The merchant in the green scarf asked for water before asking about trade.
Chaska pointed toward the well. He thanked her, made no move to fetch any, and looked at the packs again.
His companion had carried two baskets into the clearing. There were mushrooms in the upper layers, fresh enough that Ysabet could smell them. Beneath the rim of one basket she saw the squared edge of folded canvas. A third man remained with the carts.
Ashaun stood. The stone end of her left arm rested against the trunk beside her.
“What are you selling?” she asked.
“Winter caps. Dried fans. A little mountain salt.”
“You’ve come a long way for a poor market.”
“The northern road was closed.”
