the mule not in harness would have to be tethered to the rear. It was possible to switch them off to keep them fresh, but a dreadful nuisance to harness and unharness in the middle of the day.
But when the young man pushed the rig out, Talaysen knew that without a shadow of a doubt-if the mules were up to it-this was exactly what they'd been looking for.
It slept four; two in one bed at the rear, and two in narrow single bunks along the sides that doubled as seating. There was ample storage for twice what they carried; the harness was coiled neatly in the box built beneath the right-hand bunk. There was even a tiny 'kitchen' arrangement that could be used in foul weather, and a charcoal stove to keep it warm in the winter.
'Can the little mules pull it?' he asked Gwyna and her fellow Gypsy. She looked over at the man. 'Vargians,' she said.
He nodded. 'No problem. It's built light, lighter than it looks.' He showed them, by pushing it forward by himself. 'I had Vargians. The harness is already rigged for them.' Then he sighed and made mournful eyes at his wife, who did her best to hide her smile of triumph. 'Looks like the Lady meant this rig for you. I'd best resign myself to being off the road till the little ones are marriage-high.'
Gwyna then began some spirited bargaining, that ended with them shaking hands and most of Talaysen's money joining hers. The wife looked even happier at that, which made him guess that she had some plans for the unexpected windfall.
'Bring the mules here, and I'll harness her and you can drive her over,' the man said, looking less resigned and more content by the moment. That eased Talaysen's mind quite a bit; he would never have willingly deprived someone of a cherished dream, however impractical it was.
They returned to camp and Gwyna took charge of the mules, leaving Talaysen and Rune to divide the chores of breaking camp. There wasn't much to do, since they'd be reloading everything into the wagon; and shortly after they were finished, burying the little garbage they'd produced in the fire-pit, covering it with the ashes, and putting the frame of the half-shelter over it all, Gwyna appeared, driving the wagon up the road, with the mules moving briskly and looking altogether content to be in harness.
It was a matter of moments to load the wagon and stow everything. Talaysen was amazed at how pleased and proprietary he felt. 'Now what?' he asked Gwyna.
'Now we drive back to town, leave the wagon at a stable for safe-keeping, and go up to the market to buy what we need. Oil for cooking, oil for the lamps, harness-mending kit, salt and fodder for the mules-' She looked over at Rune.
'Hmm. Flour, salt, honey; some vegetables that keep well. Spices. A couple of pots and a frying pan.' Rune's brow wrinkled as she thought. 'Featherbeds, if we're going to winter over in there. Charcoal for the stove. A bit of milk. Cider. Oh, a fresh-water keg, there doesn't seem to be one. Currycomb, brush and hoof-pick. I think that's it.'
'That sounds about right,' Gwyna agreed. 'If I can get some eggs, I'd like to.'
Talaysen grinned, completely at sea in this barrage of domesticity, and perfectly content-
'A chicken,' he said, suddenly. 'Bacon. The bacon will keep fairly well. Sausage and cheese.' He tried to remember what the family horses had needed. 'Oh, blankets for both mules; they'll need them in the winter.'
'Good.' Gwyna nodded. 'Now, the big question; have we enough money for all that?'
They put their heads and their resources together, and decided that they did-if they skipped the bacon and chicken, and bargained well.
'Split up?' Rune asked.
Gwyna shook her head. 'Better stay together. Master Wren, try and look pinch-pursed and disapproving, as if everything we're buying is a luxury.'
He set his face obediently in a scowl, and she chuckled. 'That'll do. Rune, we'll take turns. When we get into a sticky spot, the other one will jump in and say 'He's cheating you,' or something like that.'
'Good, and look like the vendor's a thief.'
'Exactly.' Gwyna surveyed the marketplace. 'Well, shall we attack?'
The market wasn't as large as some, but it was held every day, rather than just one day a week. Talaysen found his part altogether easy, and watched the women bargain with the stall-keepers like a couple of seasoned housewives. At the vegetable stall, Rune leaned over and pointed out the discolored places caused by insects that might hide soft-spots or larvae, and gave the poor man a glare as if he'd put them there himself. He capitulated immediately. The cheese-maker was a fellow Gypsy, and so came in only for some good-natured bantering. The miller was condescending, and the women bent their entire attention on him, and to both his and Talaysen's amazement, actually caught him cheating, with sacks with gravel weighting the bottom. When they threatened to expose him there and then, he gave them their flour. They then went back to the cheese-maker and betrayed his secret. Gwyna grinned nastily as they went on to the charcoal-maker.
'He won't be able to get away with that anymore,' she said. 'I suspect the only reason he's gotten by this long is because he only pulls that trick on strangers. But short measure's against the law, and he knows it. He could be pilloried for that.' She looked well content. 'Once we get the charcoal, we'll have everything we need, I think.'
It was at just that moment that Talaysen felt ghostly fingers on his pouch. He reached back, quick as a striking snake, and caught a wrist. A bony wrist; he pulled on it, hauling the owner forward before he could bolt.
The owner made not a sound as Talaysen dragged him-for it was a 'he'-around to the front of them.
'What-?' Rune said in surprise, then nodded. 'So. Someone who didn't do well at the Faire, hmm?'
'Caught a light-fingers?' Gwyna asked mildly. She crossed her arms and stared at the boy, who dropped his gaze to his bare, dirty feet. 'You should know better than to try that game with a Gypsy, sirrah. We invented that game.'
The thief was a lot older than Talaysen had expected; roughly Rune's or Gwyna's age. Undersized, though, for his age; he didn't top Gwyna by more than an inch. The bones under Talaysen's hand were sharp; the bones of the face prominent. Three-quarters starved and filthy, with an expression of sullen resignation, he made no effort whatsoever to escape.
Talaysen shook him a little. 'Have you anything to say for yourself before I turn you over to the constables?' he asked. There was a flash of fear in the boy's face as he looked up, but then he dropped his eyes again and simply shook his head.
'He doesn't look much like a thief, does he?' Rune mused. 'At least, not a good thief. I thought they tended to look a bit more prosperous.'
Gwyna tilted her head to one side, and considered the boy. 'You're right, he doesn't. He looks to me like someone who's desperate enough to try anything, including picking a pocket, but he doesn't look much like a real thief.'
Talaysen thought privately that what the boy looked like was bad-blood and bone. But he held his peace; though no stranger would know it, Gwyna had already warmed to this rag-man.
'I don't think you should turn him over to anyone,' Rune continued. The boy looked up, quickly, surprise then apprehension flashing over his face, before he dropped his eyes again. Talaysen sighed.
'I don't think we should turn him over to anyone, either,' Gwyna put in. She reached over and shook the boy's shoulder. 'Here, you-if we feed you and give you a chance to clean up, will you promise not to run off until we've talked to you?'
He looked up again, and the expression of bewildered gratitude made Talaysen abruptly revise his opinion. That was not the expression of a bad youngster-it was more along the lines of a beaten dog who has just been patted instead of whipped. Maybe there was something worth looking into with this boy after all.
The boy nodded violently, and Talaysen released the hold he had on the boy's wrist. The youngster rubbed it a little, but made no move to escape, even though he probably could have gotten away in the crowd.
'Here,' Gwyna said, shoving her load of packages at him. He took them, automatically, his eyes widening with surprise as he staggered beneath the weight. 'Make yourself useful and carry these for me. Come along.'
The boy followed her with complete docility. Or perhaps he was just stunned. If he was about Gwyna's age, he might not be too eager to run away at this point. Older men than he had been stunned by Gwyna on a fairly regular basis.
Talaysen smiled a little; there was a method to Gwyna's seeming foolishness. With that much burdening him,
