Returned to the North, still conjoined with Sandrelessa, it is time for Drake to resume his interrupted studies. After a summer of learning more about what he had always dreamed of becoming, it was almost possible to forget what he had become.

If only everybody else were so able to segment him into his various selfs.

Adventures of a Merchant: Dance with a Demon
by Arcie Emm

See Prior Adventures of a Merchant:

1. The Start
2. A Pause in Corels
3. Choices

Thank you to Hope Eternal Reigns whose editing so often causes me to embarrassedly exclaim, Doh!

A tale untold is like jewelry unsold, precious and shining gloriously, only for its owner. With my writing contract not extended after my third tale, combined with an inability to find new takers for it, I began to wonder if my story was like a ring on a charlatan’s finger, large and gaudy, implying an undeserved worth to its owner.

Most depressing were these thoughts. Bad enough being unable to sell the goods from your inventory, but when those unwanted goods are your own stories, it is embarrassing. In defeat, I scurried away from the world of writing, focusing on my first love, my truest love, the art of the deal. It welcomed me warmly, gathering me in and making me question why I had ever strayed from the comfort of its embrace. Soon I had mostly forgotten about my endeavors with the quill, even convincing myself that I was content with the way things had worked out, that I had returned to my true purpose.

Then upon returning from my last trip to the Kingdom, I found a missive waiting from my former editor, who, along with some others, had started a new journal and were interested in publishing more of my adventures. Despite thinking that writing was behind me, my excitement at this news was undeniable. Excitement dampened upon learning that they wanted something right now, with right now equating to before I return to the road in a couple of weeks.

The difficulty with that request is that I am not the quickest writer. The act can be downright painful, so much so, that friends have told me that they would rather be around a cat giving birth to a calf, than me writing one of my tales.

So though my original plan involved writing about the months after I first visited Glanlies, dwelling on all that I had learned and saw during that summer, it would take too long to write. Thus my decision to focus on a single day, believing that penning a tale for such a time frame, in such a time frame, was doable. That decision made, there was only one day I could choose, one near the end of the summer and unlike all the others.

It was an important day.

I think.

***

It really was the most excellent day, one where the shining sun was chased by enough clouds to provide periodic relief from the heat. Even the prior night’s rain had stopped before turning the path to mud, instead it served to keep down the dust that could have been kicked up by the wheels and horses of my wagon train.

Yes, my wagon train.

Admittedly it was not a large train, consisting only of three wagons, their drivers, and six guards. But it was the first one where I was in charge, it contained no journeymen, no senior wagoners, not even one of the corporals. Though just a regular run, serving the small farming communities dotting the land around Elladoo Post, still I felt proud to have been entrusted with the task. And if one looked in the back of any of the carts, they would judge it a task well done.

Constant checking and rechecking meant that not only did I provide great entertainment for the veteran crew accompanying me, but that I intimately knew each wagon’s contents. The majority of the trade goods, originally accompanying us from the fort, were gone, in their place were recently harvested vegetables, probably destined for the Hanglish mines or North Fort. Meanwhile, our real treasures were to be found in chests stored beneath each wagon’s seat. Inside could be found collections of seeds, leaves, roots, bark and flowers from any number of herbs and plants that were in demand from the apothecaries in the Southern cities. I hoped that Master Elladoo would allow me to manage their dispersal upon my return to Glanlies for the winter, believing that it would be a good way to continue my summer’s education.

Education that had been the foundation of Master Elladoo’s plan to keep me too busy to worry about my afflictions. He had proceeded with my apprenticeship, just as if I had not been changed from his apprentice boy into an attractive, tow-headed girl, who happened to be conjoined with a bloodthirsty demoness. When that plan met with skepticism from Mistress Elladoo and myself, we received a rare reminder as to who was in charge as I found myself part of the work crew, under Durk, heading to Many Song Post.

It proved that he, who had been my teacher for a number of years, had not been duped into forgetting who I had been or assuming that I had completely changed. He believed things were going too fast, that the excitement and attention in Glanlies had gone to my head, and that I was in need of some grounding. Durk was assigned that task.

Now in my prior writings, I have probably been unfair in my descriptions of Durk, having him always come off second best to Clara. Yet how can you compare rock to fire, their strengths are needed at different times. For the next month I learned the way of the rock, while serving as its assistant. It proved exhausting. Durk was a large man, muscled not fat, who seemingly had boundless energy, allowing him to continuously move about the construction site ensuring everything went to plan. And except when he had me running an errand, I was always at his side. Actually, since I was barely over chest high to the man, despite being tall for my new gender, it was more like I scurried along a step or two behind.

Nor was it just my legs that were exercised, as he had always been my most demanding instructor. Our endless trek, around the site, was accompanied by constant explanations of what needed to be done, why it was needed, who would do it, and how it would be done. Or he would talk of the tribes and their history or villages and their headsmen. Then, at any moment, I had to be prepared for quizzes about what he told me, that day or the one before.

Each night I was glad to crawl into the blankets, underneath my tent’s roof, and sleep until morning. Little time or energy existed for thinking about my state or missing the luxury that had grown almost normal in Glanlies.

Not that I could completely ignore my changes. For instance, with it being summer, all the men slept under tarps, instead of inside a tent. But for me, even though muggy and often less comfortable than outside, the mistress had deemed that I should have a tent and this time she was right. As one of the few females in camp, the other two being a pair of entrepreneurs-of-the-sheets who followed the work crew from Glanlies, quite a bit of attention was directed towards me, though it was controlled attention. I was protected by both my colleagues and my own fearsome reputation, but the privacy of the tent often brought relief.

The experience also forced me to deal with my situation myself, with no maidservants to show me the way or do it for me. With little time to make things into a big deal, I just learned to make due. An example being, when I finally needed to do something with my hair, one of the summer-hire guardsmen taught me how to put it in a warrior’s braid.

Master Elladoo was proven correct in his methods. My confidence improved as I was immersed in what I wanted to do with my life. Every caravan, I took part in after returning from the construction site, further brought that home, none more than this current one.

It was great fun and I was not sure if I wanted it to end. So on that lovely day I had decided to just enjoy the sun and found myself upon the bench of one of the wagons. For it is easier to travel with your eyes closed, when someone else is in charge of getting you where you need to go. Not that it was unusual for me to spend as much time riding a bench as my horse, for my newly gained rejuvenation powers made it impossible for me to develop the iron butt that allowed others to spend hour upon hour in the saddle.

Which is why my seat-mate noticed the approaching figure first, causing him to nudge me awake as he said, “Missy Drake, Felix is on his way back.”

No longer bothered by any of the frequently used, feminine titles I looked up to see Felix heading towards us at a trot. Calmed by his pace, realizing his speed meant nothing was overly awry, I nonetheless wondered what would bring him back to us during the day. Doubtless it was a good reason, because the man tried to stay as far away from the rest of us as possible, believing that would keep him away from command of our small guard detachment. A role he refused to accept, even though his experience and skills meant he was the man for the job. In this he was little different than the rest of those making up our train, a group who lacked ambition despite their competence. Able though Felix was, more able in fact than me, he preferred others to make the decisions.

Pulling up, beside the cart upon which I sat, Felix nodded a greeting and explained, “A band of Roamers are camped at Endorn Glade, they had this missive for you from Master Elladoo.”

Catching the small piece of rolled-up parchment, tossed in my direction, I unrolled it.

Drake, meet Gillan Meryers at Endorn Glade. Sell him, at 22 copper per pound, as many vegetables as you can - Elladoo

Despite being only a half a day away from Carlysle, the last village in which we spent the prior night, Endorn Glade was the standard overnight stop before the final push to Elladoo Post, which itself was only two-thirds of a day further along. Master Elladoo had implemented the rule, because he did not want his wagon trains trying to squeeze the trip into a single day, which could lead to broken axles and injured horses. Not that anyone had a problem with camping at the glade, formed within a bend of Falim Creek, which fed into the Rillian, it was a wonderful camping spot.

“Well Tavis, it looks like your ladies will have a lighter load tomorrow. Felix let everyone know that there are Roamers at the glade and pass on all of Sergeant Hussel’s usual reminders about dealing with them.”

Those reminders were based entirely around being cautious around the Roamer’s womenfolk, for their men were fiercely protective of those beauties. A group that I knew included one of the ladies of my dreams, Filice, Gillan’s daughter. Sighing at what never would have been, even without my change, I pulled on my riding boots, unhitched the reins of my horse from a hook behind me, pulled myself into its saddle, and thanked Tavis for the ride.

“Not a problem thing Missy Drake, it makes me the envy of all the boyos when you sit beside me.”

***

When the wagons were a couple of miles short of Endorn Glade, Felix and Jimi - who had accompanied me everywhere that summer acting uncomplainingly as my bodyguard, joined me as I rode ahead to finalize arrangements with the Roamers. Entering the glade, just before mid-day, we found it contained twenty-eight brightly painted, living wagons set-up in a rather permanent looking camp. Apparently they had spent some days waiting for our appearance, though the number of deer carcasses hanging from pole frames proved that the wait had been worthwhile.

At the edge of their camp we were met by four men, one taking the reins of our horses as we dismounted and nodded respectfully towards Gillan Meryers. Smiling at me, he returned a lesser nod, before saying, “Greetings Apprentice Drake, I see that the rumours we heard do hold some truth.”

“There is doubtless much exaggeration in what you heard Headman.”

“I am not so sure, for you are lovely as was told.”

Unprepared for such blatant flirtation, I moved the conversation back to areas of comfort. “Umm...thank you. I received Master Elladoo’s note, which stated that you seek to purchase vegetables from us?”

“Yes we do. Whenever my people try to purchase directly from the villagers they try to drive up the price between families. Better to deal with your master, who sells to us at a standard price of 20 copper per pound.”

“I’m sorry Headman Meryers, but Master Elladoo informed me I was to accept nothing less than 25 copper.”

Smiling unabashedly at his failed ruse, he looked down at me and while making me wish I had not left the laces at the neck of my blouse so loose, said, “Maybe 22 coppers? I am sure Elladoo, being such a reasonable man, would accept that price.”

“Maybe if we sold enough it would be acceptable.”

“I am sure that we will leave your carts mostly empty.”

“Very well then, 22 copper it is. Where would you like us to set up our carts?”

“Freido will show you where and provide payment once everyone has made their selections. Then would you and your men be interested in looking through our wares or seeking the services of one of our craftsmen?”

Despite what you will hear in the cities, the Roamers are not thieves and laze-abouts. Instead they are tinkers, leather-workers, tailors, and the like who sell their services to the small communities of the frontier. Others are musicians, dancers, and actors who provide news and entertainment to the same customers. Doubtless the members of our caravan would be interested in the services of the first group, while hoping to be entertained by the second. I know I was.

“If they wish.”

“Excellent and in the evening you must all join us around the bonfire. There will be dancing.”

“We would enjoy that Headman Meryers.”

Soon afterwards, the carts arrived and while the guards set up camp, the wagoners began to assist the Roamer women fill baskets with vegetables. These were then brought to Freido and I, each with our own scale, where we noted the weight of the basket before its contents were emptied into burlap bags carried to each wagon by the young men of the families. Unlike our men, they apparently had not received any warnings about the amount of attention to pay to the other side’s womenfolk. Since that meant me, it was sometimes difficult to focus on my task, especially when Freido decided that our scales matched and that he may as well help the young men, though not with the carrying.

However, beyond the unwanted attention, everything went smoothly, leaving less than a wagon full of vegetables unsold. Finished our sales, I advanced each of us some of our salary, noting down each amount, to spend amongst the Roamers. Then detailing guard duties, headed towards the colourful camp.

Crossing the grounds between the two camps we were met by a number of the large wolfhounds that were always the companions of the Roamers. Fortunately they were well behaved, because they were massive dogs, particularly the chest high, light grey beast who claimed my side as its own. However, there were none of the children that I had come to expect in their camps, though that absence was explained away by shrieks and yells in the distance, which implied they were making use of the pools that made the glade such a fine camping location, probably chaperoned by the older girls, who were also absent.

Reaching the wagons, our group split. The guards headed towards the metal workers to have their swords sharpened, for the Roamers were known to create the finest edges on blade in the Peninsula. Meanwhile, the wagoners sought the leather workers for repairs to their tack.

Not having drawn my sword since I purchased it, nor having put significant wear upon my tack, neither path interested me. Instead my focus dwelt upon obtaining gifts of thanks to take with me to Glanlies, an idea encountered in the Annals, approved by the Mistress, and made possible by my share of the proceeds from the sale of the booty from the bandit’s camp. Still, as a rather unworldly fifteen year old, I had no ideas of what to buy. So I asked my shadow.

“Who you buying for again?” Jimi asked.

“Lord and Lady Deglace, for being my hosts. Then there is Julion, Magister Bewlmon, and Archmage Sharlese for all they did to help me. Finally I would like to get something for Mary, who was my rock in the early days after my change.”

After a few moments of thought, Jimi said, “I don’t know about most of ‘em, but I got ideas for the Master Deglaces.”

“You do? That would be a great start.”

“Well when we was back in the City I ended up on escort duty with Master Hiram and noticed that he always had a walking stick. Different ones too, so we could check with Old Abner. Then you can get some arrow shafts from Young Abner, since Master Julion is an avid archer and he is bound to appreciate Roamer made shafts.”

Thinking both of those were fine ideas, we set out to find the large, green and yellow wagon that was the home of the woodworking family Abners where I engaged the elder and Jimi the younger. As Abner laid twelve walking sticks upon a table beside his wagon I tried to remember my little knowledge about walking sticks and Master Deglace, it was all rather minimal. Though my impressions of the man led me to believe he would prefer something plain and elegant, rather than coarse and gaudy.

With this perspective, I mentally made a selection. Yet as you surely know, it puts one in a poor bargaining position to immediately point at your choice and state you want it. Only after getting the price of two others, did I ask about the one that had caught my eye.

A glint in Abner’s eye told me he was not fooled. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she Miss. Carved from a nicely grained piece of black gramblenut wood, varnished its natural colour, tipped in beaten and polished tin, and with a handle covered in shark skin. Being such a lovely example of the walking stick art, one that any gentleman worthy of the title would be proud to own, means that I could only part with it for 1 gold 25 silver.”

An insane price, barely less than I paid for my sword, and both of us knew it. However, while he saw it as the opening to a good haggle, I decided to follow in the footsteps of my summer’s teacher. Being less fleet of tongue than others, Durk was not big on bargaining, deeming it a social activity that led to exaggeration and theatrics, neither of which he particularly enjoyed. For this reason, he would not even begin to bargain unless the price he heard was somewhat reasonable, so I just nodded my head and began asking the price of other sticks.

After a slight hesitation Abner preceded to tell me the price of the rest of the sticks, placing four within the 40 - 60 silver price range the mistress and I had agreed would be appropriate for the thank you gifts, based upon my station and wealth. Separating these from the rest, I studied and tested each, finding that a white oak piece, the cheapest of the four, felt the best in my hands.

Noticing that the oak stick kept finding its way into my hands, Abner asked, “Excuse me Miss, maybe I could provide further assistance in your choice. Do you seek one for your own use?”

“Nay I am looking for a gift.”

“For a man or a woman?”

“A man.”

“Ahh, I was wondering, because most men would find the stick you hold to be overly fine.”

Confused, since it seemed to be the plainest of the bunch, I said, “But it hardly has any decorations.”

“Not that type of fine Miss. Here hold up your hand, see how much smaller it is than mine? Well we men find a lady’s stick, like that one, too thin for comfort. We need something more solid.”

Feeling embarrassed, despite the logic in my finding a woman’s walking stick the most appropriate, I blurted, “Lord Deglace does have quite large hands.”

“Lord Hiram Deglace?” Seeing my reluctant nod, he continued, “Well that changes everything. He is a collector and you can’t just give him any walking stick. The only one worthy of his ownership is this one.”

Cursing the slip of my tongue that had returned our discussion back to the expensive stick, sooner than I had planned, I none-the-less realized that the unwanted bargaining had begun. “It is a nice piece Goodman Abner; however, it is well beyond my price range.”

“You would pay much more for such a work of art in Glanlies.”

“I am sure that is true, which would put it even further out of my price range. Would you take 35 silver for the grey one?”

Snorting at the choice, Abner said, “I rather doubt that Lord Deglace will find himself in a dockside bar brawl, for that is all that cudgel is good for. No the only option is this one, how about 1 gold even, that is an excellent price.”

“Still too much Goodman Abner, would you take 45 silver?”

“It would break me, I couldn’t do that.”

Surely there is no need to repeat what followed, it being the same as any such dealing. However, we still found ourselves 15 silver apart. Stalemated, it was my opponent who changed tactics when he asked, “You seem to like the white oak stick, maybe we can work out a package deal for both?”

Surprised to find that stick still in my hand, I responded, “Oh no, I don’t need one for myself.”

“Don’t be too sure. If you spend any time walking about one of the cities, you will quickly find its benefit. Also there will be times when you are unable to wear that sword at your waist, yet can carry your walking stick, which will offer you almost the same amount of protection.”

Remembering my aching feet the day Jimi, Stork, and I spent running errands for Clara, while knowing that my sword was never included when I found myself in skirts, I saw the wisdom in these comments. My being intrigued by the idea, meant he had himself a customer. In the end he sold me both for 1 gold, more than I had intended, but rarely is that not the case when you bargain with as little knowledge as I had about walking sticks.

Nor did my purse find relief dealing with Young Abner, though this time it was not through lack of knowledge. No upon seeing the footed arrows he was showing to Jimi, made from cedar though tipped and knocked in purple heart, I immediately recognized their quality and knew they would be wonderful for archery contests. And since Julion was my favourite Deglace, after the mistress, I did not mind paying 31 silver each for three.

A better deal was found for Archmage Sharlese and Magister Bewlmon. A pair of leather gloves, dyed the same burgundy as her robes, for the archmage. While for Magister Bewlmon I found a tin ink well, decorated with mountains.

This left me with Mary and Lady Deglace, for whom neither Jimi nor I had any idea what to buy. So I moved from wagon to wagon, hoping to spot something that struck my fancy. This, in time, brought us to the wagon of Delilah the Seamstress, a name I remember Mary mentioning during the day when she and the Washans prepared my wardrobe for our trip to Glanlies. Since it had been in positive terms, I took a chance and told Delilah that I looked for gift for Mary.

“Mary? She’s not ill is she? I missed her visit when we passed through at Elladoo Post a few days back?”

“No Goodwife, she has decided to stay in Glanlies with her family.”

“So she finally decided to follow her own wants, instead of her mistress’s, did she?”

“Aye.”

“Good for her, some are not meant for the North. Though I will miss her visits. And yes I do have something that I had planned to show her, hold here for a moment and I will retrieve it from my wagon.”

It was longer than a moment, before she returned carrying a basket. Setting it down on her table, she said, “Now if I had my druthers, Mary is not who I would choose to make me any garment, but she has an excellent eye for decorating one already made. So often she bought the trimmings and ruffles I make.”

With these words she opened the basket and began looking through the different trimmings inside. Of various colours, the majority being the ruffles that the Roamers used to trim their dresses. Finding what she was looking for, Delilah pulled out a length, of multiple yards, in a recognizable blue. “Mary was always after me to make some in Deglace blue, but only recently did I find some cloth that is properly dyed to allow me to do so.”

Knowing how much of her time, during the trip South, Mary had spent with her sewing bag out, adding decoration to either the mistress’ or my dresses, I could imagine that she would appreciate what was in the basket. Yet I was surprised with how little it cost me to buy what must have taken as many hours to make as either of the walking sticks I had earlier purchased. Embarrassed that I had spent so little on Mary, who was the most important person to me, I asked Delilah if she had anything else that Mary may like, such as a scarf or a dress.

“I doubt that would be a wise idea Miss Drake. Mary is not the type to have others pick her clothes for her, much rather would she choose for them.”

Laughing, I agreed, “That is true.”

“So speaks the voice of experience?”

“Aye, she has strong opinions on what is proper, despite what may be practical or what I think.”

“How would she react to the practical, boyish garb you are wearing?”

“Oh she would hate it. Thinking it is not lady-like enough, nor would she like me gallivanting about, escorted only by Jimi, with a merchant train. But her beliefs also allow her to be a rock when needed. I miss her and so will be in one of her dresses when next we meet.”

Smiling, Delilah said, “Surely you don’t share dresses with her.”

“No, no, it is as you said earlier, all of my non-traveling clothes were chosen by Mary.”

“Just think how she would feel if you showed up to visit her in a pretty, new dress. One you had picked out yourself. Wouldn’t that be a treat for her?”

In that moment I felt sudden kinship with the fish swimming about in its pool when presented with the sight of a wiggling worm. Delilah was right, Mary would probably be just as pleased to see me show up looking all girly as she would by anything I could get her. And though both the fish and I saw an invitation too good to be true, nature demanded that we take a nibble.

“It might...”

“Oh I am sure of it. Often did she lament that it was not worth her time looking at the things I made, since her mistress had no interest in her own appearance. Maybe you would be interested?”

Entranced by the worm, as it bobbed up and down, I took another nibble. “I guess I could look.”

“That seems reasonable Dearie, why don’t we pop into my wagon and see?”

The worm suddenly moving away confused me for a moment, but as expected I followed her into a surprisingly large interior, everything from a small stove, to cupboards, benches, and beds bolted and folded the against the walls of the wagon. There was ample room for the two of us, there would have even been room for Jimi, if Delilah had not firmly told him to wait outside.

“Being that you are so tall and slender, most of the things I have will not fit. However, there is one piece I have that, with the slightest adjustments, would be perfect for you. Let me find it. Here it is, yes hold it up against yourself and let me see.”

Even after having spent much of the summer in pants and shirt, the dress did not instill the terror that it once would have done. So I did not hesitate in taking it from her; however, I did not immediately follow instructions, instead holding it up at arms length to get a better view for myself. Though the dress was much as expected, the colour did surprise me. Unlike the usual bold colours you usually see a Roamer woman wear, this dress was an ivory white whose starkness was offset only by the obligatory black ruffles at the skirts hem. Otherwise, it had the low, square-cut neck line, long bell sleeves, and unevenly cut skirt, the front being knee high while the back came down low on the calf, that I always found so attractive on their young women. My initial perusal complete, and with Delilah still waiting, I held the dress up to my body for her to judge the fit.

“My that does look good with your colouring, though most of our girls couldn’t wear it. And it looks to be a decent fit. How do you like it?”

“It’s quite nice.” I said, honestly not knowing if the colour was good on me or not. My fashion sense having not begun to develop, it just seemed like another dress. Maybe a bit fancier than those in the cupboard in my room at Elladoo Post, but nothing like the ones left behind in Glanlies. I thought I would be okay with wearing it.

The fisherwoman finally set her hook. “Well then, out of your clothes and let’s see how it looks on you.”

Too late my instincts cut in and I headed for the weeds. “Umm...that may not be wise, I have been on the road for days and have not had a chance to bathe.”

She was prepared, pulling back before I swam too far. “Worry not Dearie, I have a basin of water and some soap, you can wipe away the worst of the road dust and sweat.”

With this offer, she soon had me out of bodice and shirt, wiggling out of deerskin breeches, even my small clothes and bandeau. And though I really wanted to take a dip in the pools monopolized by the Roamer children, the hand wash with the cool water proved refreshing. Until the opening of the wagon’s door, bringing a sudden rush of light, caused me to let loose a rather high-pitched squeal of distress as I tried to cover myself with arms and wash cloth.

“Kailie, close that door right now.”

“Oops sorry Mama, I did not know you were with someone.” Said Delilah`s pretty daughter, who was slightly younger than my own age, as she entered the wagon to join the two of us. Looking appraisingly at me, she asked, “Everybody says so, but are you really Drake the apprentice boy from Elladoo Post? Cause if so, you’ve changed from mouse to vixen since last I saw you.”

Feeling myself grow even redder, I was happy to be rescued by Delilah. “Kailie, where are your manners?”

“Sorry Mama.”

“What are you doing here girl?”

“Well the young‘uns are done with the pool. Now it’s our turn, so I came to get my brush, some soap and a change of clothes before meeting up with the rest to head to North pool.”

“Wait a few moments, then you can take Drake with you and the other girls. I am sure you will appreciate more than that basin offers, won’t you Drake?”

Beginning to recover from the shock of Kailie’s arrival, I immediately saw the benefit in joining her and her friends while they bathed. And not for the reason offered by Delilah. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

“Okay, what you doing anyway?”

“She’s looking for a dress.”

“Which one? Oh the white one, it’s so pretty. You’re so lucky it will fit you Drake, I always wanted it for myself, but Mama says I am too big up top.”

“Don’t brag Kailie, you don’t have Drake’s tiny waist. Really her breasts are perfect for her. At least so thought the boys, who delivered our groceries.”

While I finished washing, the two continued discussion about my appearance, everything from my head to toes. It was almost as if they forgot I was with them in the wagon. It meant that I was as ready as ever to put on a dress, hoping to distract them from offering their opinions on my finer qualities as a woman. Pulling it over my head, I gave a little shimmy to get it past my hips, then extracted my braid from its trap inside the bodice, allowing Kailie to do up the laces in the back. Dressed, Delilah examined the fit.

“Maybe it is a bit short, but that will just give you a chance to show off your pretty knees. How does it feel?”

“It is very soft, but the skirts seems tight.”

“Nonsense, that is how they are supposed to be and they’re not as tight as those breeches on the floor, though they will accentuate those swaying hips of yours.”

About to protest, I remembered Julion’s statements to the mages Sharlese and Tison about how I moved. Instead my attention remained upon the dress, deciding that in particular I liked the sleeves, which did not drape far past my wrists allowing me to use my hands without the cuffs getting in the way. In general, other than the intentional tightness at my hips, it seemed a good fit. I surprised myself by liking it. “If that is the case, then I have no more complaints about the fit.”

“Not so quickly Dearie.” Delilah said, pinching cloth at my waist. “It is quite loose here, I think we will have to put some darts in to get the proper fit. Kailie, hand me some pins.”

Standing patiently, so as not to be stuck by a pin, the dress was soon shaped to my form. Still a little frown on the seamstress’s face said she still was not happy. “This may not work. We need to take in more cloth than I had hoped, the darts may end up being too noticeable. I could try to make them appear decorative, but that is not what I had in mind when first making the dress.”

“How about like the ladies of Jewel, Mama?”

“What’s that? Oh yes, there’s an idea. Let me look.”

As her mother searched through the cupboards at the back of the wagon, Kailie noticed my look of confusion and explained. “Drake, you would be a natural for Jewel, where they very much appreciate a woman with a trim waist. The noblewoman even force their daughters into the most horrible of rib crushing devices to make it happen. Better to be a common woman in Jewel, instead of inflicting such torture upon themselves they wear wide belts. Mama does good business selling such belts.”

“Apparently Mama needs to become serious about replacing her stock. I only found two black ones that will fit. Here let’s try this one first.”

The first was of brocade, decorated with flowers embroidered in red thread, and was at least a hand width wide, I was surprised that it was not more uncomfortable. Still I did not particularly like it, thinking that the red flowers were rather too gaudy for the dress. That was not the case for the second belt, made of the softest leather, its blackness offset only be the white thread at the edges. However, it was less comfortable, besides being twice as wide it was also shorter in length, forcing me to suck in my breath before it could be laced tight, though it did provide a nice accent to the white dress.

“Well Drake, do you like either of them?”

“They’re both nice. Though the first one was a bit too...too much.”

Delilah interrupted, “I agree, it just did not go with your new dress at all. Much wiser to go with the leather one.”

Kailie agreed, “Definitely Drake, it really shows of your figure. The boys will love it.”

Having not realized that it had become a foregone conclusion that I would be buying the dress and belt, Kailie’s words caused my final thrashing before I was pulled ashore. “It seems too small.”

“Worry not Dearie, it will stretch to a more comfortable size. Now why don’t you change back into your boyish clothes so I can start sewing the darts, then you can wear it when you finish your bath.”

Truly glad am I that none of my instructors were with me on that day, for surely they would have been disappointed to see how few of their bargaining lessons I remembered. First Old Abner, then Delilah, treating with me as if I had no will of my own. Doubtless Master Elladoo would say it was because I was too eager a buyer. Thus when I left the wagon, it was as the owner of a new dress and matching belt. I did not even have my boots, they having been kept aside for polishing at 14 copper. Returned to the bright sunlight, I stood there blinking in confusion at what had happened and waited for Kailie to join me.

Jimi and the wolfhound, who had been dozing off in the wagon’s shade, looked up at me as I stood there, the first asking, “So Drake, did you buy a dress?”

“Apparently.”

“Where is it? And where are your boots?”

“The former is undergoing some modifications so that it fits properly. The latter are being polished.”

Holding out one of his feet, to look at the old, scuffed, brown, riding boots he wore, Jimi stated, “I don’t think any amount of polishing would do mine, or me, any good. So what now? Eck and me are all rested up.”

“Eck? Is that the dog’s name? What type of name is Eck?”

“Don’t know, just one of the Roamer menfolk cautioned me to be wary of Eck. But he seems like a good fellow, likely just gets a bad rep because he’s so big.”

Though spoken without bitterness, the words held the ring of true knowledge. Not knowing what, if anything, needed saying, I answered his earlier question. “I’m off to bathe in the North pool.”

“Is that safe?”

“Sure it is.” A voice from the wagon’s door, answered. “She’s coming with us and all the boys know how much trouble they will get into if they sneak a peak.”

“Jimi, this is Kailie. Kailie, Jimi.” Introductions complete, I noticed the canvas bag she carried, which prompted me to ask, “Umm, Kailie do you mind if we go over to our camp so I can get my stuff?”

“Sure, but let’s hurry. Everybody is meeting up fairly soon.”

Glad that the glade was grass, with me barefoot, we trotted to our camp where I quickly scooped up my pack and settled it over my shoulder. Jimi looked nervous about me heading off without him, but settled for telling Eck to look after me. The dog seemed to wuff an agreement before heading North with Kailie and I, though she nervously kept me between him and herself. Not until we were back into their camp did she regain her active tongue.

“So is the big man your lover?”

“What!”

“That Jimi, he’s awfully protective of you, like a lover is supposed to be. He’s not the most handsome fellow, but he does have large hands and you know what they say about men with large hands?”

“No! Umm no, he’s just my friend and has appointed himself as my guardian.”

“You have a bodyguard? Why? Didn’t you take on a whole bandit camp by yourself?”

“Well its better to avoid trouble, Jimi is good at keeping it away.”

“Yeah I suppose so. What’s it like being possessed by a demon?”

I was even more stunned by this question, than the one about Jimi. Not because she knew, I guessed that everyone in their camp had heard some form of my story. No, it was because nobody had ever asked that question, not even me, yet the answer was immediately on the tip of my tongue. “It’s scary.”

“Scary, why?”

“It just is. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Before any other questions could be thrown my way, we arrived at a group of eleven girls or young women, ranging from Kailie’s age all the way up to five who were past the age when most in the North would be married. However, this lack was explained away by them being the primary dancers amongst this group of Roamers, each would not be married until the younger girls in this group grew in skill and replaced them.

“Hey everybody, this is Drake. She’s going to share the pool with us.”

Kailie then introduced them to me. The third of whom was Filice, looking as lovely as I remembered. My heart beginning to race, I shyly lowered my look and mumbled a hello.

All, except one, returned pleasant greetings. That one, spoke in a harsh tone ­. “I don’t think so. I know who HE is. I remember him leering at me when we danced at Elladoo Post last year.”

Spotting the speaker, I did recognize her. She had stood out amongst the dancers and had drawn my eye, but not for the reason she assumed. Instead it had been the look on her face, the same look with which she made her protest, sourness. Competent at the dance she had seemed, yet of all the members of their troupe only she had seemed to hate being involved. Yet I could not explain that, it would be more harmful than agreeing with her reasoning.

Kailie came to my defense. “Bah, Celise. I saw her naked. If she really wanted to leer at a pretty girl, she would look in a mirror.”

“Quiet scamp. We all know why. He is possessed by a demon and you know what that means.”

Things were getting ugly fast, if not for Filice, I do not know what would have happened. “Quiet both of you. Kailie, it is not for you to speak to one of your elders in such a fashion. As for you Celise, Drake is a respected guest of my family, both of my father and grandmother. Do you pretend to be a better judge of what is happening than her?”

The response from Celise was a sullen one, but no more was said as we proceeded in two groups, me with the younger six, towards the pool. It had always been my assumption that someone had planted the bushes and trees that surrounded it for privacy. Moving through the hole cut in the sandilal hedge the answer of who suddenly seemed obvious, it had been the Roamers, offering their women a place to bathe out of sight. However, thoughts of the past were brushed aside by shyness as dresses began to be unlaced. Not wanting to be caught staring, in spite of my desires, I once more lowered my head and began to doff my own clothes. Only when I was as unclothed and heard splashes from the girls in the water did I look up.

I had guessed wrong, not all the girls were in the pool. In front of me, dressed the same as I, stood Filice. It was impossible not to drink in the sight before my eyes, realizing my dreams had never done her justice. Even after months in this form, it was as if it was the first time I had seen a woman, we were so very different. She was shorter than me, her soft olive skin covering fabulously rounded breasts, hips, and thighs, making my own curves seem those of a girl not yet ready for womanhood. I stared.

Yet in this I was not alone. She too stared at me, though with curiosity. Finally her gaze caused me to look into her deep, hazel eyes as she laughed and said, “Kailie did not exaggerate, as is her want. There is nothing boyish about your appearance. Here, let me help you with that braid, it wouldn’t do to get it wet.”

Reaching out to take my braid, she untied the leather thong at the bottom and began to unwind it, gently combing it with her fingers. “I really like your hair Drake. It’s almost white, like someone from the far East. Does it hold the curl from the braid?”

“No it will straighten out when washed.”

“I often wish mine could be straightened.”

My eyes closed, savoring her touch and beginning to feel the warmth associated with active fingers underneath covers, I sighed my disagreement. “Oh no your hair is lovely.”

“Why thank you. Are you okay?”

“Hmm...uh-huhhh.”

“Are you sure? Oh I know what the problem is.”

A second later I was shocked wide-eyed as my left nipple was tweaked. Reactively clamping a hand to each breast, I hissed at the smiling face. “Filice!”

“Maybe Celise has the right of it. Your girls announce your appreciation of what you see.”

Mortified more by what she correctly assumed, than by what she had done, I found myself hurriedly offering the explanation I had hidden earlier. The result being a most attractive full body giggle.

“I don’t think you’re being completely truthful about what you’re thinking, but your excuse is hysterical. Gods above, I can’t wait to tell Dowdy Celise.”

“Please no, she already dislikes me.”

“What would be in it for me?”

“My undying gratitude?”

“Tempting though that may be, I think my silence is worth more. Let’s see, what do I want? You know there’s going to be dancing tonight?”

“Aye, your father mentioned the possibility.”

“Oh there will be and I want you to join us.”

“Me? I don’t know how to dance, I’ll look foolish.”

“We’ll give you some lessons, nothing too complicated. But if you don’t want me to share your thoughts about Celise, that will be part of my payment.”

“Only part?”

“Well if you’re going to play the part, you have to look the part. You also have to let me dress you up as one of us.”

Eager to please, I said, “I bought a dress from Delilah.”

“You did, did you? That’s a perfect start, then it’s a deal?”

Combining my existing plan to wear the dress, with the opportunity to spend more time with Filice, made it an easy deal with which to agree. Agreement struck and with soap in hand she led me into the pool, proving that sometimes it is good to be a follower. There we joined the rest of the girls to wash and begin my lessons.

What followed was simply an amazing afternoon, starting out as only titillating before becoming so much more. Bathing and washing of hair took barely any of the time and soon the older dancers were done and on their way. But not the rest of us, in the waist deep pool they began to teach me their dances, specifically the graceful hand movements and upper body swaying that caused such happy thoughts amongst their male watchers. I was not immune. When the six first began their demonstration they were amazingly distracting; however, as time passed it grew more important that they were Filice, Kailie, Isselle, Sondra, Katreen, and Nadine. It was so very fun to be in their company.

That is the thing about becoming an apprentice in a remote location like the North, few are those of your own age with whom to share friendship. You are forced to leave your childhood, your youth behind. That afternoon I was given the opportunity to relive something missing since my boyhood in Corels, being part of a group. In a group it is easier to be confident.

So when we heard two boys, on the other side of the bushes, talking about me in the way that boys talk about pretty girls, I did not blush, but joined in the giggles of the others. Giggles that turned into full blown laughter when Kailie’s shout of, “Bran and Nikolai, you idiots. She can hear everything you two dimwits are saying.” resulted in sudden silence followed by footsteps running away.

That confidence stayed, as we moved to the sandy shore, allowing the sun to dry glistening bodies and long hair while we began to work on the steps to accompany what had already been taught. Never would I have guessed how enjoyable dancing could be, it felt right. Even when the others broke aside to dress I willingly accepted their praise for how much I had learned and their encouragement to keep practicing. For it had begun to feel very natural, as if it was the not the first time that I had stepped those steps, moved those movements. So when Kailie, who had dashed away to her family’s wagon, returned with a shout that she had my things, my feet were slow to stop moving before I turned to see that only Filice and Kailie remained, besides a sleeping Eck.

“Where did everyone go?”

Filice answered, “They had to go do their chores. Kailie and I decided to stay and help you.”

“Oh sorry, I did not know that you were waiting on me. Hopefully I have not kept you away from your duties?”

“Well I am personally happy to skip chores, how about you Kailie?”

“Me too. Though I did run and get Drake’s things. That was exhausting.”

Laughing as she pretended to swoon, I said, “So I guess it is time to start paying off my bargain.”

“What bargain?”

“Well Drake let something slip, which she did not want to share, when we were talking earlier and she needed to buy my silence.”

“What was it?”

“I can’t very well tell you, Kailie. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have to keep her side of the bargain.”

“Oh yeah, I guess. Can you tell me what Drake has to do?”

“Yes, she’s promised to dance with us tonight, but first she is going to let me turn her into a beautiful dancer.”

Though that was a bit more than promised, I did not dispute her claim. On that day, more than any day since being doomed to me new body, I felt completely happy with myself. Being one of the girls had been more enjoyable than any since the days I had ran free as boy. So my lack of dissension went beyond being fine with the idea of being a beautiful dancer, in that moment I wanted to be one.

Unaware of my desire, Kailie had similar thoughts as she said, “Let me help Filice. I’ve been thinking all afternoon about how Drake should do her hair, I even brought these for decoration.”

These proved to be a number of small, black, cloth flowers, probably made by her mother. Though I was not sure how they were used, Filice seemed happy with them. “Those will be perfect Kailie and another pair of hands would be appreciated.”

“I can just braid it like before.”

“Eww, Drake that was ugly. Like some greasy haired city guard, you have to let us do something better.”

“Well I did offer to put myself in your hands, and just as you I will keep good faith with our bargain. Just don’t make me look too funny.”

“Funny is definitely not my plan. Now why don’t you get dressed, you’ve played water nymph long enough.”

A good idea, since stopping my dance I had noticed that the late afternoon sun had begun to lose some of its warmth. Finding some fresh under clothes within my pack, I replaced them with my traveling clothes and those I had already soiled. This time, after Kailie and I repeated the same actions as earlier, the dress had no slack in the waist. The darts, which I thought were hardly noticeable even before they were hidden by the belt, did their job to ensure that though covered, my body was not hidden. Yet since the fit was no different than the matching dresses, black with red trim, worn by my two companions, I was unbothered by the results.

Ignoring my clean boots until later, I followed Filice’s instructions to kneel in front of her so she could brush my mostly dry hair. With my recently found flexibility, the position was comfortable instead of the squirm-inducing torture it would have been in the past. I also learned one benefit of the uneven skirts, they allowed me to kneel without binding, sensible for a nomadic people who could carry a limited number of chairs and would spend much time on the ground beside a campfire.

Once Filice was done with the brush, it did not take long to guess that she was braiding my hair in a fashion I had never experienced, nor had it ever taken so long, requiring the girls to periodically trade off. Though all my hair was pulled away from my face, they did not immediately begin braiding it into the rope that I could create, instead it was gently woven together from the top of my head down to my nape, the little flowers being artfully included in the weave. Only then did they begin to create the expected braids from some of the hair cascading down my back, three of them, the centre full and thick while the outside two were thin, being looped back to be pinned underneath the loose weave. So pleased were they with the results that I wished to have a mirror or that the pool offered a better reflection.

Smiling at the result, Filice stated, “You need some nicer jewelry. That steel stuff is practical, I suppose, but that’s not what we’re shooting for. Let’s head back to our wagon and I will find you something to lend.”

Due to the spell of Asolde’s priestess, Desmona, had cast upon me, my chains, which masqueraded as beautiful jewelry, changed to match any earrings I wore. This had led to me finding a simple pair of steel hoops before I had left Glanlies, which made the pieces less noticeable. “Thank you very much for the offer, Filice; however, I need to keep these.”

“But Drake, they’re so plain. Nothing that any of us would wear and you promised.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s because I can’t. Everything is bespelled so they cannot be removed.” Then putting action to words, I showed how, though my rings could spin, they would not move to be removed from my finger.

“Why would you do that?”

Jumping in, Kailie guessed, “It’s because of the demon, isn’t it?”

Not wanting to lie to my new friends, I answered honestly. “Yeah, it is. While in Corels a magister of Durnst, along with his colleagues from the other Gods, performed a ritual which bound the demon via these chains. It stops Sandrelessa from gaining control of my body.”

“Sandrelessa, is that the demon who possesses you? Why didn’t they exorcise it instead? What happens if it tries to take over?” The Queen of Questions asked.

“Aye, that’s her name, but it is not the normal type of possession, so Magister Bewlmon did not think an exorcism would work and as a compromise with Furigal’s people, decided to add my chains. If Sandrelessa makes her presence known, they begin to glow and will stop her, well my body actually, from acting on her will.”

Filice said, “Magister Bewlmon, you say. You can tell he’s a man, because no woman would have chosen such boring jewelry as chains.”

“Actually Mistress Elladoo chose the jewelry to use. Really quite beautiful too, sapphires and filigreed silver.”

“Then why didn’t they use them? Or were you just pretending when you tried to remove your ring?”

A feeling mischievousness, combined with a desire to show off for my new friends, caused me to smile and reach up to remove the steel hoop from my right ear. My intended air of mystery disappeared as I struggled with the clasp holding it in place, but finally it came free and I removed the left. What resulted was not a slow acting magic, as soon as that second hoop left my ear I saw both of their eyes widen in surprise.

Filice reacted first, with a startled hiss of breath she hesitantly reached out to touch the circlet about my forehead. “Are they real?”

“Yes.”

Kailie burst out with, “But they’re so beautiful, why do you hide them?”

“You cannot expect Drake to wander about with them on show Kailie, she would be under constant threat of robbery.”

“I guess, but she already has a bodyguard.”

“Well I don’t want Jimi to be hurt in order to protect my vanity. But they are rather extravagant for daily wear.”

“I suppose.”

“No supposing about it Kailie, look how they almost make her pretty dress seem almost shabby. It’s the earrings, isn’t it?”

“Pardon?”

“Your earrings, when you took out the silver hoops out, the glamour disappeared.”

Glamour seemed an appropriate description of what happened, for I did not think they truly changed, as they never felt any different before to after. “Yes, it results from a spell cast by a Priestess of Asolde, which makes everything match whatever earrings I wear.”

With a smile, Filice mused, “Why isn’t that handy.”

“Filice, your mother makes jewelry, we should see if she has anything that will go good with Drake’s dress.”

“Umm...yeah...Kailie thanks for stating the obvious. You want to check Drake?”

“I guess, though can I drop my pack back at our camp first?”

“Sure, but put your hoops back in, I don’t want your jewelry distracting from the hard work that we put into your hair.”

Laughing at this I followed directions, being quicker at putting them back in than I had been at taking them out. Then pulling on my shiny, clean boots, I tied the thigh flaps down to make them knee high. Stomping to get feet into place, I nudged Eck awake and the four of us left our sheltered world of the afternoon.

People noticed us right away, in particular their young men. Yet their looks did not affect me in the same way as earlier, for I was not alone as I had been when selling vegetables. Yes, yes, I know I had been with all my friends from the Post, I was writing metaphorically (well I think it is metaphorically, but if not, let’s just keep it between the two of us), and though excellent at dealing with physical threat, they were useless as tits on a boar at protecting me from teen-age lust. Meanwhile Filice and Kailie, along with Sondra and Nadine who joined us as we passed through the camp, were experts. Like rapiers, their words stabbed out to deflate confidences, and the follow-up laughter clubbed home each clownish suitor’s general unworthiness. I am not ashamed to admit that I preferred being on the side not being embarrassed, after having experienced that a time or two myself.

Back in the camp, my similarities to the girls seemed even more noticeable than around the pool. None of them spoke in the deep voices that had surrounded me all summer, nor did their pace out stride mine. Mine naturally being longer than theirs, as the tallest, but we were not in a hurry and if I swayed as we sauntered, so did my companions. It was possible to believe I did not stand out.

So I was glad that Jimi was not about when we arrived to drop off my pack. He probably would have tried to attach himself to me, and despite his having become my best friend, I wanted to be alone with my new ones. Nor was it just Jimi missing from the camp, the only member of our train there was Felix who eyed us curiously until he recognized me and did a double-take. That was surprisingly gratifying, still I pretended to miss his gesture for me to come over and talk. If I did not want Jimi’s company, I definitely did not want his. It did not take long to drop my pack, beside my saddle, and let Filice guide us back to the Roamer camp and her family’s wagon where she gained her mother’s permission to bring out the chest of jewelry for sale.

Inside were the pieces you expect from Roamer jewelers, items made not at great cost, but beautiful things made with care and time. And by far, the greatest number of these were made of the coloured, glass beads about whose making they were so secretive. It was earrings of this type that Filice first dug out and told me to try on. Looking at them, a hook with five strands of dangling red beads, I frowned. Even I could tell that they were a poor match for my dress. But when she winked at me, I realized she wished to surprise Sondra and Nadine, who shared my frown and had not seen my previous display.

Not wanting to spoil Filice`s surprise, I did not remove both hoops before hooking in the red beaded pair. So their exclamations of surprise was rather loud as the hook of the second one dropped through to dangle from my ear. Their reaction also drew the attention of Filice`s mother, who looked at me with suspicion.

“I recognize those earrings, but where did the rest come from?”

“Oh Mama, it’s so amazing. Drake has a spell cast on her so that her jewelry will match to any pair of earrings she wears.”

“She does, does she? And how does this spell decide what matches, not that I can complain about what it did this time around?”

“I am not sure Ma'am, though since the spell was performed by a Priestess of Asolde, the Goddess’s power must be involved somehow.”

“Yes, well I suppose the Goddess would have good taste.”

What followed was almost a re-enactment of that evening with Madame Deglace. Remembering both how much Mistress Elladoo’s mother had enjoyed that activity and my surprise that many of her earrings were not magnificent pieces, I purchased the first pair, of red beads, as her gift. By the time a choice for me was made, none of the earrings in the chest had been missed, though Filice’s mother found the experiencing rather frustrating, mumbling as she would dig out matching pieces and judge her pieces as second best to the magic’s creations.

The final choice was obvious to all. A pair made from varying length (short to long to short), alternating strands of white and black beads, attached to half an oval of wire below the hooks. Hanging most of the way to my shoulders they were rather distracting when I turned my head, but I liked the resulting bracelets, made from ten similar strands, and even more so by the rings of interwoven black and white glass. As for my circlet, it too had dangling strands, which sometimes ghosted into my vision and clinked together when I drew my fingers through them, yet I felt nothing upon my forehead. Rather eerie.

This action did bring an end to the girl’s afternoon of relaxation, as it was time to begin getting ready for the evening meal, which unsurprisingly fell to the women of their band. Before thinking it through, my feelings of camaraderie had me volunteering my assistance. Something that was gladly accepted and soon had me acting as a pack mule, carrying items from their camp’s cooking area to be set up upon a table near the bonfire, beginning to burn brightly between the two camps

As their menfolk began wandering into the area, my task grew more demanding. I, in some twisted, though likely just, payment for enjoying their discomfort during the afternoon, ended up acting as serving wench to a number of the younger men and boys, ensuring their mugs were full of wine or small beer. For no matter the age of the man, once one placed his keester upon ground or log, he appeared to lose all ability to walk.

Cut from my herd, their attention focused upon me. Yet still there existed some of my strength gained, from the group, earlier and while I was unable to reply with clever quips, putting them in their place, neither was I overly bothered by their crude attention, finding myself more likely to laugh than blush. Though one event just about had me running away. It occurred when one boy, probably acting on a dare from his friends, familiarly rested a hand upon the curved part in the back of my dress as I poured some small beer for one of his friends. Startled by his brazenness, the rest of the pitcher’s contents ended up on his friend as I spun to find him snatching his hand back, as an angry growl came from Eck, who had been docilely following me about.

Reaching down to steady the strangely protective dog, I said, “Lucky for you it was Eck and not my friend Jimi who saw you do that. You would have found he bites before he growls.”

Dignity intact, I made my way back to cooking fires to find everybody oblivious to what had happened. There my dignity disappeared for a moment as I fawned over the tail thumping hero of the moment.

From that point, with Eck watching the group of boys with baleful eye, my serving went much smoother. Though it definitely was not an activity I enjoyed, so gladly did I join my friends to eat our own meal, before assisting in the cleaning up. Finished that chore they easily dissuaded me from going to check up with my colleagues, who had eaten back at our camp, since it would not be right to eat food we had sold them earlier. Well unless like me, they worked for it. Convinced that they were coming around later for the planned show, I sat around talking with them, me about what it was like to be a guest of the Deglaces in Glanlies, them about their band, and life on the move.

Wrapped up in this, the sun had begun to sink behind the trees surrounding the glade before I knew it. Noticing it first, Filice stood up and announced, “Why don’t the rest of you keep this spot, while Drake and I go get some blankets for us to sit upon against the ground’s night damp.”

Used to following her orders, the rest of our group readily agreed. Me, well I was just happy to spend time alone with her and willingly allowed myself to be pulled to my feet.

Reaching their wagon, her mother, after learning our purpose, said, “Here I’ll get some and give them to Drake. You see if your Grandmother is ready and then help her to the bonfire.”

Curious as to how someone who needed help could also cause Celise’s earlier reaction to Filice’s words, made me to watch as she moved to the smaller wagon besides her family’s, to knock on the door. “Grandmama, it’s Filice. Are you ready to go?”

There was no immediate reaction, none before Filice’s mother returned and offered me a armful of fur blankets. Only then did the door of the second wagon open, offering some satisfaction to my curiosity. The most noticeable thing about the elderly lady, who Filice helped down the stairs at the doorway, was her apparent feebleness. A hard life on the road had left her stooped, leaning on a walking stick in one hand and Filice’s arm with the other. Yet in that tired body I sensed power of a degree not felt since I left Glanlies.

Filice’s Grandmother was a magic user, the power manifesting itself strangely to my newest sense. Not as sound or colours, but as a feeling of distance, of searching, of answers to be found, roads to be traveled. And though her body implied doubt that she could continue the journey, the resonant timber of her voice swept that aside. “And who be you Blondie?”

Unconsciously dipping a respectful curtsey, with which even Mary would not find fault, I answered, “Drake of Elladoo Post, Ma'am.”

“The demon boy?”

Rude though the words were, her tone and smile attempted to sooth the sting in her words. Yet I found myself responding in kind. “Aye, that’s me. Are you a witch?”

Smiling her acceptance of my challenging response, she said, “Until his dying day, my husband surely would have answered yes. For myself, I will admit that many of my clients would tell you I have a bit of the sight, which brings them back to have their fortunes retold. So what type?”

“Pardon?”

“What type of demon possesses you? I remember you from the past, and my apologies, but you were rather a gawky lad, no hint existed that you would bloom into a pretty flower. It does not seem the work a normal imp possession, you must have gotten yourself mixed up with one of the higher orders.”

Unsurprisingly her bit of the sight was accompanied by a bit of knowledge. “A Carthanan.”

“Ahh, the highest of the high.”

“But I am not possessed by Sandrelessa, we are conjoined.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Umm...I...I’m not really sure to be honest.”

At these words she let out a snort of laughter. “Well if I had a guess it is likely what allows you to be having this pleasant conversation, instead of frothing and gibbering away like a mad man. Still I am surprised that you are allowed to walk about free.”

“In Corels a number of priests and priestesses performed a ritual that ensures Sandrelessa’s obedience.”

“Chained by the Gods, yes who better to trust than they.”

Impressed with how much she seemed to know, I asked, “Do you know how to free me from her?”

“Sorry child, that is not knowledge I am able to give you. But enough of such gloomy talk, this is a night for enjoyment. I see you are dressed as one of us tonight Drake of Elladoo Post, will you dance with us?”

“She promised to, Grandmama.” The patiently silent Filice answered.

Though unsatisfied with the conversation, thinking that there was more she could tell me, I recognized that nothing more would be forthcoming and accepted the change in topics. “I will try, hopefully not embarrassing myself too much.”

“Pish tosh Child, look at the way you move, I am sure you will put on a lovely show. But if that is to happen, we best hurry, for these old legs of mine do not move as fast as they once did.”

Despite her claims, once we started moving, it did not take long before we reached our destination, there we sat the old lady upon one of the chairs set aside for her and the other elders. Then joining the other girls, we spread out the blankets and waited for the entertainment to start. With my curiosity piqued, I only half listened to them while looking about to see if anybody else amongst the Roamers held powers of magic. There were none who approached Filice’s Grandmother’s power, but in two of the men, one in the leathers of a hunter and the other gently tapping away on a pair of hand-drums, I felt some of the same sense of seeking.

Doubting they would offer any answers the old lady was unable to provide, I decided to enjoy the evening, just as I had the rest of the day. So as the music began to play, led by the drummer with power, I joined in the clapping as the children started their dance. More enthusiastic than skilled, their performance began the evening, with the beginning of the music drawing my companions from our camp.

It would be easy to judge them harshly in comparison to the Roamers. Dressed in dun coloured leather armour, with sword belts wrapped around waists, they showed none of the brightness that seemed to imbue our hosts. Yet I doubted not to which group I wished to belong, even while playing as the other, for that brightness was paid for by a harsh existence.

The children finished, we were treated to a succession of jugglers, tumblers, singers, and a story-teller who told some most off-colour jokes, though not as foul as those told in The Hole. All of which served as an appetizer for the main entertainment of the evening, the dancers. So when the jokester left the area between the fire and the watchers, nobody replaced him. The musicians, who had played between and during acts, stayed silent. Slowly the last members of the crowd quieted as final drinks were poured, the jokester found his seat, and the last child was settled.

Anticipation grew. Then...

Thump...

Silence.

Thump...

Silence.

By the third repetition, everybody’s eyes were turned to the drummer. Watching as he tapped his drum to coax forth another...

Thump...

Silence.

Slowly that constant sound drew me and every other watcher in, until it was as if our hearts beat to the will of the drummer...

Thump...

Silence.

Having become a member of the beast whose heart beat as one, I turned back to the fire, to see, through the flicker of the flames, that figures had appeared...

Thump...

Silence.

The thumping continued uninterrupted and if it appeared the figures moved, it was only because of the dancing flames that obscured them. They would not move until the least willing had joined the rest of us...

Thump...

Silence.

Only when that moment arrived did they move for real. Each step matching another...

Thump...

Silence. Pause.

Around the left side of the fire came a line of woman, ten strong, wearing dresses of red with black trim. Moving as one, connected to one another by lengths of ribbon held in either hand...

Thump...

Silence. Pause.

And from the right side of the fire came a matching line of men. Wearing the same colours and carrying the same ribbons...

Thump...

Silence. Pause.

Step by step, they strutted. The women crossing in front of the men, the men behind the women, until they formed two straight lines in front of the fire. Turning, they faced us, and leather boots that had previously been silent were raised to crash down with the next drummer’s beat.

Ker-Thump...

Silence. Pause.

The absence of the next beat could almost be physically felt, so completely had we accepted its lure. Yet that shock was nothing compared to the next moment, when with a shout the dancers began to whirl about, accompanied by all the musicians. After the previously deliberate pace, the wildness of sudden speed, sound and spectacle were like being drenched in ice water on a hot day.

Having seen it before, did not make it easier to follow that evening, trying to understand how the twenty dancers weaved amongst each other. Attention seemingly focused upon one, I would suddenly realize that my eyes were upon someone else. Yet if I did not watch one, the flash of multi-coloured ribbons caused me to be lost in a kaleidoscope of dazzling colours and shapes. It became hard to imagine how the dancer and musicians could keep up their wild pace, so breath-taking was it for me as a spectator.

I need not have worried, for like everything about this performance, this too was considered. The pace began to slow. The dancers began to spiral away from and towards each other, until the women were once more aligned in front of the men. Once more they came to a stamping stop...

Ker-Thump...

Yet this time there was no silence. Released from the pull of the performance, the audience could finally react. Through shouts or whistles or clapping, we could establish our individuality while applauding those who had made us one.

Now there was no need to wait for total silence before sound and movement returned with another shout. This time I could almost convince myself it was possible to follow their movements, to stay focused on a particular dancer. They did not blur into a single entity before once more spiraling apart, this time resulting in the women forming one circle and the men a second. The music slowed, but it did not stop. Dancers regained their breath, musicians flexed their fingers or wet their lips. Meanwhile we waited expectantly for the next part, it always was my favourite.

Slowly, deliberately, the dancers began to move in a circle, right foot crossing in front of left, then left behind right. Once more anticipation grew as we all waited for the next stage of the performance. Then in each circle a name was shouted and that member of the troupe dropped their ribbons, whose ends were adroitly caught by the dancers on either side, and moved into the once more closed circle.

Inside, each would begin to glide, almost running, around the circle as the music regained its tempo. Then at another shout from their fellows, they would begin to spin or twirl about. Now the spectator was given choice, whether to watch the man who leaped and kicked as he spun about, or to watch the woman as she gracefully twirled, her arms seeming to draw fanciful patterns in the sky. Always before, my eyes had been pulled away from the women to the men. Though the former would be sure to fill my dreams in the evening, the athleticism of the latter always seemed impossible to ignore. But now, after the lessons of the afternoon, my attention stayed upon the women, understanding that what had seemed comparatively simple, was not. They amazed me.

As each dancer grew tired, they would return to the circle, the music would slow, and the anticipation would once more be allowed to grow. Then in a flurry the next dancers would move into the middle.

If we had been in front of the post, and the Roamer band had been putting on a show, each dancer would have performed once before the entire troupe would have exploded into a finale as breath-taking as their beginning dance. But tonight they apparently danced as much for themselves as for us guests. At shouts from the crowd, dancers would once more return to the circle, trying to better what they had previously done. In turn, the dancers would shout the name of an audience member who would be cajoled into showing what they could do themselves.

At some point, during this time I found myself, along with my group, standing and clapping along to the music. Enraptured by the whole affair, my shouts of encouragement joined with those of the Roamers, though never louder than when one of my friends were in the circle. And when one returned, joined in offering hugs of congratulations.

It was in one of these moments, with Nadine who seemed as good as the regular dancers, that I was shocked to hear Filice and the others shout, “Drake!”

Caught up though I was in the moment, they still needed to push and pull me towards the circle before my feet began to move on their own. With my promise ringing idiotically in my ears, I continued forward to expected doom. Feeling the countless eyes upon me, my attention was drawn to those of Celise, who slowly swayed in front of me with a look of maliciousness on her face. That look added steel to my back, made me want to try, and it was with impatience I ducked under her ribbon.

Then I began to run.

Well not exactly run, instead it was that shuffle-run-dance step that the others had used to gain momentum. Circling, I tried to remember the steps and gestures taught to me that afternoon. I tried to figure out when to begin. I need not have worried, it happened at the exact right moment, even before I realized it.

But then I was no longer alone and my partner had centuries of practice.

Sandrelessa loved to dance. In that moment it was blindingly obvious to me. Just as I knew the nerves she had overcome in order to take control, I knew the fear that our chains might deny her. For though she was willing to lose everything else, she could not be denied the dance and still wish to exist. Yet remembering the purpose of the chains, to protect innocents from us, she had reasoned they may not stop her from leading our dance. So with trepidation she chanced it, success made her exultant.

Having felt her anger, hate, even fear, I knew that her emotions were greater than I ever wanted to feel myself. Her joy had me rethinking that. It was absolutely exhilarating. As was the dance, though I wished she would better share it with me.

With that wish, memories flooded my mind. I remembered being locked in a room, from whose floor grew hundreds of blades a hand length long and from whose ceiling hung more hundreds of blades, each of a different length. I remembered twirling amongst those blades, stepping ever so gently, ducking, and weaving. I remembered the pain of thousands of cuts and exhaustion whose escape was always punished by the blades having reconfigured themselves in my sleep. I remembered days, years later, beginning to gracefully move my arms between and under blades, adding artistry to athleticism. And mostly I remembered our pride when the door was unlocked and we were able to dance before our prince.

Understanding, I found it impossible to hold back a laugh of disdain at the mockery into which the Roamers had turned the Dance of Blades. Then as if I was a child riding a galloping horse I found myself shouting, “Faster! Faster!”

And faster we moved, until the only instrument accompanying us was the drummer, his magic flaring brightly every time a twirl caused me to face his direction. Though neither it, nor the two other lights I saw in my movements, were more than a candle flame compared to the white glow coming from my chains, announcing Sandrelessa’s presence. Knowing who caused each of the flickers, I began to feel curious as to their purpose. That curiosity grew as I noticed that the circle, about me, no longer resembled a circle and that the dancers had stopped moving to crouch on the ground.

Curiosity did not equal readiness. I was fortunate to be so involved in my dance, to be moving quickly, and to be remembering the room of blades. For when I saw that the spell the hunter cast was upon the arrow that he was loosing from his bow, I had no time to react. If my dance did not have me ducking low beneath imaginary points I would have been pierced by a real one. Instead the only mark of the arrows passage, was a plucking at my hair streaming behind my dance.

Sandrelessa’s outrage quickly followed. Outrage at the man for interrupting our dance, our joy. She flowed in his direction, but was brought up short. But not by the chains, they allowed an aggressive response to threat. It took us moment to understand what was wrong, to look down and see the ribbons spanning the distance between the ten dancers, each crouching to serve as a point in a pentagram given life by Filice`s Grandmother`s spell. My understanding immediately translated itself to Sandrelessa, who rage caused her to swipe a hand toward the throat of the nearest dancer, this time forcing the chains to come to life and lock us in place.

Helpless, I watched as the hunter began to nock another arrow, only to see him collapse beneath the fist of a large figure. Recognizing Jimi, I watched the guards from my wagon train to see they were amongst those few people that had reacted to my attack. Each of them dashed forward with dagger in hand to rest it at the throat of a crouching dancer, all except Jimi stood warily over his victim and Felix whose blade soon tickled the throat of the old witch.

These actions brought forth a surge of anger to the Roamers, starting them forward until Headman Meryers, who better understood the danger of the situation, shouted, “Hold! Damnit, hold I say.”

Felix’s voice, though not loud, filled the void left behind by the shout, as he sardonically said, “Yes everyone, do hold. Otherwise all these lovely ladies will feel the kiss of a blade and learn why daggers are known as such terrible lovers.”

“Do it and you will soon join them in Aredente’s realm.”

“Not just us. With your witch dead and that pentagram broken, Drake will be free. And with Drake free, well let me just say that after being part of the cleanup crew in that bandit camp she visited, she will see that all of you soon follow us.”

“That is why she must die, she is evil.”

“Bah, Drake’s not evil. Sure she can be as annoying as any of the merchant class, ambitious sort that they are. But she’s a good sort none-the-less. Honestly there is no way we are going to let you just up and kill our friend.”

The Roamers may have disdained Felix’s feelings, but surprisingly Sandrelessa did not. Noticing my surprise at what I felt from her, she shared, “Do not be surprised, we Carthanans value friendship. More even than you humans, since while seeking power, it is always important to trust those at your back.”

Used as I had grown to her extreme emotions, the perfect normalcy in the tone of her response caught me by surprise. Her rage dampened by our helplessness, she now looked for escape, just as did I. I found myself asking her, “What do we do?”

“We can test Felix’s abilities as a fortune teller.”

“No!”

“Aye, you are right. I do not want to be known as a slayer of dancers. Nor would it be good to lose your friends, particularly the loyal big one, since I am not sure if you could find your way home without them.”

“I could too.”

“Then is it acceptable to let them die?”

“Of course not. I want to get out of this with no blood being spilled.”

“It does make a mess of one’s clothes, does it not? Still I think most of the Roamers agree with your wishes, even the ambushers who sought ours. We just need to find a way to make them reach the same understanding as us.”

“But how?”

“I’m just a dancer, but if I were a merchant, I would try to sell them upon the benefits of letting us go.”

Of course. If I acted quickly, there was no reason that I could not be like Old Abner earlier that day. Bargaining from a position of strength, offering something the buyer wanted, but did not understand. But to take that role I needed to be free of my bounds and to do that I needed my new ally’s approval. I began my explanation.

“No need to explain, I know what you plan. And my immediate question is can you pull it off, do you have the confidence to pull it off?”

“I believe so, with your help.”

“I am to be the puppet master?”

“No, but you can act as mentor as guide, suggesting paths for me to take.”

“What is in it for me? Why would it not be better for me to end our existence now?”

“And give up the dance?”

“The dance? What is it you offer?”

“If you give me free rein in this, then I will see that we dance again.”

“You enjoyed it too, you will dance in any case.”

“Maybe, but are you willing to take the chance?”

“Actually I am, I know it is now surely as much a part of you as is your heart’s beat. But it is not worth arguing over our pleasure, no I will accept your plan without a price, for I do not have a better one to offer.”

When I felt the slackening of my chains, the ability to lower my arm to my side, to shuffle feet into a more comfortable position, I knew she was true to her word. She had returned full control to me, though she did not retreat as far as was normal, as shown by the glow continuing to surround me. I was free to act, but nobody watched.

The length of time to read our conversation, little mind how long it took to scribe, is ages compared to the time actually required to have it. Everyone’s attention was still upon the Headman and Felix. That needed to change. Taking advice from Sandrelessa, who was a performer of the first order, I began to move. Not to escape, though I did sneak a toe over the ribbon, ensuring that the pentagram was meant to enclose only the demoness. Instead of immediate action I once more began to twirl about my supposed prison, finding that movements performed by the will of Sandrelessa remained mine to use. I felt eyes turn towards me, heard the voices of the arguers quiet, and realized the moment had come to act.

Again I circled the enclosure, but did not stay inside. Instead I swerved and danced about the crouching dancers, crossing back and forth over the ribbons that were to hold me in check. At a gasp from the audience I came to a stop, beside Celise, who was closest to Felix and the Witch, and dropped into a deep performer’s curtsey with arms outstretched gracefully to my sides.

“And what about me, don’t I get a say?”

Then before anyone could answer I looked at Celise, brushed an outstretched finger against her cheek and said, in that nasty, sweet chirp, remembered from the bandit camp, “Oooh look, even your fear does not wash away that look of pure hate. I think I may let you live.”

“Nicely played my host, isn’t being menacing such fun?”

Ignoring her laughter, I gestured at Jimi and our men kneeling behind the dancers to join me. As a group we moved towards the group around the Witch and Felix, who watched me with a savage grin of appreciation.

My act almost came apart when another moved to join me, its very monstrosity would have caused me to startle back if not for Sandrelessa’s gentling whispers. Steady I could see in its form the shape of the wolfhound Eck, but large as that breed can be, the dog was dwarfed within a transparent figure from nightmares. Initially it seemed a bear, a giant one with curving fangs coming from both its jaws, with long claws to match, and grey bark-like hide. Definitely not a bear. It looked evil and if not for the demoness I would have turned and fled.

“Fear not my host, it is just a beladin.”

Slipping easily back into our silent communication, I asked, “A what?”

“A beladin. Carthanans keep them as pets and to guard our homes.”

“You keep monsters as pets?”

“Oh they may look ferocious and act it when defending their master and home, but really they are just as loving as your dogs. Their fierce appearance is due to the defenses they need to survive the terrors of my world. And look they’re both happy to see us.”

Now I could see, both a long wispy-haired tail and a shadowy barbed one wagging as the dog...beladin...dogadin approached. Nervously reaching out I scratched the befurred head with my hand, while another fine, long-fingered, talon-nailed, ghostly hand appeared to do the same to the hide-covered one. My prior fear was brushed aside by the contact with the fierce pair, though not my curiosity. “They’re like us Sandrelessa, but how?”

“I do not know, it is very strange.”

Strange true, but a mystery for another time, more important matters needed to be addressed. Coming to a stop in front of the Roamers’ elders I said to Felix, “I think you can let the lady go.”

I then addressed myself to her. “You know, here you are trying to kill me and I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Marni, but Child you have it all wrong. Our purpose is not to seek your death, we are trying to free you from your demon.”

“Are you going to tell me that it will hurt you more than it would hurt me in causing my death to set me free.”

“Oh I would never deny that you will feel pain, but would it not be better to be free of the burden you bear, the threat you constantly pose to those you hold dear?”

“Actually I am going to have to go with no. I am looking forward to a long, happy life, regardless as to whether Sandrelessa is around or not.”

“Hey!”

Shaking her head sadly, Marni said, “Then truly there is no hope for you.”

“And my friends?”

“We have no fight with those who seek only to protect those they see as their friend. They will be free to go.”

“You expect me to believe you will let them go after they witness what you plan for me?”

“We only do the work of the Gods, we do not slay needlessly. We will accept the price of doing what is right without doing more harm than is necessary. You have my word.”

“Harvesters!”

“What? Not now Sandrelessa.”

“No, you said you would accept my advice. Look at the hounds behind her.”

Looking where she wanted I saw three wolfhounds. Rather pathetic specimens, when compared to Eck, two seeming to cower on the ground while the third gave off all the signs of being a bitch in heat. But it was the two male dogs that drew my attention, something seemed off about them. Then I saw. They were not as different from Eck as I thought, they too were not alone. Yet instead of being dwarfed by a beladin, the dogs dwarfed the greyish imps which they held, allowing little but a shimmer of a skull from which burning, hate-filled eyes seemed to flicker.

“What?” I think I spoke aloud.

“Just as mothers in your world tell tales to scare your children about the denizens of our world, so to do our mothers have their stories about those from yours. Specifically they talk about those who harvest our souls, using them in foul rights, to create instruments of power. The witch is a harvester. And to top it off she means to house me in a bitch in heat rather than with pretty you. I hate her.”

I believed her. There was no reason for Sandrelessa to lie, since she needed me more than I needed her. I addressed Marni’s promise. “What good is the promise of a fraud, Witch? You seek not to protect the world from me, but to profit from she within me. It makes me wonder, do you have the power to imprison Sandrelessa’s soul in some ring or bracelet yourself? Or would you sell her to someone else to work their dark arts?”

“Tell her that I want to be pretty dancing slippers.”

Ignoring my inner voice, I saw the grandmotherly smile was gone from the witch’s face, but what replaced it was completely unrepentant. “You do see much for one so young, or maybe it is the one not so young who actually sees? But yes, you are correct, we will profit well in selling her to one much more powerful than I. Enough to feed our families for years, give us homes, allow us to stop begging for the pennies from you and your kind. Further you are also right that we cannot let any of you go free, or the Commission will be on our tails. Better for you to all disappear without a trace, sadly the victims of bandits.”

“You won’t succeed.”

“But what choice do we have? How else can we buy your silence?”

I could tell she truly wanted an answer, that she wanted a way out, knowing that where we were headed was good for nobody. Yet neither of us could see a way to get off the path along which we barreled towards the other.

Felix broke in to say, “You know it is too late for even that.”

Both of us looked at him, the witch speaking first, “What do you mean?”

“Well I had one of our men ride for Elladoo Post this afternoon, to tell the Master we had met up with you and that we may need some help.”

Looking around, I noticed, for the first time, that one of our guards was missing from the group of their fellows and the wagon drivers who surrounded me. I smiled, “Oh, so that is where Sammel has gone. I did wonder.”

The witch was not nearly as pleased, as she demanded, “What? I do not believe you.”

“You should, for after noticing how gently you bargained today, I was forced to remember a saying of my old Grandpappy. He always used to say that if I ever met a non-greedy Roamer, that I should watch out for the knife in my back. Smart fellow was my Grandpappy.”

“My that was quite nastily said, I like him.”

Unwilling to take Felix’s insult, the Headman blurted, “He lies, Mother. That is all his kind is good for.”

She had been studying Felix, who smirked back at her. “No Gillan I don’t think he does.”

“You should have listened to me Mother, we should have been watching their camp. I have men that would not have been noticeable.”

“Yes Gillan, maybe I should have, but it is too late now. The issue of the moment is what to do?”

Breaking into their thoughts I said, “Let us go.”

“We can’t do that, our honour is at stake.”

“The honour of murderers, Headman? Forgive me if I laugh.”

“I’ll...”

“Gillan enough! I can see what is in it for us to let you go, but Drake, what is in it for us?”

“Freedom for most of your people, few have done anything to upset the authorities, even if you are caught. And maybe freedom for all of you if you move fast enough.”

“Bah, men on horses can easily catch us.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It is possible that Sammel was slowed or did not make it to the post. Maybe Master Elladoo will not react. Or he will be cautious seeking assistance first from North Fort before he does anything.” Then making my voice hard, I said, “But I do know if you attack us, none of you will go free. Even if you were to win, doubtful though I believe that to be, you will have many wounded slowing you down, for surely then you will be caught.”

“You seem to want this as little as I do Drake. I begin to wonder if maybe your threat is more bluster than truth. I noticed what happened when you tried to attack Licille, do those chains constrain you more than you let on?”

“I won’t hide the truth from you, they will not allow me to start the fight. No, that’s not quite right, they would allow me to start the fight, they just would not allow Sandrelessa to take part and assuredly it is of her you should be afraid. But if you were to attack us, then she would be free to respond. And though she would do things to add to my nightmares, I would not try to stop her.”

The witch looked into my eyes, trying to and maybe even succeeding in reading my thoughts. “You know, I believe you. Still I do not feel you offer a price as high as ours, for we will need to find new places to roam if we do let you go. Therefore, I want more, I want you to give us time to escape, to delay those who would chase us.”

“I would, but I cannot promise to be able to do so. Those who follow will not be mine to command.”

“Would you offer to attempt to do so?”

She could have asked for me to do a naked jig and I would have done so, this was nothing. “Aye I will try.”

“Then I accept your offer.”

“Mother!”

“Quiet Gillan, how can we say what we do is for our people, if it will bring them more harm than good?”

He stared hard at her for a moment, then looking questioningly at those around him his eyes settled upon a nodding Freido, and said, “Very well, I too accept the offer.”

Expecting the answer though I did, it still left me confused. Usually at this point of a deal, one side handed over some goods and the others payment, or you shared a drink to finalize it. Neither was appropriate here, between enemies. I said, “And I agree.”

With those simple words, it became time to tempt fate, to see if they would prove my faith in their words wrong. Slowly turning away from the witch and her son, I began to move toward our camp, the Post’s men cautiously following, blades still out and eyes darting about.

“Wait.”

Surprised, I turned and that surprise made my voice angry as I demanded, “What?”

“The dog, he is not yours.”

Only then did I notice that Eck was still at my side, so natural did he seem there. “You mean the beladin don’t you? He follows me at his own will, I do not coerce him. Why don’t you call him? Why is he not cowed like the imps?”

“A beladin? Is that what type of monster he is? I have long been curious about it, for he has been with me since I was young. It was in defending myself from its attack that I stumbled upon the magic to capture a demon’s soul. I would not part with him.”

“I will not force him to follow, but he seems to have attached himself to me and neither will I force him not to follow.”

Her gaze moved from me to the dog and then she sighed, “He was stubborn even before he became host to your beladin, going where he wanted despite whatever he was ordered. Being host to a demon did not change that, maybe the two of them are too similar, it would explain why they melded so naturally. So be it, go now before I change my mind.”

We did, moving quickly, though not at a run. The men, with me, trying to stare down each and every Roamer who met their eyes. Me, I did not look at anybody, not even a glance towards the girls who had acted as my friends, while preparing me for slaughter. Currently too focused to feel the betrayal, I knew that looking at them would bring it crashing in. And I could not afford that right now, we were still not free of the Roamers’ influence. They could still change their mind.

Back in our camp, the men began breaking down the camp, except for Jimi and Felix who with loaded crossbow in hand watched the Roamers as they began to move away from the bonfire to their own camp, many casting fearful or angry glances in our direction. Me, I headed straight for my pack, recognizing my dress was not suited for the travel required that night. There, not caring who watched, I stripped from boots and dress leaving my feminine curves minimally covered by my small clothes, before digging out my breeches and shirt. Wiggling into the pants and pulling on the blouse, I studied the dress. Dressed and deciding it was too pretty to leave here, I crammed it into the pack before moving to saddle my horse and to help get ready to leave.

We were fast, for the camp had been a temporary one, built with the knowledge that we would be on the road come morning. The one problem area was that our horses knew this as well and displayed their grumpiness at being saddled or hitched to wagons. But the old hands, with whom I traveled, soon dealt even with this. It was time to truly leave. At least try to leave.

It was in these moments that we most expected a flight of arrows to come slashing down at us. And so we did not yet mount saddle or wagon seat, instead in the shadow of our horses we began to move to the path leading out of the glade. Eerily lit by the still roaring bonfire, lanterns at each of the corners of the wagons, and the glow from my Roamer inspired jewelry, showing Sandrelessa’s continued interest, we moved further and further away. Though we saw watchers, they did nothing as we distanced ourselves from them, only mounting when Felix determined we were far beyond the range of even their finest archers.

Yet he did not allow us to gallop off in a panic. Sending three of the guards forward to watchfully lead our way, he kept Jimi, myself and hence Eck back to keep him company, looking backwards as much as forwards to see if the Roamers came after us.

Nobody spoke, each now armed with cocked crossbow, we searched beyond the light, listened over the sound of hooves and wheels, waited to respond to an attack. Seeing or hearing little, I looked towards the dogadin, trusting his senses more than mine. Somehow guessing my thoughts, he moved away to trot around the edge of the light. A couple of times he stopped, looking back the way we had traveled, growling, sometimes even letting out a warning bark, causing us each to tense up for what we though was about to come. Yet each time his hackles would slowly lower before he would return to his patrol.

His reactions did confirm that we were being followed. But we did not know if it was to see that we kept our word or if they still planned mischief. Passing time seemed to point to the former reason.

I am not sure how long we were on the move before Felix called us to a stop. It was a normal thing to do, whenever one of the trains started out for a day, to have everybody step down and check if poorly tightened buckles or fastenings had begun to loosen. In this instance, the stop also allowed each of us to burn off some of the nervous tension built up as we had waited for attack from the dark.

Re-tightening the cinch of my saddle, I asked Felix, “How did you know?”

“What? Don’t you believe the story about my Grandpappy?”

“Not really.”

“It was when you came back to camp in that dress. I had only seen its like one time, back when I was still in the Militia. It was when the company, to which I was attached, became involved in a border skirmish with a pack of Fallosian raiders North of Sandbar. We were able to catch their group by surprise, making short work of a number of them, before chasing the rest back over the border. Well after that our Captain decided to set up camp and began to patrol against their return, this resulted in me and a few others scouting about to see if any more of the bastards were lurking. Doing this I came upon a band of Roamers also hit by the raiders.

“They were surprised to see me, I used to be able to move real quiet like, as I was almost in their camp before they saw my approach. Seeing my uniform did not calm them down much, probably because they were in the process of burying seven people killed in the attack. Hearing mumblings that I profaned their ceremony with my presence, I quickly moved on. But I never forgot the seven of them laid out on the ground in their finest, the two women wearing dresses exactly like the one you wore today.”

Remembering his reaction when he had seen me earlier that day, I immediately understood how inappropriate mine had been. If I had acted like the leader of the wagon train, instead of like a petulant child ignoring my elders, what followed may have never occurred. I admitted, “Sorry that I ignored your gestures to talk earlier. I made a real hash out of things.

“So you did see me?”

“Yes.”

“Well it is not guaranteed that it would have made things go better, and I am not blameless either. If I had not been so diligent in shirking my duties as senior-guard, you would never have thought I was worth ignoring. We are both lucky that our lesson was not more painful.”

Easy for him to say, for he did not feel my betrayal. It hurt, to be so rudely thrust aside by those who had welcomed me with a smile. Still I did not mention this to Felix, instead I agreed, “We were indeed.”

Little more conversations was allowed before we were again on the move, Felix reminding everyone not to relax, telling us that if he was in charge now is when he would attack, when we had begun to think that we were free of danger. Fortunately his counterpart amongst the Roamers did not have the same thoughts. Allowing mine to once more drift inwards, towards betrayal. Yet was it, what fealty did they owe to me, an outsider. Plus I had to admit I preferred the Roamer’s rather business like approach to my death, when compared to the calculated hatred of the Followers of Furigal. If only Filice and the others had not pretended to befriend me first, callously playing with my emotions.

“Blah blah blah, you do enjoy your black funks don’t you?”

Startled to have my thoughts broken into by Sandrelessa, I asked her, “What?”

“Well it seems that you enjoy putting yourself down. Now I can understand that thinking before we met, such a sorry specimen you were, but now, well that makes no sense. Look how much better life is for you since I came on the scene.”

“Yeah, right. I specially enjoy the regular attempts upon my life.”

“Bah, just some spice to liven up every day drudgery. As for being betrayed by your maybe friends of today, what else were they supposed to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well if you were ordered to do something similar by either of the Elladoos I would guess that you would do it.”

“Not to someone I liked, I wouldn’t pretend that.”

“Sure you would, just because you are someone’s enemy doesn’t mean you can’t like them. I like some of mine and I know all of mine like me.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No it’s true, I’m really quite likeable.”

“So you’re saying that Filice and her friends may have actually liked me and were only following orders?”

“Not at all, my thinking is that bunch of cows were happy to take us down because we’re prettier and better dancers than them.”

That actually made me laugh out loud, forcing from me a gesture to Felix and Jimi to ignore me, before answering Sandrelessa. “We are, aren’t we?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe it’s like what Marni said at the end.”

This time it was Sandrelessa who was confused. “What did she say?”

“About Eck and the beladin, how they melded so strongly. Maybe we’re like that.”

Her confusion was replaced by disgust, “You’re comparing us to a dog and a beladin?”

“Not really, I’m just saying that maybe we are more similar than I had thought.”

“It is possible, we do both enjoy the dance.”

“True.”

“And being pretty.”

Though I would not admit it to another, with her I agreed. “True as well.”

“And killing things.”

“No way.”

“Yes, you would prefer to talk your way out of things. In fact talking seems to be preference for most everything. What do you think of Felix?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well have you been thinking about knocking him out of his saddle and having your way with him. Hmm, maybe even if in the saddle.”

“Gods no!”

“See we’re not alike at all. And you really like all that merchant stuff, you’re always reading from those boring annals.”

“Their not boring.”

“I’ve been around a lot longer than you and all the wisdom I have gained tells me that yes they are. So see we’re not really all that similar, though you are beginning to loosen up under my guidance.”

I decided not to dignify that with an answer, “I don’t think the Roamers are going to do anything.”

“No, they are likely running as fast as they can. Which means that my presence is no longer needed on this long boring ride, I think I will go to sleep.”

“Umm...okay. Thanks for the help tonight.”

“You can pay me back by letting me out to dance.”

Getting the last word, she was gone, and instantly I felt lessened, I missed her. Nor was I the only one, her departure leaving our way lit only by the lanterns on the wagons and the often cloud covered moon and stars, my companions, including Eck who now appeared nothing more than a dog, looked in my direction. “She grew bored with the ride.”

Felix nodded his head, as if in understanding. But for the next while all our attention was drawn to the closer borders of darkness. Then it turned into a tired plod forward, me wishing that like my companions I had taken the opportunity to get some sleep in the afternoon instead of gallivanting about with those who would betray me. This is where Felix showed even more worth, as he rode extra miles between us, trying to keep us awake and watchful of our surroundings, calling for breaks, or having us dismount to walk for a time. And it was because of his efforts that those at the front of our train heard approaching hoofs, giving us time to stop and build a barrier of our wagons, everybody behind waiting to see if those who approached were the ones we hoped for or if they were the ones we feared.

The brightness of the torches, that each man in their party carried, brought relief upon their arrival, Sergeant Hussel being recognizable even before he stopped to shout greetings to us. “Caling’s shiny balls, it looks like you need our help after all. And here we were all looking forward to having a few words with that dickhead Felix for making us go on an ass-busting, night ride. Can we come forward?”

“Please do.” I shouted.

Dismounting beside a waiting Felix and I, he demanded of the Senior-Guard, “So what in the name of Furigal's three-pronged prick happened? Sammel came riding pell-mell into the post early this evening shouting as if the Dark One and his horde rode with the Roamers.”

Happily I let Felix explain, although this did not last long as the Sergeant dragged me into the conversation after cursing the two of us long and hard for our lack of communication. At the end of our joint explanation, he thought about his options for a moment before saying. “My gut tells me we have to go after them, no telling what other mischief they will get into.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea.” I said, and not just because of my promise offered to Marni.

“Quiet you, I don’t need one of Asolde’s tarts telling me how to do my job.”

I was tired and that pissed me off. “No you listen here Sergeant. Despite some mistakes, we were able to extract our entire train, with no injuries from a hostile situation in which we were drastically outnumbered. All that can be done by your rushing off to hump at Aredente’s leg is needless deaths. Don’t you think they will be waiting for you, each armed with bow and sharp arrows, hoping to avenge their embarrassment at our escape. The only thing that held them back was their fear of Sandrelessa, who has now gotten bored and left. So unless Master Elladoo gave you explicit orders to relieve me of command of this train, then you and your men will join the escort and get it home.”

“Have you truly weighed the options on Turin’s rusty scales Girly?”

“Yes, I have. The Roamers have backed themselves into a corner. Better to sic the Militia on them, it’s their job to deal with law and order on the Peninsula. It’s ours to protect our goods and bring them safely back to the post.”

Staring at me for a moment the Sergeant broke out into a grin, and said, “I agree completely Girly. I’d sooner stick my pecker in a wasp’s nest than challenge a band of Roamers that have had their honour injured.”

“Then why?”

“Blame it on your position, we are all to test an apprentice when appropriate. I wanted to see if you put your honour before duty. And by the bloodied eye of Jiringel, you more than passed, you were down right ferocious. I particularly enjoyed the humping at Aredente’s leg line, you don’t mind if I use it, do you?”

All of it, this final test, my exhaustion, what we experienced in the camp, our escape, and the knowledge that the ordeal was all but over crashed down upon me. It was all I could do to stop myself from breaking out in tears, both of frustration and relief. Jimi, my protector, seeing the look on my face, jumped to my defense. “Damn it Sergeant that was an assholish thing to do. It has been a long and trying day already, without those who are here to make it better turning it worse.”

“Calm down Jimi, its just part of her training, similar to how I will be bonking you on the head during our next sword practice to remind you not to speak out of turn. But I am sorry Miss Drake, why don’t you climb aboard one of the carts, maybe you can get some sleep while we make our way home.”

After all that I had endured that day, I did not feel like ending it being treated like some spoiled princess, I sniffled and said, “That’s okay, I can ride. Let’s mount up and head out.”

Matching actions to words I climbed wearily into my saddle, and sat waiting for the others to follow suit. On the road again, the Sergeant circled our original band with his troop of twenty. I saw no need to protest this, in fact it did not take long before my thoughts turned to wishing I had not refused his previous offer, for with worry gone it proved difficult not to nod off, finding myself time and time again startling awake as I began slipping out of my saddle. The ride became a battle of will, one barely won. Never was I so glad to see the walls of Elladoo Post.

***

It grows late. Or should I say it grows early, for when I look out my window my eyes spot the first rays of the sun creeping upwards to herald the new day, the day my wagon train leaves Glanlies. Barely have I met my commitment, to tell you of my day with the Roamers. Yet the end result leaves a number of questions, some of which are yet to be answered even to me, others which may only be answered if I continue to wed stylus to paper, but some have answers I can share now. And since I am at the point that the little sleep available would leave me in worse shape than just getting on with the new day, I will try to answer them.

After all, I have somewhat outgrown the need to prove myself. Happily will I climb aboard wagon seat to steal sleep this afternoon, when tiredness has me slipping from my saddle. But let us hurry to the answers, before time runs out even for them.

The first is to say what happened to the band of Roamers, with whom we had our run in. The simple answer is, I don’t know. Master Elladoo agreed with me, being only too willing to put the matter in the hands of the North Fort Militia. They in turn did not rush forth seeking justice, allowing regular patrols to discover that they seemed to have disappeared, doubtless to roam in new and safer territory. Instead, they were replaced by a new band of Roamers, ones with an absence of magic users and against whom we did not hold the actions of the brethren, for they brought skills that made life in the North more enjoyable to live. Never again did I meet Marni, Kailie, Filice, or any of the others.

But the two girls, more than the grandmother, continued to have an impact upon how I saw myself. They had unlocked something that I need not hide away. No longer did I begrudge putting away breeches and shirts, before changing into the skirts or dresses worn about the post. Nor were the holes in my ears always filled with simple steel hoops or hair twisted in a simple braid. I began allowing myself to accept some of the simple pleasures of being a girl.

Secondly there is Eck, who made himself right at home. Marni being correct in her statements that he would do whatever he wanted, he followed me about but rarely my orders. Still, based upon the number of wolf-houndish looking pups found on the post as time passed, he doubtless enjoyed himself.

The third question is also quickly answered, as it deals with my attempt to convince the master to let me manage the dispersal of the herbs and such brought back from our trip. He answered a firm no, it being a task always trusted to a rather prickly family member. However, the master did set it up so that I could accompany and learn from the man, who seemed to only accept my presence in order to stare at the cleavage produced by the bodices of my Glanlies’ styled dresses. Despite this, I learned much from the lech.

Lastly, you likely wonder if I ever paid Sandrelessa back. Well I thought nothing of it for three entire days and then that night, caught up on my rest, I found it hard to sleep, memories of our last discussion playing in my head. Finally giving up I crept forth from my room, in nightgown with candle in hand, down the stairs and outside. Met by an apparently waiting Eck, we stole into the bin that Master Elladoo used as his magic workshop, there I lit the wall sconces and placed the candle on the table. Then nervous about my plan, recognizing that if not forbidden few would think it wise, I moved into the rhombus, reasoning its protective magic would make it the best place to be if things went wrong. But I was committed to this action.

So I began to perform the steps taught to me around the pool by the Roamer girls. And though more gracefully done than that afternoon, my worry was that without music it would not be enough.

I was wrong. It was. In an eye-blink Eck and I weren’t alone anymore, the windowless workshop growing suddenly bright.

Sandrelessa said nothing, though I sensed her amusement with our location. Instead she flowed into me, taking over arms and legs, hands and feet. But she did not spring into the Dance of Blades, instead she caused a much gentler tune to enter my mind. To this we began to sway, our feet moving not at all, slowly more and more of our body joined, taking on slow, yet exaggerated, movement. And, when finally our feet took us from that spot, it was not with speed and power, but with grace and softness. It was as if we floated, our night-gown billowing outwards as we leapt and spun. Gently, gently like the music. Opposite to what we danced in the Roamer`s camp, but just as wonderful. I wanted more.

But when the dance slowed to a conclusion, she went away just as quickly as she came. Offering the promise of more, but only if I asked.