The vendor leaned forward. “Name is Bob-John. And I sell powders. Mostly clearing powders. A few others too, communication and such.”

That rang a bell, but I didn’t think Gran had covered it with me, or if she had it had been brief. I didn’t think clearing powder would help me with training. “You get many trainees for the Hollows Group come through here?”

Bob-John nodded. “A few. You want to know which tables they visited?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

“It’ll cost you.”

No surprise there. I narrowed my eyes. I wasn’t about to give him money for nothing. “How much is your clearing powder?”

He blinked. “Ten a box.”

“I’ll buy one, and you’ll tell me where the others went.” I pulled a ten out of my pocket and held it out to him. He took hold of it, but I didn’t let go.

“You don’t need his stuff!” Sarge yelled.

I kept my eyes on Bob-John. “Think I should listen to him? Or are you smarter than the wolf over there?”

Bob-John puffed up a little under what he no doubt assumed was praise. “Weapons, armor, spells, all the attack stuff,” he said. “But if you ask me, a few books wouldn’t be a bad idea too. Maybe a bit more smarts in you than the usual lugs they bring through.”

I let the ten-dollar bill go and held my hand out. He plunked a rhinestone-encrusted box into my palm, and I tucked it into my other pocket. “Thanks, Bob-John. Nice doing business with you.”

Bob-John slid back into his chair which put him into the shadows a bit, and I continued on down the street.

I passed by a table with a lot of dried dead things on it, including several chicken feet and a stack of mummified mice. The next was a table with piles of tarot cards and crystals, none of which I considered necessary for my training. But the next table and vendor were interesting, and I found myself pausing there. The table was strewn with leather of all colors and shapes, along with chunks of a variety of metals, none of it in any particular order.

“Scraps?” I ran my hand over a particularly soft piece of leather that felt more like velvet than something that had once been an animal hide. Light tan in color, it could be dyed to be any shade under the rainbow.

A slim woman stepped forward. The hard lines around her eyes told me she was at least my age, although more likely in her fifties. “You are not the usual type they bring through.” She tipped her head toward Sarge trailing me by about fifteen feet. Watching, but not helping.

I looked over my shoulder at him, still irritated by his unwillingness to help. “Sit. Stay.”

He hunched his shoulders and glowered at me but didn’t come any closer. The woman laughed softly, though there was some grit to her voice, like maybe she didn’t smoke now, but used to.