The roads into Dakesht were beginning to fill with people, even at dawn. There were groups of lowing cattle, bleating sheep, noisy geese and equally noisy children; and here and there a fur-trader. Sherath, astride one of the new beasts and leading Sunshine, called the others up to him.

– Keep close together, he said. We'll take the beasts straight down to the market and pen them. They're better than anything we've seen here yet – they should sell early, and well.

Tarke gave a gentle tug on Agouti's lead rope, and nudged the bay she was riding with her heels to send him forwards abreast of Sherath. – Are we leaving our own beasts in town?

– There'll be a livery stable, said Nemeth, hauling an unwilling Flax up to keep pace with his mount – another bay.

– How do we pay them? asked Farinka.

– Out of what we get for the beasts, nitwit, said Nemeth, laughing. At least, that's the general idea.

– And how much will we get for the beasts?

– No idea, said Sherath. I'll have to see how some others sell before I think about price. I don't know what prices beasts go for at all.

The market pens were filling up gradually when they arrived; one of the stallsmen checked the four beasts in.

"Don't suppose 'ee wants to sell that goldie, do 'ee?" he asked Sherath.

Sherath grinned at him. "Not really. He's a friend."

"Shame. My missus'd love that 'un. 'E's right pretty."

"He is that," said Tarke. "What sort of price would you pay for a goldie – if you could get one?"

"I dunno. Sure you're not selling?"

"Positive."

"Well then, seeing as you're not selling, maybe sixty marks. For a goldie. You could ask fifty for any of your others, and maybe get it, too. None broken-winded? Broken-mouthed?"

"They're all under five years old," said Farinka, chivvying the roan into the pen with the other three. "Green, but no vices." – They haven't had time to learn any, she added, catching Sherath's eye. He grinned.

The stallsman winked at Sherath. "Wish you luck," he said.

"And you," replied Sherath as the man turned to install the next group of beasts.

Nemeth was suddenly Aware of a tiny hand stealthily approaching his belt, and reached an arm round behind him, catching hold of a ragged little urchin. The little one froze, turning beseeching eyes up at him.

"Over young for that game, aren't you, little one?" said Nemeth softly, lifting the small scrap of humanity up by its jacket and holding it at eye level.

"Dint mean no 'arm, sor, onnist," the scrap replied. "Wuz just looken at they beasts. They's nice beasts, sor, they is," he added.

"And you weren't going to pick my pocket for me, then?" said Nemeth, half smiling.

"No, sor, not 'tall sor. Onnist?" The urchin tried what a grin would do. It worked. Nemeth burst out laughing.

"Okay, scrap. Go on home to your mother, before someone gets the wrong idea, all right?"

"Got no mam, sor. She'm dead this spring. No dad, neither. Jus' me and Kehwi."

"Who's Kehwi," asked Tarke gently, looking into the child's eyes. The urchin reached out a hand towards her, hesitantly. Tarke took the hand in her own. – Nemeth, sit him on the rails, you'll strangle him with his own jacket in a minute. Nemeth glanced at her, then perched the boy on the rails.

"Me sister, miss. She'm got a bad arm; dog bit'n las' week."

"Who looks after you?" asked Tarke, still gazing into the brown eyes.

"Nobody do. Leastways, I do. I picks up stuff, 'ere and there, like. And sometimes folks gives us stuff."

"What's your name?"

"Luk, miss."

"Well, Luk; can you show us where we can stable our beasts? It'll earn you a mark, when we sell these."

Luk's eyes lit up. "A whole mark? Onnist?"

"Honest," said Tarke.

– Softie, said Nemeth with a smile. He probably gives that story to everyone.

– No. He's telling the truth, Nemeth. And he's worried about his sister.

"Take us to the stable, Luk," said Sherath. "I tell you what, you can ride Sunshine." He picked Luk up off the rails and sat him on Sunshine's back, giving him a handful of the white mane to hold.

"Dussn't need that, sor," said the urchin. "Gi's 'is rope." He grinned. "Me dad useter be a beastmaster afore 'e took sick. Foller me."

He flicked Sunshine's neck expertly with the end of the rope, and neck-reined him between groups of traders.

– I'll stay with the beasts, said Nemeth. See you back here.

– Okay. We won't be long, said Sherath.

The liveryman's yard was a hundred yards down the main road from the market place. Luk brought Sunshine to a halt by the entrance.

"Tandi!" he called. "Gotten some work for 'ee, Tandi!"

"Okay, okay! I'm coming," called a warmly resonant voice from inside the yard. A tall, lean, hawk-nosed, weather-wrinkled man, with deeply tanned skin and grey hair showing traces of its original black, came to the yard doors, looking up at Luk. "Oh, it's you, is it, trouble?"

"I's no trouble, Tandi. Lookit what I got 'ere, then." Luk patted Sunshine's warm neck. "'E's a right good 'un, 'e is, int 'e, eh, then?" Luk slithered down off Sunshine's back. Tandi turned to face the Elves as they brought the beasts up.

"We need stabling. Just for the day," said Sherath. "How much?"

"For the three? A quarter-mark, includes a grain feed, but I can't groom 'em for you, mind. Too much work and not enough time or hands. They quiet, like?"

"Very," said Tarke. "No vices."

Tandy ran an expert hand down Sunshine's legs, and peered into his mouth. "He's nice, he is. Shame he's been cut. I could do with a goldie colt. Could've used him on my mares, got goldie foals."

He took Sunshine into the yard, beckoning with one finger. "In here with them." He stabled Sunshine in a loosebox, and indicated two tie-stalls for the others.

"You breed beasts, then?" asked Farinka, tying Flax's rope to the manger ring.

"Aye. I do."

"And you want goldie foals?"

Tandi turned and grinned at her, displaying surprisingly good white teeth. His eyes were kind. "Don't everyone, these days? I just keep getting chestnuts. No goldies."

"Are your mares chestnut?"

"Aye. All three on 'em. The first one was carrying a goldie foal when I bought her, so I know she can have 'em, but she's not had one since. You know about breeding then, lassie?"

"Yes. A bit."

"So where am I going wrong, then?"

"If you breed goldies to chestnuts, half the foals will be goldies."

"Can't get a goldie colt, though," Tandi said. "Not for love nor money."

"Tandi, if you get a pale cream colt with a white mane and tail and blue eyes, and use him on your chestnut mares, every foal you get will be a goldie."

"Pull the other one; 's got bells on," suggested Tandi with a grin, forking sweet-smelling hay into the racks.

"Serious, Tandi. Every foal."

"Now where would I get a colt like that, though? Not seen one of those for many a year." Tandy said, interested.

"If we ever get hold of one, I'll bring him to you."

"For a fee, eh? How much?"

– Domina, what game are you playing? asked Sherath, on a very tight one-to-one wavelength.

– My own game, here, she answered in the same way.

– Are you sure about that with the goldie foals?

– Positive. I knew someone who bred them, back home. Never failed. She smiled.

"You're short on time and help, yes?"

"Darn right I am. Nobody wants this job, lassie."

"Luk could do your work with you," suggested Farinka, catching Tandi's gaze and holding it. Tandi met her eyes, appraisingly curious.

– Gently with the Coercion, Domina. He just might feel it, whispered Sherath.

– Loves the beasts, doesn't he, Sherath?

Sherath grinned. – Small world, isn't it?

Sherath touched Tandi's arm, getting his attention. "Tandi; if you'll take Luk and Kehwi in, house them, feed them – clothe them; I'll give you five marks as soon as we've sold our beasts. Another ten if Luk and Kehwi are here, happy, and well, next time I come through Dakesht – which may not be for some time. And if we find a blue-eyed cream, we'll let you have him for thirty marks. Okay? And Luk will work well for you – won't you, Luk?"

Luk nodded enthusiastically. "Onnist, sor. Really."

"Well," said Tandi. "He does know how to handle them, I'll say that for him. And Kehwi could cook for us, eh, Luk?" He paused, thoughtfully. Then he looked up at Sherath and grinned. "I'll trust you – though I don't know why I should. Never saw you before, lad. But I'll trust you."

Sherath grinned at him. "We'll find you that colt, Tandi. Promise."

"You do that thing." He ruffled Luk's hair. "And you, trouble, just remember not to talk to me before breakfast, or you'll get an earful. Okay?" He turned back to Sherath, who had started to spread straw under the beasts. "Is there anything else you're needing? You being a stranger round here?" Sherath was suddenly Aware of Tandi's curiosity – a curiosity with many subtle nuances and overtones – and shut down his own Awareness abruptly. Hopefully before Tandi realised what I was doing, he thought to himself.

"I could do with being shown where I can buy a light wagon," said Sherath. "And harness for these two beasts."

"Well, here, lad. I don't just deal in beasts, you know. Finish off settling these two while I do that goldie of yours, and I'll show you some stuff."

"I brought you luck, dint I, Tandi?" asked Luk hopefully.

Tandi grinned his lopsided twinkle-eyed grin at the boy. "Trade, littl'un. Better than luck, any day. You keep doing that, and we'll get along just fine. You'd better off and fetch that sister of yours here."

***

Nemeth sat on the pen rails, half an eye on the beasts, and rolled himself a leaf smoke-roll, one-handed. There was a small group of people working their way down the pens, looking at packbeasts. One glanced up at Nemeth as he came to the rails.

"These yours, son?" he asked.

"Yes. You interested in buying, or just looking?"

"I'm buying, if I find the right beasts. Are they trained?"

"To pack and ride," said Nemeth. "Trained bitless; they've never been bitted. They're green, but biddable and honest."

"Not to drive, then?" asked the man.

"They're only young. They'd learn; they're quiet enough."

"They've been cut?" asked the man, climbing over the rails and pushing one of the bays out of the way, feeling the thickness of coat on it at the same time. "Mountain beasts?"

"Yes. From the alpine meadows. And they've been cut."

"And quiet, you say?"

"As lambs," said Nemeth, lighting the smoke-roll.

"Good around children?"

"They're used to Children."

"What about with dogs?"

"Don't know. They've never met dogs – we don't have any."

"No dogs?" the man glanced up, curious. "Well, they seem quiet. What sort of price are you asking, lad?"

"Sixty."

"Come off it. I'm really looking for a pair to drive, but you say these don't."

"I say they'd learn – in the right hands," said Nemeth with a grin. "The bays make a nice pair."

The man grinned at him. "That they do. Well matched." He ran his hands down the bays' legs, round their heads; peered into their mouths. "Four-year-olds, eh?"

"Yes. They'll learn. And you can see how quiet they are."

"True. Tell you what; ninety marks for the pair."

"Fifty five each?" suggested Nemeth. The man grinned again.

"A hundred for the pair. And no more."

Nemeth looked thoughtful, considering. He sighed.

"Okay, then. But it's daylight robbery," he added with a grin.

"'Tisn't. But you're right; they'll learn." The man reached into his belt-purse, counting out a handful of coins. Nemeth counted, as well; then handed him back a half-mark. "For luck," he said.

"Traveller's son, eh?" asked the man. "I thought you'd that look about you." Nemeth helped him with the slip-rails, and he led the two bays away, pausing to exchange a few words with a woman in a deerskin jacket. She looked over; Nemeth caught her eye, and grinned. The grin was returned with interest, and she came over.

"Gan tells me you've got something I might like." Her eyes smiled up at him. "The roan."

"Take a look. They're both for sale. Go on in."

He lifted the top rail aside, and got another smile for that. "Thank you. What are you doing when you've sold your beasts?"

"Hiring a boat," said Nemeth. "For a while."

"And after that?"

"Finding somewhere to eat and drink," he answered with a smile.

"I could fix you a meal, if you're interested," she suggested.

"What, all four of us?" asked Nemeth, looking down the gangway to where the others were approaching.

"Two of you, perhaps," said the woman, looking appraisingly at Sherath before turning to the roan beast and examining it. "I like this beast. I'll give you fifty for it – if you and your friend want to share a meal?"

"How about fifty without the meal? Sorry – but we have to be out of Dakesht tonight," said Nemeth gently. "Though I'd have enjoyed the company."

The woman laughed. "So would I. Forty five without the meal, lad."

"Okay. But only because I like you," he added with a smile.

"You're not bad, yourself," she said, counting coins into his hand and leading the roan out of the pen. Nemeth's smile turned into a laugh.

"You've bought yourself a good beast, there, lady," he said. She waved at him as she led the roan away.

– You're doing well, said Tarke as she came up. Just the one left? She climbed onto the rails and scratched the brown gelding's neck affectionately.

– How much have you made? asked Farinka.

– A hundred and forty four marks so far, said Nemeth. But the man who bought the bays is on his way back.

"Take forty-five for the brown?" asked the man. "For a friend of mine."

"Fifty-five," said Sherath.

The man turned to him. "You two drive a hard bargain, you do. Fifty?"

"Done," said Nemeth, handing him the rope. Sherath pocketed the money.

"Where's a good clean alehouse?" he asked the man.

"Wagon and Pair. Down by the docks. It's well-kept, they serve a good dinner and brew their own ale. My brother's place – his woman's the best cook in town. You bringing any more beasts to Dakesht?" he asked, glancing up at Sherath.

"Not for a while. We're moving west."

"Let me know when you do. Teg at the Wagon can always get word to me. Gan's the name. I'm always looking for good beasts – and now that I've bought them, I'll say they're damned good beasts. Well trained, and sound. You know your trade."

– Easy when you've got two unicorns to help, said Sherath, and aloud, "We have to. It's all we've got."

"Know the feeling." The man grinned up at him.

***

Sherath hefted two sacks of wheat flour into the back of the wagon, dusting his hands off on the seat of his trousers.

"Any more?" he asked Tarke.

"That should be enough until we reach Tashik. How are we doing for marks?"

"Plenty left. Why?"

"I'd like to get Kehwi something pretty to wear. She doesn't look as though anyone's loved her for a long time."

"No, she doesn't. I hope Tandi will be kind to her."

"He will. If he were younger..." she left the rest unsaid.

"But he isn't," said Sherath. "She's an attractive girl, when you look through the dirt and the pain."

"She may keep herself dirty for a reason," suggested Farinka softly. Sherath glanced over at her.

– ?

– No-one's likely to pester her, in that state.

– I'd have thought she was too young, he said.

– Don't you believe it. I was only about five, Sherath. And she must be thirteen or more – even though she's so small. I'm not surprised she's wary.

– Tandi will make sure she's not bothered. He may not look tough, but I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of him, said Sherath.

– He'd never be able to take you on, said Tarke.

– No; but then I'm an Elf. I wouldn't give much for a man's chances in a fight with Tandi. Did you notice those cloth tents back there?

– Yes. I was wondering about them. They're bigger than ours.

– They're the sort the travellers use. And they wouldn't hold the wet – they're waxed. They're lighter than ours. One would be big enough for all of us. And they fold down smaller. What do you think?

– Forty marks. Could we?

– We could sell the hides to Tandi – he makes harness, as well as selling it.

– We could even give the hides to Tandi, suggested Farinka.

– We could, agreed Sherath. Or swap them – if he will. Tarke? More hides are easily come by.

– I'll go and talk to him, she said. Sherath, I think you should do something about Kehwi's arm before we go. It's not too nasty; but in her place, I'd rather have you treat it than any of Dakesht's people. How long is Nemeth going to be out in that boat?

– I don't know. He's trying to contact sea Elves.

– Yes, I know. I'd never realised until now how he felt about Nehhuare's people, Tarke remarked.

– They're also his people – as much as we are, said Sherath. And, as he says, it's quite possible that he's the last male Elf alive with Southern blood. The last of Miirshekaar's line, too, he added, thoughtfully.

– Maybe not.

– Who was Miirshekaar? asked Farinka, stacking a variety of small items under one of the wagon's inside ledges.

– Miirshekaar was a Southern Elf king, a long time ago. There are a lot of legends surrounding him – even we in the North know some of them. How many are true is another matter, he added with a smile, his sea-coloured eyes laughing. You know how legends grow with time – and Miirshekaar's exploits have had a lot of time in which to grow to amazing proportions.

– Don't let Nemeth hear you saying that, advised Tarke. The direct descent just might make him resent it.

– Nemeth never resents me, Tarke. He knows me too well – and I him.

– Never yet, Tarke's Voice whispered.

***

Tarke and Farinka stood by the docks.

"Shall we find out what spices that ship's carrying?" asked Tarke. "They haven't unloaded yet – we might be able to cut out the middle man."

"Good thinking. Nemeth will be your slave for life."

"Or at least till the end of the day," said Tarke with a smile. "Coming?" She walked across the gangway, sidestepping to avoid a pair of sailors involved in a heated discussion. They broke off the argument as the Elves passed them, and, distracted, forgot to continue it.

Tarke looked along the deck, and tapped at someone's sleeve.

"Yes, what?" snapped the man, then turned and saw her; his eyes opened wide in appreciation, and his jaw dropped. "Oh, lady; my apologies. How can I help you?"

"Are you carrying spices?" she asked.

"Plenty. Look; I'm tied up right now. See Shakir – the cargomaster. In the red shirt, over there."

"Thank you."