“Think how much we’ll need a hot soak when we come out of the park,” said the elderly Strongbrow man Radnal had tagged as someone spending the silver he’d made in his earlier years (to his embarrassment, he’d forgotten the fellow’s name). “It’s not so bad for these Highheads here, since their bodies are mostly bare, but all my hair will be a greasy mess by the time this excursion is done.” He glared at Radnal as if it were his fault.

Toglo zev Pamdal said, “Don’t fret, freeman vez Maprab.” Benter vez Maprab, that’s who he was, Radnal thought, shooting Toglo a grateful glance. She was still talking to the old Strongbrow: “I have a jar of waterless hair cleaner you can just comb out. It’s more than I’d need; I’ll share some with you.”

“Well, that’s kind of you,” Benter vez Maprab said, mollified. “Maybe I should have brought some myself.”

You certainly should, you old fool, instead of complaining, Radnal thought. He also noted that Toglo had figured out what she’d need before she started her trip. He approved; he would have done the same had he been tourist rather than guide. Of course, if he’d arranged to forget his own waterless hair cleaner, he could have borrowed some from her. He exhaled through his nose. Maybe he’d been too practical for his own good.

Something small and dun-colored darted under his donkey’s hooves, then bounced away toward a patch of oleander. “What was that?” several people asked as it vanished among the fallen leaves under the plants.

“It’s one of the species of jerboa that live down here,” Radnal answered. “Without more than two heartbeats’ look, I couldn’t tell you which. There are many varieties, all through the Bottomlands. They lived in arid country while the inland sea still existed, and evolved to get the moisture they need from their food. That preadapted them to succeed here, where free water is so scarce.”