"You know they don't use drugs in the Meethouse any more, Yucof. My mother's patrols practically live there."

He said, "I know."

He kept staring at the complex.

Then he said, voice low, "What would you give me for the intact writings of a Basc herbalist from the Covenant era? Everything you wanted to know about how Destiny was made in this valley, down to the exact detail?"

I laughed. "Do I look like I want to die? You're speaking hypothetically, of course."

He said nothing.

"Come on, Yucof. The old herbalists are long gone. Where would you get that kind of information?"

He stood up, white braid swinging against his shoulder. "I've got a deal to conduct in Rudder. I should turn in, get an early start in the morning."

His chair still wobbled on granite as he set his drained mug on the barrel. He shuffled down the path to where he'd parked his wagon on a broad plateau. I spent a moment watching him go, too stunned to move.

Then I sprinted after him in the growing dark. By the time I reached his cart, Yucof had lowered his awnings and bolted his storage compartments shut, leaving only his living quarters open to the night. I hopped onto a flatbed and ducked inside.

He reached behind me and lowered a hinged door, leaving only a thin flue for ventilation. A single lantern threw exaggerated shadows around us until he raised its wick.

I said, "There is no deal in Rudder."

"No. Of course not." Bitterness edged his voice. "But HeadWind is almost out of Yata to eat and my scavenging hasn't been so good lately. I need to get her a body, and I can't think of a better source for Yata bodies than you, if you're amenable to a trade."

Ale soured in my stomach. "You're scaring me, Yucof."

"You think I'm scaring you now. Sit."