"Gird knows," he said. "Being as it's gnomes, it's some trading matter, I'd say. Remember that they're as full of pride as bees of sting—and as quick with it, too. They don't like jokes, and they don't like someone misjudging them on their size. Gnomes see everything as exchange—good for good, and blow for blow. They don't do favors, but they're perishing fair, if you can understand their idea of fair. And they never forget anything, to the ends of the world."

"Oh." Paks hoped they would understand ordinary courtesy as courtesy.

Both gnomes were seated before the fire in one of Hebbinford's private rooms when Hebbinford announced her. One jumped up and bowed. Paks made a sketchy bow in return. She thought she could see a gleam of satisfaction in that flat dark eye.

"Master Hebbinford if you would bring ale." The gnome gestured to a chair, and Paks sat; he returned to his own seat. His speech lacked the pauses and music of human language; Paks found it hard to follow, even though the words were pronounced correctly. "Is it that you were hired for our rescue?"

"No," said Paks, "not exactly."

"Then this rescue was in hope of reward?"

"No—what is it?"

"That is what I try to find out. For what service were you hired, if not for our rescue?"

Paks wondered how much she should say of the Brewersbridge Council's affairs. "Sir—pardon, if I do not know the correct address—" He took her up at once.

"Lady, it is our mistake. We thought you would not care to be precise. I am Master-trader Addo Verkinson Aldonfulk, sixth son of my father's house: the polite address in Common would be Master-trader Addo Aldonfulk, or Master Addo if in haste. This my companion is journeyman-trader Ebo Gnaddison Gnarrinfulk, the fourth son of my father's third sister: he should be styled Journeyman Ebo. And thine own naming?"

"Master-trader Addo—" Paks got that far before losing track. The gnome nodded anyway.

"That will do."

"—I am Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter, of Three Firs—"

"Three Firs is thy clan?"

"No, Master-trader Addo; it is the place of my father's dwelling." Paks found her own speech becoming both stilted and formal.

"Ah. We know that some humans have no clans." He paused as Hebbinford himself returned with a large flagon of ale and three tankards. "Be welcome to ale as the guest of Aldonfulk, Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter; no obligation is thine for partaking of this gift."

Paks stared, then caught her wits back. "I thank you, Master-trader Addo." She took the tankard he offered, and sipped cautiously. "You asked of my employment, sir. The Council of Brewersbridge has, as you may know, a policy against idle swordsmen in the town."

The gnome nodded. "An excellent policy. Human towns are too lawless as it is and human vagabonds cause trouble. We allow no masterless humans in the gnome kingdoms."

Paks reddened, but went on. "Master-trader Addo, the Council examined me, and decided that I might stay some time, but they asked a favor."