“What is it like?” Rejji inquired. “Khadora, I mean.”

“Just inside the back flap is a tin with provisions, Mistake,” Brontos said. “Choose something that you can add flavor to. Fakaran food is the most bland food I have ever tasted.”

The merchant led the horses to the stream and Rejji followed him. Brontos looked at Rejji and sighed.

“It is much different than here,” the merchant finally said. “It is a well developed country with law and order. Bandits don’t survive very well there. Fakara is more like a wasteland than a country. There is no government, no laws.”

“Would you really take us with you?” questioned Rejji.

Brontos hesitated a moment as his eyes sought out Mistake at the rear of the wagon. She looked up to see Brontos watching her and scowled at him. The merchant shook his head and handed the reins to Rejji.

“When they are finished drinking,” the old man instructed, “tie them to that tree and get their feed buckets from the wagon. No more than a third of a bucket for each though.”

Brontos strode back to the wagon as Mistake closed the rear flap and carried the tin towards the fire ring. She glanced quickly at the old man and started preparing a fire.

“I don’t steal from friends you know,” she scowled.

“Well,” chuckled the merchant, “I would like very much to be your friend then. Let me help you with the fire.”

Brontos gathered the deadwood he could find easily and returned to the ring where Mistake was pawing through the tin and examining the small pouches of spices.

As Rejji returned from feeding the horses, Brontos lit the fire and sat on one of the larger rocks surrounding the ring. He pulled a pipe out of a pocket and filled it from a small pouch hanging from his belt. Rejji handed him a burning stick and sat on another of the large rocks.

“You never said if you would take us with you to Khadora,” reminded Rejji.