The caravan had created its own encampment off to one side of the village of Recept. Most of the wagons had been positioned to form a rough perimeter; inside, I could see a couple of small campfires where women were preparing a meal. Children skipped past tents and dodged past wagon wheels. A hexapodal lizard stalked a large insect.

  By a gap between two wagons stood two guards. On leaned on a spear, while the other held a pole on which was mounted a curved blade with a hook on the other side. They watched me approach with a studied lack of interest. The spear dropped into a slant to block my passage.

  “Name. Reason to approach.” This from the spearman.

  “I’m Circe. I need to speak with your—”, I hesitated, “—caravan master.”

  His gaze took me in whole, and he leaned to the side and spat. “Not looking for any camp followers.”

  His words took a few seconds to penetrate, and then I felt myself flush. “I am merely seeking passage to Vandoran.”

  “That’ll cost you.” He looked down at my thighs, where they emerged from my damp dress. His mouth crooked. “Also, I’ll have to search you before you can enter.”

  “I’m a Healer,” I said. “I’ve no doubt a caravan can make use of me.”

  He snorted explosively. “A Mage, are you?” He elbowed his compatriot and jerked his head towards a nearby tent. “Well, c’mon then. You can show me some magic over there. Private like.”

  I smiled at him. “You know,” I said, “healers can cure. And they can also bring disease.” I leaned in a little. “There’s a nasty infection that I ran into south of here. The—” I wiggled my hand at his crotch, “—man parts start to turn a nasty shade of green. Then they—” I dropped my hand abruptly, “—fall off.”

  “Tell me another, girly.”

  “True,” I said, “and the first symptom is an ache between the legs.” I cast a piece of spell twine and wrapped it around his testicles. I slowly began to contract the loop.

  “Sounds like a load of crock to me—” He gasped and clutched himself.

  “Terrible illness,” I said, “Once it takes hold, there’s just no stopping it.”

  “Jard,” said the other guard in alarm, “what the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Jard did not look well. His face was pale, and he was gasping. I eased up slightly on the spell. He stared at me in horror and I raised an eyebrow.

  “Get in,” he said. He pointed towards one of the larger wagons bearing an elaborately painted cabin. “Ask for Mast.”

  “Thanks so much,” I said. I dropped the spell, and they scampered aside as I passed.

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  I knocked on the door of the wagon. When there was no response, I pulled it open and stepped inside. The inside was a combination of office and bedroom; a twin bunk took up one side at the rear, with facing cupboards on the opposite wall. At the other end of the cabin was a desk. Two men were seated facing each other; papers and quills were piled high on every available surface. The larger of the two wore silver ornaments braided into a heavy beard. Black hair was pulled back into a quoit, held with a silver band. A short, heavy sword leaned against the side of his chair. His companion was shorter, with ink-stained hands and a harried air about him.

  “Who are you?” The bearded one asked.

  “Circe. I’m looking for Mast.”

  “You found him. Now get the hell out of my wagon.” He had an odd accent that I could not place.

  “I’m looking for passage to Vandoran. I’m applying to the Academy.”

  “Good for you. I am not taking passengers. Perhaps your luck will be better elsewhere.” He turned back to his papers.

  “I can heal.”

  He snorted, not looking up. “Do you really think I’ll trust some untrained kid? Go to the Academy for four years. Then talk to me.”

  “The road can be hard,” I said. “I’ve no doubt someone here needs care.”

  “Could be.” He still did not favour me with a glance.

  I sighed in frustration. “Also,” I said, “I’m looking for an Officer of the Crown.”

  This time he did look at me. “That would be me. What do you need?”

  “There’s a bounty on a pair of theranaq. I’m here to collect it.”

  His companion cackled and shook his head. “You have the claws, I suppose.”

  I pulled the folded tarp off my pack and untied its wrappings. I pulled the corners apart and the claws and feathers spilled out on the floor. The two men stared at the pile in silence.

  “The claws are yours for the bounty,” I said. “The feathers are for sale. You can have first bid on them.”

  Mast knelt to examine the claws. He used his hand to measure the length of the talons and tested their sharpness.

  “Where did you find these?”, he asked.

  “There’s a waterfall a few stads back along the trail. An island in the pool. With a tree bridging over from the shore.”

  “I know it.”

  “The theranaq hunted me. I drew them along the bridge, and they fell into the pool. Then a daktar stunned them, and they drowned.”

  “And you pulled them away from an adult daktar?”

  “I chased it off.”

  Mast paused and reflected.

  “How did two theranaq fall off a tree?” he asked.

  “Just clumsy, I guess.”

  Mast stared at me. “I have heard theranaq called many things,” he said. “Vicious. Territorial. Predatory. But never clumsy.”

  “Well,” I said, “I guess it was my lucky day, then.”

  He stared at me for a full tock, then turned to the other man. “Lamont, go and fetch that elfin guard.”

  “Which one?”

  “The leader, for the Goddess’s sake. Go.”

  Lamont left the wagon. Mast turned back to me.

  “The bounty is fixed,” he said. “I’ll place it on a surety for you.” He pushed papers around the desk and came up with a small slab of metal. “Here.” He pushed it to me.

  I took it and looked at it. “What do I do with this?”

  “Where are you from, the ass end of nowhere? Here—” he took my hand and pressed my thumb into the surface. I felt a slight tingle, and the rectangle flashed once. “—now it’s registered to you.” He placed it back on his desk and tapped it a few times with a metal stylus. “And it’s now loaded with your bounty. Twenty gold, redeemable at any Crown bank. Plenty of those in Vandoran.”

  I nodded my thanks and went to stow the card in my pack.

  “Not so fast. What are you asking for the feathers?”

  I held his gaze directly. “I have no idea what they’re worth. So, here’s what I suggest. You give me a reasonable price. Sooner or later, I’ll find out if you treated fairly.”

  “Good enough.” He reflected. “Twelve gold. I’ll sell them for fifteen in Vandoran, but the extra three is not worth your time.”

  “Deal.” I passed him back the card and he added the extra funds.

  “Now,” he said. “We’ll see how you heal. If you can do it, passage is free. If not, five gold.”

  “Fair.”

  We waited for a few more tocks until the door opened. And in walked an elf.