy and hard, and push out the rage I had felt against my old homeland. I struck, and raced across the deck, towards the fore of the ship, to where the pirates had struck and boarded. There were many, but I was angry, and trained by a master of the blade.

Darkensas fought with more agility than his large frame would give him credit for. He danced with the pole, swinging it hard and breaking bone with an over-head swing, and deflecting strikes with it, while his tail caught feet and toppled men into the water. The great lizard took neither joy nor sorrow in the fight, and looked bored with the entire measure. I wondered about him, but was too busy to voice any comments on it.

I brought my sword down upon a surprised skull, cleaving it, before finding myself engaged with several others. And in the din, I lost myself to the fight, too busy parrying a blade here and striking a neck there, to worry about my troubles, or anything but the taste of blood and sating of a buried bloodlust. I was wounded and struck, but each time I fought harder and faster, only twice switching my blade when one broke. The battle took many an hour before the pirate ship fought to disengage, but by that time, it began to swarm with Daione, who were master swimmers, and the greatest borders of ships that any could ever find.

It was a blood bath, and I stood upon the aft, feeling strong, and washing away the old stains with fresh blood of the new. It was then I felt the throb of my cuts, and the dizziness of exhaustion, and blood loss - not enough to kill me, but enough to make me feel drunk. I dropped the blade and sagged, only for strong hands to lift me up, and help prevent me from falling into the water below. The strength of Darkensas kept me close, his thick hide run with slashes, but it would take more than a few meat skewers to take down this wily lizard.

I let him drag me to seat, while the crew tended their injured, before seeing to the dead. Oddly, we few slaves were given no mind, as we sat, recovering our strength, and wondering what fate and the future would bring us. It did not take long, as one of the Knights of the Lion God drew his blade and held it up, preparing to strike if we made a move. I suppose the fact I had the blade at my feet must have made him nervous.

"You fought well, and defended the ship. I am thankful. Had I a choice, I would have you, and take you to my village for your honor and valor, but it is not my choice. I will say thank you." I nodded towards the knight, and looked him over, through the thick mane that spoke of the prime of youth and just into the cusp of adulthood. I felt kinship, and offered him my hand, which he took and shook as an equal would.

"But, I am sorry. In the laws of my people, you took of a blade, and there are ascribed punishments for such an act. There is mitigation that you did so to defend your Masters and their allies, but the laws stand. I am sorry, and beg you forgive me for what I must do." He drew my arm out and I tensed, but forestalled the interruption of Darkensas behind me. He watched, knowing he would take the same punishment. He looked more focused now than he had been since I had met him. I held his gaze, and die not look, as my hand was forced to grip the railing. He held my hand there. "By the laws, you must also receive a punishment for such an act, as it breaks the ways of your owners, and the Laws of Talisid. I am permitted to lighten the sentence to a simple break. I pray you forgive me, warrir, and understand my reasons why."

I did. And, I couldn't bring myself to fight him, or blame him. He was as beholden to his ways, as I had been to my Flame and Storm. He was as much a slave to his Gods and Rules, as I was now slave to fate and whatever should take me in the future. I waited, as he prepared his blade to strike with the flat, against the back of my arm. This was going to hurt.

The blow did not come. Instead came a gruff cough, and the scent of musky fur, strong even on the ocean, from the oils in a thick pelt. I turned my head and looked up to see the first mate holding his blade against the Wemic's own, keeping it locked high. Both weapons were sharp, and the tension was hard between them. For a moment, there was silence, as all eyes fell upon the two. Wisely, the Wemic relaxed his arm, and slowly lowered the weapon.

"The decision is the captains to make. He might be your property, but all punishment goes through him." The Daione murmured, while keeping the knight still with the weapon press. I looked up, thankfully, upon the mate, who clicked his tongue and lifted my sword up, and gestured with it, and slapped me across the backside with the flat. I jumped, and he laughed. I was lead on, the lizard at my side, using his pole for support. He was tired. So was I.

We were lead to the high deck, up the stairs where the captain sat, being bandaged across the face, where an eye had been struck by an arrow. I looked at it, still impaled upon the tip of the fletched thing, then up at the otter, who simply shrugged.

"The Gods saw fit to give me a spare." He stated, stalling me from making any pronouncements. I kept my mouth wisely shut. "You are no stranger to battle, either of you. My, even fought on the ship on the side of your captors. What would possess you to do such a thing?"

"Better a slave than a pirate." The lizard behind me spoke, and I nodded my agreement.

"No slave may take up a weapon, even in defense of his Masters." Captain Nyx spoke, while leaning against the nearby railing and running a thumb along the sword. "The punishment is loss of the offending hand, according to the laws of the Wemic Knighthood. The laws are rather harsh and unbending, and they will brook no argument about punishing those who offend their high morals."

"I am prepared to pay." I said, readying to hold my sword hand out again. I was not filled with fear, though I dreaded the pain. "I don't have to like a law to obey it."

"Put your arm down, boy. I'm not one of them. I am Daione, and amongst my people, there are no slaves. We have spent too long in bondage to others, that we will not do so ourselves." He spat irritably, the undercoat showing as he turned to look up at me. "And I am the captain of this ship. You might be a slave, but I am the final authority in these waters, on this boat, and she would not be happy if I let one of her guardians pay for doing the right thing. They might be the new power and an old order, but I follow a much older ethos than they."

He turned, irritating the surgeon. She growled and muttered under her breath, as she returned to patching up the ships irritable captain.

"I understand the ways of the Knighthood." The captain murmured, taking a shot of bourbon and then offering a shot to myself and the lizard behind me. The lizard politely refused and I downed my own, before sitting where given a chance. "They have hard laws for a hard land, and rules that must not be broken. On board my ship I am the same way, but even then, I am beholden to my people and remember the fresh scars from the Jotunn, the bastard Orcs who have held my people for more centuries than whores I've fucked."

He spat again.

"They have their laws, the Knighthood, but I have my own people and memories. I am not so unused to a collar at my throat, Tarsin-son, that I do not feel pain for your plight, and life. Your people take slaves, but even then, I do not wish to see you under that life, as just it might or might not be. I don't know. What I do know, is that you stood up and fought off pirates, on my ship, and are going to be punished for it. Correct?"

"Yes sir, Captain Nyx." I said.

"Minotaur-turds if I'll let that happen. You are a friend to my ship, my crew and myself, and damn the knights up their high tailed asses if I'll let you be put down for doing favor to me and my clan. The problem lies in the wording of their laws. No 'slave' may take up arms." He grunted, while the surgeon continued needle work in the arm, to close up a rather nasty gash. I felt weak, feeling my own at my side. "So I'll take the burden of their ownership off of them. You are worth the loss in profits; better a few lost coins than a lost ship, no?"

I didn't want to think that he had been that close to losing his ship. I was just one man. Well, one man with a big sword and a lizard companion behind me.

"You are going to purchase us?"

"Daione do not take slaves." He tapped a pouch on his vest, and pulled out an old cherry-wood pipe, and tapped a sniff of green-leaf into it. "So I am not going to own you. You'll be purchased, and you can work off the debt on the ship. Also, you are entitled to a share, for your work. You can use that to pay off your value."

"Sound fair?" He lit the pipe with an old packed match, and took a long breath, a pale white smoke filtering out. He offered it, and I refused; the smoke stunk, but the otter seemed to like it. I gave a dumbfounded nod, before gesturing back to Darkensas.

"Will he be free too?" The captain gave me a cheeky, whiskery grin with the slow nod of his snout, as though it should have been obvious by now. I said nothing, as I looked up at the lizard.

"The waves of yesterday, the shore of tomorrow, remember that, Zan."

"Zan?" The captain asked me. "Odd name. Regardless, the knights can choke on the value of you, you are now sailors on my ship, same with the others that fought. See the quartermaster for your rooms and lodge share accounts. Oh, and you both did well today. Keep all that up."