Tom and Diavla got up very late. Tom didn't feel guilty about the self-indulgence, because they had been traveling for over a week, and were mostly going to be sitting around and waiting for a few days. When they came downstairs, they found that Kervan, Arven and Eubexa had already eaten a breakfast made out of food they still had in their packs.

After a brief discussion, the elves decided to take Tom up on his offer to go run errands while they all stayed in. He made several trips to the well, bringing in enough water so that all the elves could get the dirt of the road off without visiting a public bath. Next, he went out and found a meat vendor, then brought back nine hot skewers. Eubexa ate three, Tom and Arven had two each, and Diavla and Kervan took the last couple. He also stopped by the market for eggs and a few other foods that didn't travel well and brought them to the house.

After that, he got Arven to describe to him in as much detail as possible where he had stashed his pack outside the town. They debated making a show of him and Arven going out, and then coming back with his collar on, but it didn't seem necessary. The guard had given him twenty-four hours to get a new collar on Arven, and he was of course responsible for Arven and anything he did in the meantime. Any exposure of the elves more than necessary seemed like asking for trouble.

It took Tom over an hour to find it, despite Arven's efforts to describe the location and Eubexa translating. As usual, it turned out to be in one of the first places he looked, yet he had somehow missed it. Not until he was double-checking the whole area did he see it again and recognize it. I hate it when that happens. Maybe I should have brought him along.

He brought the pack back to the house, and checked on the elves. They wanted more water, so he made trips to the well, while he thought about his next steps. Then, he talked things over with the others.

"Arven, are you sure you don't want to visit the Temple for healing?"

Arven nodded. "I'll wait for Sheema," he mumbled. Tom winced, but nodded his acceptance.

"All right, the two most urgent things are talking to the Keep, and selling the salt. My instincts are always to get business deals done before the government sticks its nose in. Also, it's only a matter of time before another merchant shows up with a delivery of salt, so the sooner we sell it, the better."

He cleared his throat. "Another instinct I have is to look poor when I'm buying, and rich when I'm selling. Does that make sense to people?"

"Of course," Eubexa said at once, and the others rapidly agreed.

"All right. Now, despite the hostility towards elves in town, the best way for me to appear rich is to have a couple of you along pretending to be my property. Diavla, Kervan, are you all right with accompanying me? Arven, Eubexa, I assume that you'd rather stay here?"

Arven looked like he was considering a protest, glancing at Diavla. He mumbled something in Elvish Tom couldn't make out, but Diavla's response was clear. "I'll be fine."

Eubexa was most emphatic about wanting to stay in the house. "If violence broke out, people might rip my veil off, or worse, they might touch my skin, by accident or not."

"That makes sense. Don't worry, I've got enough Elvish, and Diavla and Kervan are both clever, so we can get by without you for a bit," Tom reassured her.

"Tom, we wear armor? Maybe humans fight?" Kervan asked.

Tom thought it over a moment, eyeing Diavla in particular. "The two of you in your leathers, I think. I'll be dressed up without my armor."

"That makes sense."

"I don't like the idea of angry men leering at you in your dress," Tom admitted to his lover. "You look amazingly sexy in leathers, too, but at least you'll be better protected this way."

Diavla was already smiling, but turned to Eubexa to hear the translation, probably making sure she got it right. Then she turned back and nodded. "Thank you, Tom. Saa... Master. I should practice."

Arven mumbled something Tom couldn't catch, and Diavla turned crimson. "We'll leave together, so let me know when you're ready," he told them both, deliberately ignoring the byplay. He headed to his room to put on his best set of clothes again.

Got to do laundry tonight, he reminded himself. He already felt like a pretentious clothes-horse for having three full outfits, but couldn't help wishing for more just so he wouldn't have to wash clothes so often. I can see how so many noble children waste all their gold.

When he returned a few minutes later, Kervan and Diavla were back, wearing their slave collars and leather armor. Kervan had his daggers, while Diavla had a spear and an odd bundle at her hip. Squinting, Tom realized that it was a small fishing net, one of the ones Orvan had picked up in Rivermarch.

That's actually really smart in this environment—a non-lethal way to get violence under control. Don't know how she keeps it from getting tangled, though. As for the spear, it just seems to be her favorite weapon. It's good that one of them has a weapon with a long reach, too. Anyone with any sense of strength will avoid picking a fight with us.

"Ready? Let's go!" Tom waited by the door for them. Diavla and Kervan came up to him and stopped.

"Tom—Master," Diavla said, "you go...saa...one?" She muttered something in Elvish.

"'First'," Eubexa supplied.

"First, yes, first." Diavla looked annoyed with herself for forgetting the word. "Master go first, then slaves."

Tom sighed and nodded. "You're right. Sorry about this. Thank you for playing along." He stepped out onto Summer Street, hearing Eubexa translate that last into Elvish just before Diavla and Kervan followed him.

He looked around, checking the few passersby for hostility. Just about everyone was staring at the elves, but only one man had his face twisted into a snarl of hate at the moment. Tom kept a discreet eye on him as they made their way to the west gate.

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The gate guard was named Geoff, Tom recalled. He was a surly man, and Tom had to wonder whether he was possessed by a hate demon. If so, this isn't his fault. Or partly, at least, if it's just influencing him. If the amulets cured possession, I'd loan him mine, but all it will do is make it stop getting worse, and I need the protection. If anything happens to me, the elves are in big trouble.

"Where's the sneak?" Geoff demanded, after looking over Diavla and Kervan.

"At home, being punished," Tom told him. The man got a nasty smile.

"Give him some extra for me."

"Will do. It's nice when the guards hate the same people I do," Tom joked.

"Some people will get what's coming to them."

"Wouldn't that be grand? May the gods help us out with that. Oh, we'll be in and out of town a few times today. Talk to you later, Geoff." Tom kept the smile fixed on his face until he was well past, not looking back.

"Tom!" Kervan hissed. "The guard stop Diavla."

Tom felt his emotions churn his soul, but disciplined himself to keep acting as he turned around. "DIAVLA! GET OVER HERE! KEEP UP, YOU...!" He couldn't get any more words out, couldn't bring himself to insult his lover even as a ploy, but what he said was enough. The guard thought Tom was blaming Diavla, and let her past, probably enjoying her discomfiture.

"Sorry, Master!" she shouted as ran up to him. Thank you, he saw her mouth say silently. He pretended his scowl was for her and faced forward again, glad Kervan had warned him. If that bastard hurt her, I'm going to make him suffer for it.

She insisted that she was fine when he asked, so Tom kept going. It wasn't far until they turned south and started around the town wall. Their first destination was Steven Hides' Tannery. It was the smallest of the four, from what Tom had gathered at the tavern. The smell was fairly bad on approach, but he disciplined himself not to react too obviously. He was about to pound on the door frame when a man with dark brown hair and stains on his hands and apron came out.

"Yes?" the man asked immediately. He peered at Diavla and Kervan, but seemed only curious, not hostile.

"Are you Steven Hides?"

"I am. Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Looking to sell you some salt, actually. Just got into town with a partial wagonload."

Hides' eyes lit up. "Finally! I was starting to wonder. Welcome, Mister...?"

"Tom Walker."

"What happened to Steward?"

"Who's that, your regular supplier?"

"Yeah. He didn't send you?"

Tom shook his head. "No, I just bought up all the salt I could in Rivermarch, and figured I'd go town to town until I sold it all. I'm looking to sell standard weight bags. How many do you need?"

"Depends on the price."

"After the hassle on the road getting it here, I'm looking for ninety silver per bag."

Hides winced. "I can't afford to buy at that price. I usually pay Steward seventy silver."

Tom snorted. "That's a lot lower than the price in Rivermarch. I can't come down much or I'll lose money on this deal. But I'll knock a silver off—two silver if you buy more than twenty bags."

"What could I get for seventy-five silver?"

Tom just shook his head.

"Seventy-eight?"

"That's still less than I paid."

"Then I'd say you got robbed, Mister Walker."

"I'd believe that. Still leaves me with salt that I need to turn a profit on. I'll come down to eighty-seven, eighty-six if you buy twenty bags or more."

"Eighty? Surely you didn't pay that much?"

"Not quite, but selling at eighty wouldn't even pay for the trip here. Eighty-six or eighty-five."

"What can I get for eighty-one silver?"

Tom shrugged. "I don't want you to have to shut down, so I'd sell a couple of bags at that price. But surely you want more than that? Two bags probably won't last you until the next shipment, whenever that finally happens."

"Eighty-two?"

Tom hesitated, radiating uncertainty, wincing. "I'll do eighty-five, eighty-four if you buy twenty or more. I can't go lower."

"Eighty-three."

Tom scowled. "How many bags would you buy at that price?"

"I'd buy the twenty bags. I honestly can't afford to buy more, Mr. Walker. Twenty is all I need at the moment, and I can make it stretch until the next shipment."

"I am not cut out to be a merchant," Tom complained bitterly. "All right. Twenty bags at eighty-three and a half silver each?"

Hides hesitated, then nodded. "Done."

They shook hands.

"I'll bring the twenty bags in a couple of hours. You'll have payment ready? That's..."

"Six and ten gold, seven tens silver, Master," Kervan spoke up.

"That sound right to you?" Tom asked the tanner.

"It's right," Hides said confidently. "I'll have your sixteen gold, seventy silver ready when you come by."

"All right if I count it out when you give it to me?"

"Sure. All right if I weigh the bags when you deliver?"

Tom grinned and nodded.

"Good. You're an honest one. Don't feel bad, son, you drove a hard bargain."

"I'll have to drive harder ones for the other tanners now. You were my first stop."

Hides grinned. "Well, if that's the case, visit Biff's Tannery last if you can."

"I'll do that. No love lost there?"

"Not a bit."

"All right. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"See you then."

Tom led them away and headed for the next tannery. Pretty sure that's almost exactly what he pays the regular supplier, since he knew the number was right.

The second tannery was also on the small side, and Tom agreed to sell twenty bags for sixteen gold, eighty silver.

The third tannery was bigger, and tried to drive a harder bargain due to size. Tom held firm, and sold thirty bags at eighty-five silver each.

Finally, Biff's Tannery demanded forty bags, and wanted to pay only seventy-six silver. Tom explained repeatedly that he only had twenty bags left. Biff kept arguing, apparently believing that Tom was holding out and had extra bags available that he wasn't mentioning.

"Look, Mr. Tanner, I wish I had the forty bags, but all I've got left is twenty, really. I'd gladly sell you forty bags if I had them, but I don't. This is the last of my stock."

"I'm not paying ninety-five!"

"Look, I sympathize. I'll come down to ninety-three."

"That's still outrageous."

"Look, I'm already heading for Southby next and I know I'll get that price or better there. I was hoping to sell here, but salt doesn't go bad. I've got to make a profit, after all."

"I'll pay seventy-eight."

"Then you'll pay someone else." Tom's instincts told him that this deal was not going to happen. Biff was barely budging, and really would deprive Tom of any significant profit at this rate. "Look, I can see we're not coming to an agreement, so I'll take my leave."

They continued dickering for a while longer, and Tom really was giving up and leaving when Biff surprisingly demanded eight bags of salt. Tom got ninety silver each, because it was clear that Biff really needed the eight bags immediately. When they shook on the deal, Biff tried to crush Tom's hand. Tom demonstrated why that was a mistake, then left with a smile as Biff subtly massaged life back into his hand.

Not the sharpest tool in the shed, that one. I'm built like a blacksmith, he's built more like a long-retired sellsword. What did he think was going to happen?

Surprisingly, Tom didn't feel a sense of panic once the deal was done. He didn't need to hide and breathe heavily after the act, the way he sometimes did. Maybe I'm getting used to this? That would be nice.

Kervan and Diavla started a conversation in Elvish as soon as they started walking back into the town. It went a little fast for Tom to follow, but apparently Kervan was running the numbers and sounded pleased with their profit so far. When they were almost in earshot of the gate guard, Tom warned them, "Quiet down until we're back inside. Quiet." They walked up in silence.

"Back already?" the guard asked as they approached.

"Already? It felt like forever," Tom grumbled. "And that was the easy part. Now I have to deliver. Some days, I wish I was still a town guardsman. See you soon, Geoff—Come on, you two! Why can't you keep up?" he half-shouted at the elves. "Move!" He turned and stalked off, pretending to be angry with them. That gave them the excuse to rush past the guard, leaving him no time to think about waylaying Diavla again.

All right, maybe now I need to breathe in an alley or something, but I had better wait until we're home.

He quickened his pace, feeling the strain.

This is going to be a nerve-wracking week.

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