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counters in shops; breaking into shops or homes when the owners were away. He never stole things of high enough value to cause great excitement, just items which could be sold for enough to keep him going day to day. This wasn’t the first time he’d been caught in the act, but size and bluster had let him intimidate those who’d tried to stop him in the past.
    This pissant kid though, hadn’t backed off like others had. Bork had worried the kid would go crying to the ferrymen, but had counted on the ferrymen’s sullen disdain for their passengers to keep them from getting involved. Besides, there would be no way for the caravaners to prove the knife was theirs and not his.
    Few towns had any kind of policing and Bork moved from place to place. By the time a town that did have a police force started to recognize Bork might be a problem, he had moved on to his next victims.
    He really hadn’t expected to have any serious trouble with the caravan kid. Now he wondered what had happened to him. At one moment he’d been threatening the kid; then he’d started feeling dizzy. A little like he’d been drunk, even though he hadn’t had anything to drink. Bork had staggered, then fallen. Never completely unconscious, he remembered with humiliation the kid taking the knife he’d dropped and moving off with it.
    Bork’s confusion and dizziness gradually wore back off, but left him unable to understand how the kid had beaten him. Was the kid some kind of witch?
    Finally, Bork got up and moved off into the town. That kid had better hope Bork didn’t run into him after dark. If he did, Bork would teach him not to mess with his betters.
     
    Tarc felt relieved to see the big thief had moved off before they finally got the wagon unloaded and their team of mules straightened out. They slowly pulled the wagon up the rise to the town of Denton’s Crossing, following the guard wagon to the market area. Tarc wondered whether this town would be big enough to have some baths. He’d been missing the hot soaks from their old tavern.
    The market area proved to be outside the walls of Denton’s crossing. They circled the wagons, but someone said that in the event of a major attack the town was supposed to allow them to drive their wagons inside the walls.
    Of course, they would be expected to help man the walls for mutual protection.
    Once they had set up their own little camp, the Hyllises began preparing dinner for the rest of the caravan. As the caravan had to cross the river one wagon at a time, it took the entire afternoon for the rest of the caravan to arrive. With hours to prepare the meal, Eva began simmering a huge pot of black beans spiced with some of the herbs she grew on top of their little trailer. She also roasted pork to put in the beans and serve on the side. Once that was underway, Tarc and Daum went over to the actual market where they set up the little stall where the Hyllises would sell moonshine, sweets, and healing.
     
    Glad to be busy, Kazy pitched in hard to help Eva prepare the evening meal. When she didn’t have work to keep her mind busy, for instance when she was walking the day away beside the wagon, her mind wandered back to her family. Or worse, to the days she spent enslaved by the raiders.
    Once they had the beans and the pork going, Kazy was able to spend time with Daussie, making toffee sweets for sale the next day.
    So far her time as a member of Eva’s family had been much better than she’d expected. No one had tried to break her attachment to Daussie so far, or for that matter even commented on it. Each night she had managed to place her bedroll beside Daussie’s so she’d feel safe. Somehow Daussie seemed invincible to Kazy. Almost as if Daussie had killed or driven away the raiders, rather than whatever mystery group who had actually done it.
    Kazy had even managed to spend some time away from Daussie. She’d nearly panicked the first time she’d been separated from her cousin. When