Before she had gone three steps, the sylph was back. “They will meet you at the back table!” the little thing said, and sped off, without even asking for a treat of magical energy.

The “back table” was the one farthest from the tables where the food was dished out. It was generally the last to be filled, which made it a good place to have a semiprivate conversation.

She hurried off to the mess tent, only to find the other three already waiting there with solemn expressions on their faces. She got her food and joined them, and before she even sat down, Cody spoke.

“So, we intrudin’ on somebody’s claim, or what?” he asked, looking concerned.

“I tried to explain, but I have an insufficient knowledge of how these things work in the Black Forest,” added Kellermann.

She blinked several times, as she tried to sort out just what Cody was asking. Finally a possible definition for the word “claim”—related to gold and silver prospecting—surfaced in her memory.

“The Brotherhood of the Foresters is something like sheriffs and deputies,” she said, slowly. “It is not that they have staked a claim to an area, it is that they have taken the job of protecting ordinary folk from the bad magic and bad magicians within that part of the country. This is usually done by groups known as Hunting Lodges. The Brotherhood of the Foresters is somewhat unusual in that their area extends to the entire Schwarzwald, not merely one city or town within it.”

“So—like Texas Rangers.” Cody relaxed. “So a gunslinger comes t’town, sheriff comes t’make sure he ain’t gonna make trouble, that it?”

“That’s close enough,” she decided aloud. They certainly don’t need to know about my . . . misadventure. “My Mother was known to the Brotherhood, and it was two of their number that taught me to shoot. When she died, I found myself without income to support myself. I was advised to come ask the Brotherhood for their advice, and possibly help.” True enough, although that came afterward . . . “I was on the way to one of the Lodges when I encountered the show, and the rest, you already know.”

“So, what’s this feller got t’say about you—an’ us?” Cody wanted to know.

“First of all, he is a she. Her name is Rosamund von Schwarzwald and she is . . . very highly placed,” she warned. “She is a Hunt Master, someone who decides when a threat is dangerous enough to warrant sending an entire Hunting Party instead of a single member of the Brotherhood, and the person who would lead that Hunting Party. Other than that, I believe she merely wishes to meet with you and assess you.”