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became a mage, but I do not. Perhaps you could shed a word or two about how you came to Fairhaven.”
    “I’m afraid that my life is quite common, compared to yours,” Cerryl protested.
    “Best we should judge that. A man’s no judge of himself.”
    “Well… as Leyladin might have told you, I’m an orphan. Both my parents died when I was so young I remember neither. I was raised by my aunt and uncle…” Cerryl went on to detail his years at the mines, his apprenticeship at Dylert’s mill, and then his work as an apprentice scrivener for Tellis. “… and then, one day, one of the overmages arrived at the shop and summoned me to meet with the High Wizard. He examined me and decided I was suitable to be a student mage. That took two years, and last harvest the Council made me a full mage… a very junior mage. Now I’m one of those who guard the gates to Fairhaven.”
    “Good thing, too.” Layel shook his head. “I don’t mind as paying the tariffs and taxes for the roads, but I’d mind more than a hogshead full of manure if the smugglers got off with using the roads and then coming into the city and selling for less than I could.”
    “Father… no one sells for less.”
    “They could. Aye, they could. Take stuff in Spidlaria and sneak through Axalt or take the old back roads from Tyrhavven, and afore you know it they’d be in the Market Square .”
    “Doesn’t everyone pay the taxes?” Cerryl asked.
    “No. Even all the mages in the Halls couldn’t find every ferret who turns a good. That’s not the task of the city patrol, either. They keep the peace, not the trade laws. Thank the light, don’t need armsmen to make trade and tariffs work, not in the city, anyway. See… there’s coins in Fairhaven, and the best roads are the White highways, the ones that can take the big wagons.” Layel shrugged. “So traders and exchanges are here. Smaller traders can take carts over the back roads, but most times they can’t carry that much, and the Traders’ Guild makes sure the road gauges are kept.”
    “The road gauges?” asked Leyladin.
    Cerryl had the feeling she had asked the question for him, but he was grateful. He’d never heard of the road gauges.
    “You should remember, Daughter. If a road is more than four cubits wide, it’s a highway, and the ruler must collect tariffs, and only those with the medallions may use it. See, that way, the pony traders have to go on the slow and muddy tracks that wind out of the way. And most times, a trader with fast teams and wagons is a prosperous trader, and the great highways are fast.”
    Cerryl nodded. Another fact he’d not known.
    “Meridis! What have we for sweets?”
    The serving woman reappeared. “Be you ready for sweets, ser?”
    “Why’d you think I called?” Layel’s stern expression dissolved into a chuckle.
    “Father… you don’t have to put on the stern front for company.”
    “Can’t even be master in my own dwelling, not even over sweets.” The trader glanced at Cerryl. “You’ll see… leastwise, much as a mage can that way.”
    “Father…”
    “Fellow ought to know.” Layel turned to Meridis. “Sweets?”
    “I baked a fresh nut and custard pie.”
    “Wonderful! It takes company for me to get my favorite.”
    “It does not,” suggested Leyladin. “You always tell poor Meridis not to bother because you’d look like a shoat if she fixed it just for you.”
    “You see?” asked Layel. “An answer for everything.”
    Cerryl nodded, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the banter and byplay.
    “Then let’s have it.”
    The empty dishes vanished into the next room, a kitchen, Cerryl thought, but he was far from certain about anything, and Meridis returned with three smaller china plates, each filled with a golden-crusted pie.
    “Try it,” urged the trader.
    “It is good,” added Leyladin. “Rich, but good.”
    Everything felt rich to Cerryl, but he took a small bite and then a larger one. Before he fully realized it,