She and Larral edged from one bit of cover to the next—here a pile of crates, there a corner of a tent, until they ended up next to Perry, who was flat on his stomach behind a water barrel, watching the side of a particularly big tent up ahead of them.

“Larral says that’s where the purse went,” he whispered. “Got any ideas how we can get closer?”

She spotted a couple of boxes not far from their target. What we need is an excuse to wander up to those openly and sit down on them and loiter. “We’re right near the stockyards,” she whispered back. “Let’s get over there and see if we can find some halters that need mending.”

They crawled out backward until they were out of sight of the tent, then followed their noses and ears to the stockyard itself, picking the section for oxen, horses, donkeys, and mules.

It didn’t take much persuasion to get a couple of people to part with halters in dire need of fixing for a couple of coppers. And that wasn’t an odd request. Younglings like the two of them often bought bits of harness in need of fixing, mended them, and resold them again at a small profit. It was one of the few ways by which someone whose only skills were as an animal tender could make a little extra money to spend at the Fair.

They returned to the back passage between the tents openly this time, casting about as if looking for a place to sit. “There!” she said aloud, pointing. “We can work there, and in the shade, too.”

Larral was nowhere in sight, but that just meant he’d found a good place to hide. Unless someone decided to attack them, he’d remain in hiding. Perry could talk to him via Animal Mindspeech, and Larral in turn was talking to their father, keeping him apprised of what was going on.

No sooner had they plunked themselves down on the crates and begun to take the halters apart than there was a slight commotion in the tent at their backs. They kept their heads down as if they were concentrating on the work in their hands, just in case someone was somehow watching, but it didn’t take much effort to make out the sounds of whimpering children.

“Shurrup an’ mind yer manners!” someone growled. “Marster’ll be ’ere soon!” The hair rose on the back of Abi’s neck. She glanced over at her brother; he caught her eyes and nodded slightly. So, Mags knew. She hoped that he had gathered the Watch and was surrounding this tent! This might be their only chance to catch the actual head of this operation!

There was the sound of flesh smacking flesh, and the whimpering stopped. There was a little more commotion, then the sound of the flap at the front of the tent opening—