“A promise from you is as good as its word, Nomi.”

Nomi was smiling, and Ramus was surprised at how this man's charms affected her. He'd heard stories about Pancet, and not many of them were good.

Pancet chewed at his meat again, eyes straying over the rest of the group. They dwelled a little too long on Rhiana and Lulah, and Ramus could not help smiling. I'd like to see him try. “An interesting group,” the horse trader said. “Long voyage, Mam Hyden?”

“Just a little trip into the wilds.”

“Which wilds would they be, then?”

Nomi's wide smile was still there. She's so good, Ramus thought. So good that she sometimes fools me.

“Just a jaunt,” she said. “A trip, a walk, a ride through fields and pastures new, forests, perhaps, some mountains and marshes and a few boat trips in between.”

“Can't help being curious,” Pancet said.

“I have your money, if you have my promise slip,” Nomi said. The smile had slipped at last.

“You like the horses?” he asked, ignoring her outstretched hand.

“They're perfect,” Nomi said. “Well kept and healthy.”

“The runner you sent said not to give you any old nags.”

“Then she passed on my message well.”

“I don't keep nags, Mam Hyden. And if I did, I wouldn't sell them to you.” Pancet's voice had fallen in tone and volume, and the hand holding the meat was swinging by his side. The children hiding around his legs moved away, rushing back up the hill and giggling amongst themselves.

Nomi shrugged. “The Guild uses other breeders as well, and sometimes they're not as scrupulous as you.”

“Scrupulous,” Pancet said. He smiled. “Good word to describe me.” He looked at Ramus again, and the Serians standing beside their horses. “Yes, quite a voyage, I'm sure.”

“I have your money,” Nomi said, patting her chest pocket. “And your silence is worth a little extra, if you'd like to discuss it with me in private.”

Don't pay the fat turd a piece more, Ramus thought. He knew that Nomi was not one to be bullied, but he hated the idea that this hoodlum would gain from their need.

Pancet smiled. “I think not. That would be . . . unscrupulous of me.”

Nomi inclined her head but did not respond.

“And you're Ramus,” Pancet said, his attention shifting. “I know of you. Wise man, a reader. And I know Beko Havison too.” He turned and looked at the Serian women again, a small smile turning his lips. “So, on your way, Nomi. I never saw you.”

“I'm grateful,” Nomi said, taking a money folder from her pocket. Pancet dug in his own voluminous pockets and brought out a twist of cloth, the promise token Nomi must have sent with the runner.