Trade with Galond is mostly done by sea, rather than land. Any land-bound caravan would have to pass through the highlands in the south, which is a bad route to take. Apart from the poorly maintained roads, the wildness of the area means that it is heavily favoured by bandits.

  Excerpt from 'Living Off The Land: Gerios'

  Under normal circumstances, the small fishing village located beneath the shadow of Rios would be a quiet place. The docks would only hold old, worn fish trawlers, and the pebble roads that connected the docks to the village itself would see few travellers.

  These past days, however, it had been different.

  Felt had climbed into an oak tree on a shallow hill that overlooked the scene in front of her.

  The fishing boats, if they were still present, were obscured by at least six flat-bottom cogs that all bustled with activity as their captains stood on the docks, trading goods with the massive crowd before them. The village itself was completely overrun with refugees from Rios; they had come here because this village was the only location other than Rios where at least the smaller coastal traders that sailed Capital Bay could be unloaded.

  It was a rabid chaos, and Felt could see that each captain had mustered his entire crew to keep the people at bay. Every so often Felt saw people being thrown off the edge of the pier, where they cried for help as most of them could not swim. Luckily for them, a brighter mind had suspended ropes between the piers and the dock, meaning they could cling to these provided their initial struggle allowed them to reach one.

  Felt's stomach growled. She had not eaten properly for three days, but she paid it no heed. Hunger she could deal with, and she wasn't planning on braving the crowd for an overpriced piece of dried fruit.

  She closed her eyes and listened to the Nightsinger. Even here, in this village nearly a day's walk away from Rios, she could hear him.

  “Felt?” a deep male voice came from below. “Why are you up there?”

  “I'm perching,” she answered.

  “With your eyes closed?”

  Grumbling, she opened her eyes and looked down upon the weather-worn face of Kinam, an acquaintance from the old days who currently served as a first mate on one of the village's fishing boats.

  He used to be such a scrawny kid, Felt thought. Now look at him, all scar and muscle.

  When she had arrived here she had run into him through sheer chance, and had pounced on the opportunity. A few runestones passed into the hands of the captain of Kinam's fishing boat and Felt had found a place to stay.

  “Is there something on my face?” Kinam asked with a smirk.

  “Only your ugly mug,” Felt said, climbing down from the tree.

  “That is my face.”

  “I'm glad we agree,” Felt said as she set foot on the ground. “Any news?”

  Kinam shook his head. “The Rosalie is still stuck in the harbour. With all these Galonders here, there isn't enough room to properly navigate out, and the captain is worried that if he leaves his spot will be taken by yet another trader.”

  That suits me just fine. She disliked open water, despite being a decent swimmer, and the thought of having to spend the night at sea made her shudder.

  “Besides,” Kinam continued, “he sold the runestones you gave him, and the coin was more than enough to stay anchored until this all blows over.”

  “That's good to hear,” Felt said. She knew she had greatly overpaid the captain, but at the time she had been too scared and tired to haggle.

  She shuddered again as she recalled the utter terror she had experienced in Rios, running as fast and far away as she could while behind her the Nightsinger sang the song that broke the world. The day after that she barely recalled, as she just kept walking, following the stream of people, while the Nightsinger's song haunted her until she arrived here.

  I have never been that terrified. Never in my entire life. Again she shuddered at the mere memory of the song she had heard.

  “Are you cold?” Kinam asked with a hint of worry.

  “Just hungry,” Felt said, raising her finger. “And no, I don't want your fish. I can't stomach salty foods.”

  “That's why I came looking for you. Gerbrand returned to the village last night and he brought goods with him. Including food.”

  “Who's Gerbrand again?”

  “The village trader. I told you about him.”

  “Didn't you say his shop was trashed?”

  “It was, but apparently he made it out with all his coin at least. So he went somewhere to get more goods.”

  “Got looted and still dumb enough to come back here. That's the trader spirit, alright.”

  “He did take some precautions this time. He boarded up the shop and will only allow people in that he knows.”

  Felt moved her head from left to right and shook her arms and legs to alleviate her stiffness. “Let's go then.”

  As Kinam said, the village shop had been made secure, although only crudely. Planks were nailed across each other at random and the front door was obstructed by a large crate filled with sand.

  “This way,” Kinam said, leading her around to the back where he knocked on the door.

  They waited for a moment until a nearby window shutter opened and a man appeared.

  “Hey, Ingrym. It's me,” Kinam said.

  The shutter closed and shortly after Felt heard the door being unlocked.

  “Hurry,” Ingrym said as he stepped aside, beckoning Felt and Kinam past him.

  Inside the shop it was lighter than Felt expected. Daylight flooded in through the many cracks and gaps between the boarded and shuttered windows, and sun sigils hung from the ceiling, suspended from thin ropes.

  Felt looked around. There were only a handful of people present. She immediately recognized the person behind the counter, a tall man with a sharp jaw and eyes, as Gerbrand on account of his clothing. It was a plain outfit, but still richer than the rags most residents of this fishing village dressed in. The other people appeared to be villagers, just like Ingrym.

  The only person who appeared out of place was a young man with long brown hair that almost hung in front of his eyes. He wore a jute tishe habit tied at the waist with a rope, and was seated on a chair next to a low rack filled with small bottles and pouches.

  Kinam and Felt waited as Gerbrand bickered with the two women in front of the counter. They were haggling about some item, and both fishwives littered their speech with many colourful oaths. Out of habit, Felt took the time to examine every nook and cranny of the shop, yet found nothing out of the ordinary.

  Eventually the fishwives finished, and they left as Kinam stepped up to the counter.

  “Kinam,” Gerbrand said as he inspected the area around Kinam's waist. “Do you have coin?”

  Kinam raised up a small pouch and shook it, making the distinct sound of tinkling metal. “I do.”

  “Good,” Gerbrand said. “I can't stomach any more of you coming in here expecting a hand-out.” He glared at the two women's backs as they stepped outside.

  “That's a bit harsh, Gerbrand,” Ingrym said, closing and locking the door behind them.

  “By the briny depths it is,” Gerbrand bristled. “When that mob of city folk trashed my shop, where was our precious community? Nowhere. That's where.” He spat on the ground beside him. “And now they want stuff for free? They get to come in here, but they will pay just like everyone else.”

  He looked back to Kinam. “There better not only be coppers in that pouch.”

  Kinam smiled and pulled out a coin, revealing the white-gold gleam of a regal.

  Idiot, Felt thought. Don't show him that. Now he'll charge us double for everything.

  Gerbrand perked up considerably at the sight. “Finally. Someone who can actually afford something.” He even managed a smile, revealing a set of yellow teeth.

  Make that triple.

  “This is for the captain. He needs the usual. And we need some food as well.” Kinam glanced at Felt. “Food that isn't fish.”

  “That won't be a problem, I don't think,” Gerbrand said. “Though some of those items are going to be more expensive with the looting and all. The things I returned with weren't items intended for the fleet.”

  “That's fine,” Kinam said.

  Felt rolled her eyes. No, that's not fine, you're getting robbed. She did not say anything, though. If she spoke up here, she would draw needless attention to herself. It's not really a concern of mine anyway.

  “Where did you get that kind of coin?” Ingrym asked as Gerbrand disappeared into the back with one of his employees. “I thought the Rosalie was still docked?”

  “This isn't mine,” Kinam said. “The captain had a windfall recently.”

  Because of me, Felt thought as she wandered through the store, looking around for signs of what kind of foodstuffs Gerbrand had available. Seeing as it's me paying for this, I should at least get some decent food out of this.

  “Looking for something specific?” the tishe asked as Felt came near him. “I have many herbs and roots available to cure rashes and other discomforts.”

  Herbs and roots...

  Felt stared at the bottles without seeing and thought of Cassie. What am I even still doing here? I should be back in Rios chasing down that Hyna scum.

  It was a rhetorical question; she knew why she was here.

  After she had spoken with the Whisper's grandmaster, he had made her a promise that only through complete cooperation would they assist her in finding and retrieving Cassie. Assisting the Royal Guard with the Duster haunts had been the first step in that regard.

  And I blew it. I fled like a scared mouse, and now I'm here idling my time away.

  “Do you have Vrikken fern?” Felt asked, almost without thinking. “Or perhaps Choronia or Tempystus?”

  The tishe inclined his head, seemingly taking her measure.

  “What?” Felt asked as she checked her appearance. She was wearing a dark shirt with long sleeves underneath her leather vest, with matching cotton trousers. Nothing that would make her stand out in any way.

  “Nothing. It's just an odd request.”

  “Do you have any of it or not?”

  “I have some Vrikken fern, but I have to ask. Why do you need it?”

  “That's no concern of yours.”

  “I suppose not, but it's going to be expensive. It's rather rare in these parts.”

  Tell me about it. “How much?”

  “How much do you need?”

  Felt knew buying the fern here wouldn't do her or Cassie any good at all, but she felt compelled to do something all the same. “All you have.”

  “Five regals.”

  Felt's mouth fell agape. “Five?!” she exclaimed, before bringing her hand to her mouth to silence herself. She looked around, but nobody around her paid her any heed. People yelling in outrage is probably a normal thing in this store.

  “I can't afford that,” she said. “And even if I could, I wouldn't pay that unless you had ten barrels full of the stuff.”

  “As I said, it's expensive. Vrikken fern concentrate has a lot of applications.” He held the end of the rope around his waist and rolled it between his finger and thumb. “If you don't have the coin, there might be something else you can do for me.”

  “I'm not giving you any sexual favours.”

  The tishe snickered. “That wasn't what I had in mind. Not that I would pay more than a thaler for someone of your looks.”

  Felt ignored the jibe. “I don't have anything else to trade either.” She had given all the runestones she was willing to part with to Kinam's captain.

  The tishe's right hand disappeared into his left sleeve, and he pulled it out holding a runestone. “This is a voicesphere. I assume you know what this does?”

  Why does he need that? Felt thought. And why would he even have one of those?

  “So,” the tishe said after casting the spell. “I'm willing to give you half of my fern if you retrieve an item for me.”

  “Retrieve? You mean steal, right? And what makes you think I can do that?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “You're a thief, are you not?” the tishe said without blinking. “I noticed you looking around earlier. Checking out all the windows and doors, looking for locations of hidden warning sigils.”

  Krat. He knows, Felt thought, feeling uneasy. Tishes frequently had ties with the underworld. Wanted criminals couldn't use the services of an alluvium, and tishes in turn often required illegal substances. In that regard, it made sense that this man had been able to identify her as a thief, yet he would still need to have excellent observational skills.

  Why is someone like him here in a place with nothing but peons?

  “In addition,” the tishe continued, “there is your request for a strange combination of herbs, which you asked me about without hesitation.”

  “Why is it strange? You know what those three combined do?”

  “Absolutely nothing, as far as I know. Nor do Choronia or Tempystus appear in any recipes that could be even remotely useful to a thief. That's why it's strange.”

  “I'm not going to tell you why I need it.”

  “Nor do you have to. Yet as you didn't deny having at least some experience with item retrieval, I take it this means we have an agreement?”

  Felt debated with herself for a moment. I suppose there is no harm in going along with it. Just to see what he wants. It might even be an easy task.

  “Tell me what it is you want first.”

  “A small distance north of the village, there is a hill where a large group of Dusters have set up. Among them is a family that possesses the item I want. A small pouch, of a similar type to this one.” He held up a green linen pouch with a string tied through the top. “If you can get me that pouch, with its contents, I'll give you half of my Vrikken fern.”

  “What's in the pouch?” Felt asked, still finding it hard to get a measure of the man in front of her.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Considering that there are only dirt-poor cinds on that hill, I find it hard to believe that any one of them could possess something worth several regals.”

  “It's worth that much to me. But only to me.” He stuck out two fingers and arched them slightly. The first step of a two-finger syndicate handshake.

  Felt mulled it over. There is something fishy about all this, she thought. And this person is as much a part of the underworld as anyone I've ever met. Yet despite her reservations, she knew she was going to accept. She had to do something to atone for her cowardly behaviour of the past days. Obtaining the herbs Cassie needs for her salve is a tangible way to progress at least.

  She stuck out two fingers as well, and hooked them into the tishe's before pulling and shaking them three times. Felt was careful not to let her fingers slip as that was considered a bad omen.

  “How do I recognize this family?” Felt asked.

  “They have a white-ash cart with them. The only one on the hill, as far as I could tell. Also, the father is missing two fingers of his left hand.”

  “And the pouch?”

  “In the cart. Hidden beneath some clothes. It's not marked in any way, so if there are more of them you'll just have to take them all.”

  Not going to tell me what's in it, are you? “Okay.”

  “When can I expect results?” the tishe said with a satisfied look.

  “Tomorrow at the earliest.”

  “That's fine. Gerbrand graciously allowed me run my own little shop here, so I will be here for several days.”

  He hid the voicesphere back in his sleeve and Felt walked back over to Kinam, who was paying Gerbrand.

  “Do you need anyone to carry all this stuff?” Gerbrand said as he made a regal and some florins disappear in his clothes. “It's a heavy burden for just two.” He eyed Felt as if trying to determine how well she would do as a mule.

  What is all this stuff? Felt thought. It appeared that Kinam's captain had told him to get enough supplies for the entire year. Two small barrels, three sacks and a crate had been placed on and beside the counter.

  “That would be helpful,” Kinam said.

  Gerbrand beckoned to two of his assistants and Felt picked up one of the barrels as the three men picked up the rest.

  On their way back to the fishing boat, they avoided the mob that was still loudly clamouring in front of the Galond trader ships, arriving at the boat without incident.

  “Excellent,” the captain said as the men stashed the goods. “This calls for a feast.” He appeared very pleased with himself.

  Felt wasted no time; she stuffed herself with dumplings and smoked meat, washing it all down with beer that wasn't close to water.

  Afterwards she lay down on the deck and stared at the seagulls flying overhead.

  Kinam approached her after a while. “Hey. You want to sneak out for a romp?”

  Felt closed her eyes. Of course he had to ask. “Your wife will find out.”

  “Nah, she's too scared to go outside with all them people here.”

  “Still not interested. I had enough hassle with that sort of thing in the past. Remember what happened with that baker?”

  “Awww, come on. Think of all the good times we had.”

  “Good times?” Felt said, staring at him incredulously. “Those very rough and short times, you mean?”

  “I thought you liked it rough.”

  “Sometimes, but not now.” Definitely not now.

  “You'll get right into it once we're naked,” Kinam said, giving her a lecherous wink.

  Felt glared at him. “Not today. I need time to clear my head. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “I'll hold you to that,” Kinam said. He stomped off, pleased with himself.

  Bad luck for you that I won't be here by then.

  The food in her stomach and the rest in the spring sun had cleared her mind. Lingering here wouldn't do her or Cassie any good. Returning to Rios was the only real option she had, no matter how much she dreaded it. The fact that there was a blowout should cut me some slack with the Whisper at least. I just have to get back in their good graces somehow.

  She sat up and stared across the calm ocean. I might even be able to use the Vrikken fern from this job as an excuse. I could claim that I came here to get it.

  She turned her head to look at the village and the hill towards the north-east, where the Dusters had set up their camp. All I have to do is this one little job. Then it's back to Rios in the morning.

  The hill the Dusters had set up on with carts and tents reeked. It was a smell Felt remembered all too well, as it permeated the Bronze Quarter in Rios. It was caused by the habit of a lot of Dusters to wash their clothes with wood-ashes instead of soap or lye.

  Felt hated that smell. It reminded her of her days in the rat pack. The sooner I get this done, the better.

  The shade shroud did its work and Felt easily slipped through the dark spots between campfires. Dusters from different clans never sat close together if there was room, so the campfires were at least thirty paces removed from one another. Further if the two sides belonged to different major clans rather than just minor ones.

  She recognized a handful of the faces gathered around the campfires. They were all people who lived in the Bronze Quarter. Each clan with its own territory.

  After she reached the top of the brush-covered hill, it became obvious how the division had been made. The north-east side of the hill was taken by the Jelabi, while the Bohja held the south-west. Between them was a smattering of other clans that kept the two major groups apart from each other.

  Just like in Rios, Felt thought, observing the spread of fires. Now let's see where this cart is.

  It took her a while, but eventually Felt found the white-ash cart that the tishe had mentioned. It stood at the bottom of the north-west slope of the hill, a good distance away from the rest of the camp. There were only two campfires nearby. One was close to the cart with three figures present, one of which was a child, and there was another larger one further away that was surrounded by six to seven adults.

  Why are they this far away? What clan are they from?

  She crept closer to the larger campfire to listen to their conversation.

  It wasn't long before she gave up. The particular dialect they spoke was not one she recognized. The only thing she could tell from the many gutturals was that they were one of the southern clans. It's similar to what those two guys back at that warehouse spoke.

  She observed the men a while longer, hoping to see a glimpse of a hand with three fingers, yet all of the hands she could see had all their digits intact.

  Never mind that, Felt thought. There is only one white-ash cart on this hill.

  She moved away from the fire and sat down next to a flowering berry-bush to consider the situation. The nagging feeling that the tishe had not told her everything kept pestering her.

  No matter how you look at it, these cinds are your regular street filth. Why would they have anything of value? Are they even from Rios?

  She mulled it over a little more until she realized that doing so would not do her any good. I can guess at reasons until the sun comes up. I'll just have to do it.

  The Nightsinger was silent, much to her relief. Even after focusing to the best of her ability, she could not hear his song at all.

  Emboldened, Felt moved back towards the main campfire. She couldn't wait until they went to sleep as there was a high chance that the women and children would have their beds in the cart, with the men positioned all around it. If she wanted to get that pouch, it should be now, and for that she needed a distraction.

  Because she had given away some of her runestones to the captain of the Rosalie, she had to improvise now.

  This will do, Felt thought, halting at a spot that placed the two campfires between her and the cart.

  The hill was covered with grass and hip-high thorn bushes for the most part, yet with a little digging in the moist ground Felt found the small rocks she needed. After she had gathered a sufficient number of them, she carefully arranged them in a circle underneath a bush. She reinforced the sides with sand, thus forming a small bowl lined with stones.

  Now for the signal stone, Felt thought, reaching into her runepouch.

  She placed the signal stone in the cradle and sent ?ther into a second one that was linked to the first. A distinct clacking sound could be heard as the stone vibrated in its stone cradle.

  Good.

  Moving in a wide arc, she crept around the campfires until she approached the cart from behind.

  One of the sides of the cart was open, but it was turned towards the smaller of the two campfires and the woman and the child sitting there were looking straight at it. Even with a shade shroud, the nearby fire was too close for Felt to hide herself entirely.

  I hope they didn't bother with a warning sigil, Felt thought. She didn't have her scrying stones with her, but chances were good that none of these people could channel to begin with.

  Again, she listened for any sign of the Nightsinger and clasped her ear, yet only silence reached her. Better make this as quick as possible, though.

  She crept closer to the cart until she was right next to it. The sides of it reached up to her chest, so she was just tall enough to reach inside.

  Making sure she kept the cart between her and the campfire, she peeked inside.

  It was a mess. Clothes and other items were spread out at random, and various bags and sacks were placed against the sides.

  Felt licked her teeth. Searching all this is going to take time.

  The signal stone lay comfortably in her hand and awaited her signal, charged and ready.

  From her current position Felt couldn't hear the clacking of the signal stone she had hidden back beneath the bush, but it didn't take long for one of the men at the campfire to hush the others. Without their voices, the night became quiet and Felt could now hear, very faintly, the sound the signal stone made as it trembled inside its stone cradle.

  The woman that was watching the cart now turned around to see what was happening, yet Felt waited. As long as her legs faced towards the cart, she could turn around at any moment.

  Felt changed the signal, interrupting it at random to make the result sound unnatural. This had the desired effect, as she saw several of the men rise up. One of them took a few steps in the direction of the sound.

  “What's going on?” the woman asked in her heavily accented Enti, turning the rest of her body.

  Now.

  Felt reached over the side of the cart and began her search, tossing aside cloth and feeling the sides of the bags. Her first sweep found nothing, and she retracted her arms before sending out another signal.

  Two of the men started to move in the direction of the clacking. One of the others, however, was looking in the direction of the cart.

  That's not good.

  The reason she had set up the distraction like this was simple. If she had used something flashy and loud instead, there would have been a good chance that, rather than heading for the sound, the men would have run to the cart instead to secure its valuable cargo. Only by creating a strange and not immediately threatening sound would she be able to keep them occupied long enough. Or at least, that was the plan.

  One of the men had told the woman to hush, and she now got up and walked in the direction of the other fire, her child holding her hand beside her.

  Felt moved forward two steps and thrust her arms into the cart again. She wasn't wearing gloves, and some of the items possessed a sticky wetness that made her skin crawl. Then she grabbed a cloth sack, and upon inspection noticed it contained several roundish objects. She pinched one of them and her fingers slowly sank into the object like moving one's fingers through fine sand.

  This might be it.

  After ensuring that the Dusters were still suitably distracted, she pulled the bag towards her. It was tied shut, yet with a knot that untangled easily. Inside, she found what she was hoping for: several small cloth pouches of various colours, each tied shut with a thick thread.

  Felt lifted the entire bag out of the cart. There wasn't time to see which one was the right one by comparing their appearances.

  As she turned, she crashed into something.

  With a loud exclamation of pain, the person she had crashed into stumbled backwards and Felt instantly knew who he was. It was the third person who had been sitting at the nearby campfire. The cart itself had obscured him from sight, thus allowing him to sneak up on Felt without her noticing.

  The orange light that washed over his face showed that he was a boy in his teens, yet big enough to be a man. If this turned into a struggle, Felt knew she wouldn't win.

  On the other side of the cart, Felt heard voices yelling. She glanced at the second campfire and saw that the man who had been eyeing the cart was now running towards them.

  Time to go.

  She tried to bolt past the boy, yet he appeared to have figured out that someone was there. He reached out and managed to grab one of Felt's arms tightly.

  “Help! Thief! Thief!” he yelled in Enti. Those were words Felt did understand.

  With the sound of running footsteps coming ever closer, she wasted no time. With a deft spin she buried her knee into the boy's side.

  He went down like a sack of potatoes, releasing her arm as he hit the ground.

  “Don't touch me, you filthy cind,” Felt hissed before she kicked him in the head once.

  All the frustration and anger she had accumulated over the past weeks found a release, and she kicked him twice more with all her might before she regained control again and fled away into the darkness.

  Behind her, the men reached the cart and the boy, yelling things Felt couldn't understand. She circled around them without worry. Despite the lack of cloud cover, the Light Moon was obscured completely, which left only the minimal light of the Dark Moon and stars. Unless somebody shone a sun sigil at her directly, nobody would see her, no matter how fast she ran.

  The men that had gone after the sound of the signal stone had joined the men at the cart, allowing Felt to retrieve her signal stone without incident.

  Behind her she could hear a woman crying, and the voices of the men turned to anger. Felt saw that two of them were kneeling down around the boy, who remained motionless on the ground.

  Not how I planned it, but I got what I came for, Felt thought as she eyed the bag she held. The only thing left now is to make the trade tomorrow.

  The darkness swallowed her whole once more.

  The next morning, Felt banged on the door of the shop. Like last time, the shutter swung open and Ingrym appeared.

  “You?” he said. “Where's Kinam?”

  “Not with me. I have a deal with the tishe.” Should have asked what his name was.

  Ingrym closed the shutter, leaving Felt to wait. Then the lock was turned and the door opened. She was shown into the shop, where the tishe was waiting.

  “You're early,” the tishe said, reaching into his sleeve.

  Felt approached him and held out the bag as she waited for him to cast the Voicesphere spell.

  “Now then,” the tishe said. “Did you get what I wanted?”

  “You tell me,” Felt said, handing him the bag.

  A smile appeared on the tishe's face as he inspected the contents. “Yes, this appears to be it.” He raised his finger. “I just need to make certain you didn't double-cross me.”

  How would I do that? I don't even know what's supposed to be in those pouches.

  The tishe stuck both his hands in the bag, so Felt wouldn't be able to see what he was doing.

  “Excellent,” he said, his face flushed with excitement. “I knew I was right about you. Did anyone see you?”

  Felt ignored the question and stuck out her hand. “My pay.”

  “Of course,” the tishe said. He leaned backwards and picked up a small bottle on the shelf behind him. “This is all the Vrikken fern I have, so I'll weigh half of it.”

  “That's all?” Felt said dumbfounded, staring at the bottle that was as tall as her little finger and only three times its width.

  “This is a substantial amount, I assure you,” the tishe said, as he picked up another bottle; this one was half empty. “The only place you'll find more of this is in Hertwolf. They grow it there. Choronia too, for that matter.”

  “Really?” Felt said as she observed the transfer of the fern from one bottle to the other.

  “They could probably cultivate Tempystus there as well with some effort. But for that particular item, you are probably better off trying Vedburg or Tasselhane. It's imported from the Dust Empire where they call it Hashim, as you probably know.”

  Felt simply nodded. Hertwolf has all this stuff? I must keep that in mind.

  The tishe finished filling the bottle and placed the cap on it. He then held up both bottles in front of Felt so she could see the contents had been equally distributed.

  Dark-green flakes, Felt thought. At least it looks right. Back in Rios, despite not being able to find any of the herbs, she did learn what the appearance of the respective ingredients was supposed to be.

  The tishe placed the recently filled bottle in her hand and Felt closed her fingers around it. The glass was cold to the touch, and Felt wondered if what she held here was one of the things that could cure Cassie.

  “I want the rest back,” Felt said as she put the bottle in her pocket.

  The tishe looked confused. “The rest?”

  “The other pouches. Our agreement was for one only. Take that one, and give me back the rest.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Felt again stretched out her hand. “It's either that or twenty florins.”

  The tishe chuckled. “So that's what it's about? You want some coin as well? Very well, I'll give you five florins for the rest. And considering that you have no idea what's in there or its value, I suggest you take it.”

  “Double it or return it,” Felt said. “Maybe Gerbrand will make me a better offer.”

  The tishe shook his head, but did so with a smile on his face. “Very well, ten florins.”

  He reached into the right-hand sleeve of his habit this time and retrieved a small coin purse.

  That's a fancy item for a tishe, Felt thought, noticing the fine leather. He's with a syndicate, alright. Even so, it was no longer of any concern to her. For all she knew, the people she had robbed were part of a syndicate as well. It wasn't uncommon for them to use unaffiliated people to perform sensitive operations so that they couldn't be fingered if the job went sour. It's that or a personal grudge of some sort. Either way, I'm done here.

  She accepted the coin and left the shop without exchanging any more words with the tishe or anyone else. Outside, she went back to the tree where she had hidden the sack of goods she had lifted from the Rosalie.

  Kinam won't be happy about this. Serves him right for trying to cheat on his wife.

  She tightened the rope, swung the sack over her shoulder, and started down the road that led back to Rios.