The market at Salt Bench had six permanent stalls, a covered forge and an excellent opinion of itself.
Sall Merin began arguing with a seller before he had both feet off the path. Dema ignored him, took the animals to the booked stable and told the others when they would leave. The light road had brought them to the sixty-second kilometre on the five hundred and fourth day. They had time for a meal, a proper rest and any purchase they could carry afterward.
Iven found a coat-mender beneath the forge’s side awning.
She picked apart the temporary road stitching along his upper sleeve and held the cloth between two fingers.
“Staff?”
“Yes.”
“Did you get hit again while admiring this one?”
“No.”
