The night before they reached Grange, Tom asked everyone what they wanted to do. He figured that it would be safe for him to go into town himself so long as he used a different name, but wondered whether the elves thought it would be worth the risk for them to enter the town as well. He knew that these weeks on the road were hard on the elves because the weather kept getting colder. He wouldn't mind a night in a heated room himself.

  Arven, Orvan, Diavla and Brallik were in favor of staying out of the city; the rest wanted to risk it. Once they had decided that at least one wagon was going in, nobody wanted to be left behind, so they agreed to stick together and try to find an inn that would let them slip in while fully bundled up.

  Late in the afternoon, on the Threeday that the elves called Belvar 25, their wagons rolled up to the gate of Grange. The wall was nothing special; it was a palisade with extra spikes, basically. There were two guards and a short wait. The taller one spoke in a bored tone.

  “Name and purpose?”

  Tom gave him his friendliest smile. “Thomas Trapper, here to sell furs and get a night out of the cold. Is this a good place to sell, or should I keep them for Fort Fury?”

  “Up to you. Where are you coming from?”

  “Rivermarch. Southby, most recently. It's been a hard three weeks.”

  “How many people?”

  “Twelve, counting two kids.” At that, the second guard silently walked towards the back of the lead wagon. Tom trusted the elves to look innocent and kept his body relaxed. Meanwhile, the first guard kept talking to him.

  “They been with you the whole way?”

  “Picked up half of them in Middleton, actually. Everybody wants to get to Fort Fury before the snows hit, but we could really use warm rooms for a night. Can you recommend an inn?”

  “For a dozen people, you might try Drake Iron. He's got two houses for rent sometimes. We don't have a lot of tavern rooms in town, and I think they're mostly full already. Go up Main, take the second right and Drake's is the one with the blue stone foundation.”

  “Second right, blue foundation. Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your stay and spend some coin.” The guard took a step back.

  Tom's grin widened. “We will! Especially if I can sell tomorrow!” He got the wagon rolling and entered Grange.

  The town was much more wood than stone. The mountains were still too far away for easy quarrying, apparently, or else the town was too poor to afford the stone. The people on the streets did not seem especially tense, so despite the spreading news of the demon, no one was panicking. I suppose the news that the demon was killed means that the remaining copies of Quazulin are far away and considered someone else's problem.

  They made their way to Drake Iron's building without incident, and Tom called Piper to hold the reins while he went inside. As usual, the girl jumped quickly to be helpful. She's useful to have around. A hard worker.

  Tom hadn't even reached the door when it opened and a short, round fellow stepped out. “Hello, sir! Hello! Welcome to Grange! Can I help you?” He was clearly eager for business.

  “Housing for a dozen people overnight, to start.”

  The man's grin widened. Tom could practically see coins dancing in his eyes. “A dozen people, you say? That's quite a lot. Housing is hard to find at the moment. Very hard to find.”

  “The guard at the town gate said you were the man to see. What have you got for me?”

  “Oh, right this way, it's just down here.” The man waddled farther up the street, and Tom followed. Drake Iron stopped just a few doors up and pulled out a brass key. “There are rooms available in this building.” Tom eyed the building warily. The front seemed a bit fancy. “How long were you planning to stay?”

  “Just the one night, most likely. We're trying to make Kelligar before the snows hit.”

  “Oh, you're cutting it close, friend,” Drake tutted.

  “I know. We got delayed with one thing and another.”

  “How much?”

  “Well, let me show you the building first,” Drake asked.

  “If it's out of my range, best we both find out now. The building looks expensive.”

  “Oh, it has every amenity you could want.”

  'Amenity' sounds like it means 'feature' or something like that... “Do you have a place to keep the wagons and oxen overnight?”

  “Oh, yes, around the back is a carriage house you can use.”

  “And the price of that is included?”

  “Absolutely. The man opened the door and led Tom inside. “This building has eight rooms, well-insulated, the well is just up the street—”

  “Other tenants?”

  “None at the moment, so you'll have the building to yourselves.”

  “How much?”

  “For a day and a night, twenty silver.”

  Tom didn't even have to fake his incredulous laugh. “You're kidding! Do I look rich and stupid to you? I was expecting six for the night.”

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  “Six! That's an insult, good sir! This is a fine building!”

  “I'm sure it is, but I'm still not rich. Do you have other places?”

  “Not at present.”

  “Then I'll have to look for space in a barn outside the gates or something.”

  “Well, I'd hate to throw you out into the cold, sir. How about sixteen silver?”

  “How about eight?”

  “Sir, I have to make a living.”

  “Better eight silver than leaving the place empty, isn't it? I'm doing you a favor.”

  “Trying to rob me blind is more like it! I could go fourteen silver.”

  “Does that include meals?”

  “No.”

  “Nine silver.”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Ten.”

  “Twelve!”

  Tom shook his head. “I'll go look for a barn. Thank you for your time.”

  “Could you manage eleven, good sir? I'm cutting my profit to the bone here, sir. To the very bone.”

  Tom hesitated, then shook his head and left the building. He got a good dozen steps before Drake chased after him. The man got close and lowered his voice.

  “I'll take ten silver, but only if you keep quiet that I went that low. I'm doing you a big favor here.”

  Tom turned and offered his hand. “Deal. You're still robbing me blind, but good gods, man! Twenty? Really? Be glad I agreed to ten.”

  “Well, they say a good bargain is one nobody is happy with,” Drake grumbled. “Paid in advance, please.”

  Tom pulled out a large silver and exchanged it for the house key. Drake showed him the path around to the carriage house and excused himself. Tom returned to the wagons, climbed up and took the reins back from Piper.

  Ten minutes later, the wagons and oxen were stowed in the carriage house, and Varga and Brallik tended to the animals while everyone else unloaded packs. The elves were eager to have a fire, but the woodbin was empty. Copper pinching bastard. Tom reminded the others of their special knock, then went looking for firewood for sale.

  Assuming more shenanigans from Drake if given the chance, Tom walked in the opposite direction and wandered until he found someone willing to sell. The price was a bit high but not exorbitant, so Tom bought all he could carry. Staggering a bit under the load, he made his way back and knocked carefully.

  Finally, the elves got a fire blazing, and all huddled around it for warmth. Piper asked to go run her errands, and he cautioned her not to get lost. The blond head bobbed up and down enthusiastically, and then the girl was off like an arrow.

  Poor kid. I need to find her a good situation. If we get stuck on a farm for the winter, I could talk with the family about taking her in. Though honestly, she would be wasted as a farmhand. I should get her apprenticed to a scribe or something. But for now, she still has hope of finding her mother, and wants to wander with us.

  Tom got a shopping list from Orvan, and told Kevin and the elves that he would be taking a look around. Varga demanded a kiss and ended up wrapping her legs around his waist before it finished. Diavla's goodbye kiss started out more tame, but she was pinned against the wall, straddling his thigh and gasping before they parted.

  “I will return, tolanor,” he whispered to her in Elvish.

  “Spirits, he'll be back in a couple of hours,” Arven grumbled. “Not a season.”

  Tom shrugged with a grin, pulled his cloak about him, and set out, shutting the door carefully behind him. Now, let's see...

  It didn't take him long to find the market, which had poor pickings at the end of the day. He did manage to get a few things for Orvan to work his culinary magic upon, though. Once he had brought those back to the house, he headed out again, this time to get a feel for the mood of the city, and hopefully pick up the latest rumors.

  Grange was a decently large city—not as big as Rivermarch, more on a par with Middleton or maybe Southby. It was serviced by a stream that looked barely big enough to support the population. Could be rough around here in times of drought. Now that he was looking for them, he saw more rain barrels than in other cities.

  He found a shop that sold furs and took careful note of their prices. One of the furs was a vivid green, and when he asked, the proprietor said that all the animals from a certain farm had fur that was at least tinted green. They credited the strangeness to the well that had been dug on the property, which produced water with an odd tang to it. He thanked the man, intending to return to sell his wares, but not until he had carefully learned the prices of the furs the elves had negotiated for in Oak Mill.

  It didn't take long to discover that there were two major taverns in town: the Softest Bale and the Thirsty Wolf. They had a strong rivalry going about who had superior drinks, though the Softest Bale had better rooms and the Thirsty Wolf had a stage for singers and other performers, according to a couple of urchins. He decided to stop by each for at least a drink or two, and maybe a meal if he was out much later.

  He stopped by the Temple and tithed to Barsel, taking a moment to pray for guidance. He was no Mage or Devout, but those odd dreams he got were coming from somewhere, so he always tried to pay his respects when he could. He didn't overtly ask about news of demons, but there wasn't any excessive bustling going on, so he guessed that there wasn't anything like a crisis. He considered chatting with the guards but didn't want to draw attention to himself.

  Tom was on his way to the Thirsty Wolf when he got a surprise. He was about to pass a man headed the other way, when something about him drew Tom's attention. The stranger was thin, but heavily bundled up, and a bit on the short side. They moved smoothly around someone else, and Tom took a closer look. He couldn't be sure, but...

  “Hello?” he asked in Elvish. The man stopped and blinked at him in surprise.

  “Yes, good Sir? Yes, good Sir?” the elf answered in Elvish and Western.

  “I'm sorry, are you fully fluent in Western?”

  “Yes, good Sir. How may I be of service?”

  “I...” Tom thought about how to phrase it. “I try to be a friend to elves I meet. My name is Tom...Thomas Trapper. Do you have a moment to speak?”

  “Actually, my Mistress is expecting me...” The man lifted a bag slightly to indicate his errand.

  “Oh. May I walk with you, then?”

  “Yes, good Sir. How may I help?” Tom turned around to walk beside him, and was thrown off slightly when the elf promptly fell back half a step.

  “Ah...” Tom thought better of speaking in Western. “My Elvish is small. Please excuse me. I ask, are you happy? Is your Master good?”

  The elf looked at him in some surprise. “Yes. My Mistress is good to me. Why do you ask?” His Elvish sounded very different from Diavla and the others. Tom guessed that it was a regional accent. He had traveled enough to know that people did not say words quite the same if you went a great distance.

  “I go south. I go land, place elves are not slaves. You want, I ask buy you, take you south.”

  The elf stopped short for a moment in surprise, then shook his head and hurried to catch up. “No thank you, good Sir. My Mistress is very happy with me, and has no interest in selling me.”

  “Do you need help?” Tom persisted.

  “No. I am fine.” The elf raised an eyebrow. “May I humbly inquire as to why you are asking?”

  Tom's soul raced a moment. He hadn't expected an encounter like this, but realized that he should have. He considered what simplified version of the truth to present.

  “When I was traveling, I encountered an elf slave. She was...treated very badly. I bought her, and am trying to take good care of her. She has been teaching me Elvish. We are headed south.”

  “How is she?”

  “Improving, day by day.”

  “Are you...looking to sell her?”

  “No.”

  The elf fell silent for a few moments. “May I speak with her, if I can get permission?”

  “Uh...certainly.” Oh, he's probably suspicious of me now. Maybe he's wondering if Eubexa needs to be rescued from me.Fair enough.

  “We are almost to my Mistress's home. Would you be willing to meet her, good Sir?”

  “Yes, I would, thank you.”

  “Very well.” They walked in silence for a few moments, and then the elf stopped. “This is my Mistress' home. If you will excuse me a moment, I will enquire of her.”

  “Thank you.” Tom stopped and tried to gather his scattered thoughts as the elf walked up to a door, pulled out a key, and slipped inside. He stood on the street, stepping out of the way of traffic, and waited.

  Well, this is an interesting surprise.