“We will go soon, I think,” the man said. His common speechwas soft, slightly accented, his voice low and resonant. His cheekbones were high, his eyes golden-brown and tipped up at the corners. He looked young and vigorous from a distance, and only at close range could one make out fine lines around his eyes and a few gray hairs in the neat beard. “The horses do notrequire much more rest, since we did not push them hard today. Not even the packhorse of the priests, laden as it is. Even your horse-” He ducked hishead politely as the woman rounded on him. “Your pardon, Eddis.”

The woman’s mouth quirked. Her eyes were deep blue, and asshe looked at him, some of the fire went from them. She was still visibly nervy.

“All right, M’Baddah. Apology accepted, my friend. I know.You’re doing your best to get me over that stupid horse of mine. Feather! Whatfool would name a foul brute like that?”

“His previous owner, who wished to find a buyer for thebrute, as you call him? A buyer like his current owner, who chose for pretty and for price, rather than testing him thoroughly first, as I suggested at the time. The horse is an attractive fellow, and when he wishes, he does indeed move smoothly as a feather.”

“Hah.”

That was just like M’Baddah, Eddis thought. Trying to talkher out of a foul mood. It upset the clients, he reminded her. It took her attention and her energy from things that mattered-such as keeping the clientssafe. Hah, she told herself. Not one client so much as scratched in my care! And as for my moods-well, my clients know what they’re getting. By now, they shouldknow. I’ve got a reputation, after all. A corner of her mind was uncomfortablyaware he was probably right, but she was too cold and stiff and-yes-nervy, to besoothed just now.