“I’ll toss in the halter he’s wearing. That’s about it.”

“How much do you want for him?”

“Ten hectors.”

My jaw dropped. I shrugged. “Sorry to have wasted your time.” Good horses were a lot more expensive than I’d thought, but the plugs up the street looked like they’d die in the next fortnight.

A dire thought came to me. Perhaps I’d have to stay in Franner’s Bend and take whatever work I could find. Perhaps this was my journey’s end. I clenched my jaw, shocked at how my whole soul revolted at the idea. I didn’t want to stay anyplace where I might be recognized as Nevare Burvelle. I had to go on, I had to go east to the new life I would build. But I couldn’t without a horse. My blood bubbled with frustration, and something more. I spoke my thought aloud. “I cannot pay that much. But I must have this horse to go on. Can’t you make me a better price?”

The man’s jaw dropped at my bold words. He literally goggled at me, as if I’d hit him with a club rather than baldly stated my need. Plainly I’d insulted him by speaking the truth. Before he could rant at me, I turned away. “Hey!”

I turned back to Jirry’s shout. He looked upset. I braced myself for a tirade, but he looked more confused than angry. “I thought we were striking a bargain here. Don’t walk away from me.”

I lifted my hands and let them fall. “You’re asking far more than I can pay.”

“So. What would you pay for him?” He had his fists on his hips, leaning toward me as if I’d already insulted him. “What’s he worth to you?” I spoke carefully. “I won’t presume to tell you the value of your stock. You’ve named your price, sir. Frankly, I don’t have it. Even if I did, I couldn’t afford to spend that much on a horse without tack. I’ve a long way to go.”

He got that addled look again, and then said reluctantly. “I might have a Plains saddle that would fit him.”

“It’s still more than I can afford. I’m sorry.” I turned again. The man actually stepped in front of me. His face was reddened. “Make me an offer, before you walk away,” he growled.

It offended me to the roots of my soul. I’d been raised as the son of a nobleman. I was not a traveling tinker, to stand in the street and haggle price. A flush of shame spread up my cheeks. Was this what I had come to? Nevertheless, I steeled myself and revealed the extent of my finances.

“The most I could give for any horse right now is five hectors.”

“Oh! You’re robbing me! You can’t imagine I’d sell that animal for half what he’s worth!” The volume of his outraged shout turned heads toward us. I spoke stiffly. “Of course I don’t expect you to sell him for half your asking price. But five hectors is the most I can offer. Good day.” Before I could turn away, he’d seized the sleeve of my shirt.