“Oh, for Vutan’s sake,” said Evelie, the Mage-smith, shoving the mayor aside. “I swear, I am going to run against you next year, you useless waste of air, and you can go back to swindling children out of their pocket money.” She snatched some rolled-up documents from the mayor’s limp hand. “This gives you all the authority you need to do whatever you want to do with the Karsites when you find them,” she said, thrusting the documents at Jicks. Jicks took them. “If you want the reward, bring back something to prove you put them in the ground. Please don’t make it anything that rots.” She took a bundle of leather away from a boy who looked as if he was working on the same set of muscles she had, and handed it to Abi. “Saw you favored knives. These aren’t my work, they’re my teacher’s. She said they were ‘special,’ ‘good against evil,’ and her Master Works. Better Mage and a smith than me, but not real articulate. I’m only lending them to you, understand,” she added. “I expect you to bring them right back to my shop when you’re done. Same for you,” she added, taking a longer bundle from the same boy and giving it to Stev. “You get to borrow the sword of the set.”

Abi peeked inside the oiled leather. The knives, from what she could see, were exceptionally fine. Better than anything she currently had with her.

“Anyway,” Evelie continued, turning to the Masters. “We’d appreciate it if you three gentlemen can see to the wall being rebuilt, and we’ll load up your wagon and send you on your way back home. That’s it.” She spread her hands wide.

“Well, this does take care of possible international incidents,” Stev admitted wryly.

“But I have to say, if I were you, I wouldn’t advise your King to go bringing an army down here,” warned a third man, one extremely well dressed. “At least, not until I can reconvene the same delegation as before and we can agree to such a step. And we would be far more likely to hire our own mercenaries than invite your Guard, at least until we can agree we are joining Valdemar proper.”

“Ah,” said Stev. “There it is.” He looked at the three Masters as if to say I told you so.

Then he stood up, and shook the hands of everyone who had come trooping in here. “I think we all agree on all points,” he said. “With one exception.”

“What would that be?” asked Evelie, sounding suspicious.

“That you do something about the food you’ve been serving us,” Stev said. “Please. ‘Master’ isn’t just a pretty title. All four of our Masters are the equivalent of any of your Guild Masters, and you’ve been serving them peasant swill. Rude, don’t you think?”