"I'd heard of several trails," said Paks. She didn't want to say exactly how much she knew. "And I knew someone who'd been over Dwarfwatch. But if there's a shorter way—"

"Oh, shorter," said another merchant. "That's with where you're going in the north—" He looked closely at Paks, but she didn't say anything. After a moment he shrugged and went on. "If you go straight across at Silver Pass, you come out between Prealith and Lyonya, but there's a good trail on the north side that will bring you west again and out near the southeast corner of Tsaia." Paks nodded. She felt rather than saw the elf watching her. "That trail meets the one crossing from Dwarfwatch; there's a cairn at the crossing, and a rock shelter. If you're headed for Tsaia, the distance isn't less, but you can travel faster alone, and the passes themselves are easier than the Dwarfwatch route. That high one—" he broke off and shook his head.

Paks followed this with interest. "I thank you, sir," she said. "I have no great knowledge of mountaincraft; I had heard only that the pass was short."

The merchant laughed. "Aye—it's short enough. If you get over it. Ice in midsummer, and blizzards—dangerous always, and for one alone—well, were I you, I'd take the eastern passes, the ones we spoke of. You'll be in mountainous country longer, but none of it as high or as cold. Does the Wagonmaster know you're leaving?"

"Of course, sir!" Paks was angry, but she saw by the reactions of the others that no insult was meant.

"I would ask him to free you for the eastern pass," said the merchant seriously. "Especially since you're traveling alone."

Paks nodded and said no more. The merchants returned to their usual topics: what product they had found in this or that port, and how well they sold; who ruled what cities, and what the recent war would do to the markets.

"What I worry about," said one enormous man in a heavy yellow cloak, "is what it will do to the tolls. They say the Guild League spent and spent for this last year's fighting—they'll have to get it back somehow, and what easier than by raising the tolls?"

"They need us too much," said another. "And they were founded to give trade a chance. The Guild League won't rob us, take my word for it."

"If they do, there's the river," suggested another. "Now Alured's settled down to play Duke, he'll be letting us use the river again—"

"Ha! That old wolf! By Simyits, you can't believe a pirate's changed by gaining a title—can you? And what have we ever got, come to that, from the noble lords and their kind? They want our gold, right enough, when a war's brewing, but after that it's—oh, those merchanters: no honor, no loyalty—tax 'em down, they're getting too proud." Paks found herself laughing along with the rest, though she, too, thought of merchanters as having no honor—like the militia of Vonja. It had never occurred to her before to wonder what the merchanters thought.