"I'm not interested."

"You should be." The man had a thin, avian face, the eyes hooded, the mouth pursed. "Need I remind you that education does not come cheap? That to fail an examination could mean the loss of years of effort? Isn't it logical to take all precautions against that happening?"

Dumarest said flatly, "I told you I'm not interested. You're wasting your time. Now just move on and stop bothering me."

He finished the tisane as the stranger moved away in search of a more gullible victim. He could even find one; some scared and timid youth desperate at the thought of failure and willing to buy an imagined security. More likely the relative of a student would fall for his lies and hand the expensive rubbish over as a final gift. In either case both would have paid for their folly.

Setting down the empty mug, Dumarest moved from the tent and paused on the wide path running between the facing booths. Between two of them he could see the area beyond; more open, thronged now with little groups, studded with stands selling drinks, comestibles, gaudy confections. A scene lit with the burning hues of torches set high on slender poles; chemical flares casting patches of somber browns, smoldering oranges, dusty blues, intense purples, vivid greens, burning yellows, savage reds. Circus colors augmented by the blaze of stars covering the sky in a myriad of glittering points, the sheets and curtains of luminescence, the silver glow of triple moons.

From somewhere down the midway came the thud of drums and a sudden burst of laughter; strained amusement too raucous to be genuine, sounds made to cover an aching grief, a fear, an anxiety grown too great. Those gathered had not come for the fun available but to make their farewells- all wearing the dun-colored robe would be taking ships for Ascelius, the vessels themselves now ranked on the field or heading into orbit.