“You mean ‘Who?’—‘Who did I do?’” she said lightly. “Or who didn’t I do? I guess I was meant for this work.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

She regarded him coolly. Why all the questions? “Most of the time,” she lied.

He smiled. “How did you learn about heybrin?”

She considered the motion of the platten. It was still moving slowly. They couldn’t have gone far, but the more he talked the further they travelled from Main Street. Was he trying to intimidate her into forgoing her fee for the sake of escaping him? Well, it wasn’t going to work.

“I…my grandmother knew a lot about herbs and magic. She taught me. Mother said she shouldn’t have taught me how to stop babies until I was married, but…” Emerahl smiled wryly. “My grandi knew me better.”

“My grandmother used to say people will always have vices, so you may as well profit from them.” He frowned. “My father is the opposite. Very moral. He’d hate to see me now. He took our money out of her ‘immoral ventures’ and put it all into the eastern mountains. We’ve made a lot of money out of rare woods and mining.”

Suddenly she understood what was going on. He was the kind of customer who liked to talk. Well, he had mentioned wanting stimulating conversation. She may as well play along. If she humored him she might learn something—and if she proved a good listener he might become a regular customer.

“Sounds like he made the right decision, then,” she said.

He grimaced. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. The searches at the gates have slowed traffic and we’ve lost custom because of it. I don’t know why they bother. If a priest with mind-reading Gifts can’t find this sorceress, who can? Now there are rumors the White are going to ally with the Siyee, who want the land we own.”

“The White?”

“Yes. The Siyee sent ambassadors to the White Tower. Apparently one of the White has left to visit Si. The newest one. I guess it’s too much to hope that she’ll mess it up out of inexperience.”

Emerahl shook her head. “Who are the White?”

He turned to stare at her. “You don’t know? How can you not know?”

Something in his tone told her that she had revealed herself ignorant in a matter that every modern man and woman knew well. She shrugged. “My home is remote. We didn’t even have a priest.”

His eyebrows rose. “Well, then. No wonder you ran away.”

Ran away? She hadn’t said that, but perhaps he had sensed in her manner that she was lying and guessed at the reason. Running away was a likely story for a young woman on the streets.

“The White are the highest of the Circlian priests and priestesses,” he explained. “The Gods’ Chosen. Juran is the first, then Dyara, Mairae, Rian, and now Auraya.”