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no,” Sandry said. “We don’t have many secrets.”
    â€œActually, I’m surprised you didn’t know already,” Green Stone said. “But then who would have told you? We were the first real wagon train into Tep’s Town.”
    Sandry nodded. Any sea captain might have said something. Maybe one did and no one thought it was important, because what could anyone do about it? They sure couldn’t ship horses out on boats. “So you’ll be buying horses,” Sandry said.
    â€œMaybe. If the price is right,” Green Stone said. “Lord Sandry, here is Twisted Cloud, Shaman of this caravan.”
    Sandry stood. Twisted Cloud was dressed in a leather skirt decorated with whirlwinds. Her hair was in two dark braids that hung below her shoulders. Sandry guessed her to be Aunt Shanda’s age, although it was hard to tell, because there was no gray in the stark black hair, and no wrinkles on a face dark as well-tanned leather.
    Visiting wizards had described caravan shamans in contemptuous phrases: hedge wizards specializing in minor spells such as food preservation and divinations, in contrast to the real wizards, who could build palaces overnight and create armies of the dead. So they had said, but Sandry had never seen a wizard do these things. There was never enough magic in Lordshills or in all of Tep’s Town. A few wizards had brought fetishes and talismans, a few could heal hurts that weren’t serious—itches, a boil—and one had made rain from early morning fog, but for the most part, the tales of great magic were only stories.
    When Sandry bowed, Twisted Cloud caught his hand. She stared at it for a moment, then grinned slightly.
    â€œWise one, what did you see?” Burning Tower asked eagerly.
    â€œLittle,” Twisted Cloud said. “My father read secrets better than I, and my daughter better than Hickamore ever could. But this one has few secrets to read. All his names are known, and his wishes are plain to all. Green Stone, you may forget your fears.”
    Sandry felt himself blush. “Only Lordkin have secret names in Tep’s Town,” he said. And that’s silly. They know that—Whandall Feathersnake is Lordkin himself. “Lords have little need for secrets. As I said.” And as they must know, so why bring their wizard to me? And what fears did Green Stone have? Oh—
    Green Stone clapped his hands. He seemed much friendlier as he said, “Bring food for our guests. Welcome, Lord Sandry, to the lesser Feathersnake caravan.”
    â€œThank you,” Sandry said. “But duties call. Bordermaster Waterman may need help.”
    Burning Tower smiled. “Why? You’ve won, the terror birds are all dead, and from what I remember of Master Peacevoice Waterman, he can take care of himself.” She glanced significantly at Chalker. “Do rest a while and have some refreshment.”
    Sandry glanced up at the sun. Incredibly, it was not yet noon.
    Green Stone nodded. “We’ll have plenty of time to pack up and get to Peacegiven Square before dark,” he said. “And even if we hurried, we couldn’t be there in time to set up a market today. Be welcome, Lord Sandry, be welcome.”
    Very friendly. He must have really been worried. That we’d rob him? “Thank you, then.” Sandry sat on the carpet again. “Leading a caravan must be hard work.”
    â€œIt can be,” Green Stone said. “It’s the details to keep track of. And now these terror birds.”
    â€œNo idea where they come from?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œFrom the south,” Chalker said. “When I was a boy, I had a hat with terror bird feathers, and my father told me he bought it in Condigeo off a merchant from further south. Down the Golden Road,” he said.
    â€œOutside Coyote’s lands, then,” Twisted Cloud said. “I believe that. I can’t think Coyote would be