Karek edged carefully along the side of the tent wall, ducking and stepping through the web of guy ropes that laced the narrow space between it and the wall of its neighbour. Behind him, Drollo cursed and nearly stumbled into him. The tent wall beside him vibrated, and a guy rope thrummed.

"Watch those big feet of yours 'Lo!" Karek whispered.

"Sorry, sir. Can't see a thing back here, it's like sneaking through a cable crawler's arse!"

Karek pressed his finger to his lips and went on, around the corner to the back of the tent, where the space was somewhat wider, but no less choked with ropes. The night was over, and the sun had cleared the horizon to cast its orange light on the bright material of Merchant Dres' tent, but that gave Karek a problem. An errant shadow cast by the sun would raise the suspicion of the tent's occupants, so he dropped down onto his hands and knees. He motioned Drollo to do the same, and then crawled forward, the thick dew on the grass soaking his trousers and chilling his hands.

They were his best trousers, and even though a bit of dew would not ruin them, he still felt a little displeasure at their spoiling, but he knew this task had to be done. He could not simply take the word of a twelve year old girl without some corroborative evidence. And it was evidence that he found. Halfway along the back of the tent, where another narrow rope-filled alley led away, the grass had been crushed down and was mottled with some dark brown stain; dried, but part diluted by the morning dew. The tent wall beside it had a meter long slash running up and down it, though it had been neatly sewn up with fresh skin twine.

He pointed at Drollo, and motioned to the ground, then he pressed a finger once more to his lips and crawled back the way he had come. He heard Drollo give a sigh, before sitting down in the wet grass opposite the newly sewn up gash.

The rest of Karek's unit were waiting for him in the wide avenue fronting Merchant Dres' tent. They were little more than Farm-boys and Ranch-hands, all of them dressed in second hand uniforms, with unfamiliar swords on their hips, half trained and undisciplined. Most of them were standing with their mouths open, watching the drama unfolding at the tent's entrance. Karek had to suppress a smile himself when he saw the scene.

The rest of the avenue was busy with soldiers going in and out of the tents of the other merchants, but the doorway of Merchant Dres' tent was barred by the looming shape of Xerekus. The creature had raised itself up on its large hind legs, while the smaller pair extended before it, talons scratching deep furrows in the earth. It had drawn its two square ended swords, and as Karek watched, he swung one of them, and it cut the air in an arc of two metres, making the Unit-leader standing before the tent jump back a pace. He stumbled as he landed, but kept his feet. He stepped forward, tugging at the bottom of his tunic in an attempt to straighten both his uniform and his dignity.

"We have orders!" he stammered as the soldiers standing behind him tried to hide their amusement. They all wore the burgundy uniform of Sir Galder.

"You have no permission."

The words came deep throated from Xerekus, rolling like rocks.

"Your master is under the jurisdiction of the Order!" the Unit-leader almost squealed. "You have no authority to keep us out!"

Xerekus swung his other sword from over his shoulder, burying a half meter of its square end in the earth between the man's feet.

"This is our authority," Xerekus' other head replied.

"Do we have a problem her, Unit-leader?" asked Karek as he strolled up to the man's shoulder.

"Karek!"

A look of relief appeared on the soldier's face.

"This creature will not give me access to his merchant's tent."

"I believe this creature has a name. Don't you Xerekus?"

Xerekus pulled its blade out of the ground, scattering dirt on the Unit-leader's trousers. It lowered one head towards him, and growled.

"I think a little delicacy is called for here," said Karek. "Would you like me to take over?"

"I have orders..." Karek clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course you do. Do they pertain specifically to this tent?"

"Well, no. We were just told to search all the tents."

"So it does not matter if I do the searching. Come now, I do not mind. We are both new to this game, and I have had dealings with this creature before."

The man looked doubtful, but then straightened up and saluted.

"Carry on then."

Karek returned the salute, and the Unit-leader led his soldiers away to find an easier duty.

Karek turned to Xerekus.

The creature regarded him with all four of its malevolent eyes.

"My good friend, Xerekus," Karek smiled. Xerekus growled. "Has Merchant Dres been informed of our desire to search his tents?"

"He is not prepared," said one head.

"He is dressing," said the other.

"You mean he is procrastinating," said Karek. "And doubtless he has gained much amusement from your antics with my colleague." One head growled again, the other pulled its bony lips back in a grin. "Well, I am quite happy to wait patiently until the good merchant is dressed. All morning if I have to."

"That will not be necessary," said a quiet voice from the door to the tent, whose flap had been roughly pushed aside.

The man standing in the door looked as ordinary as it was possible to look; average height, narrow shoulders, and an almost genial look on his ruddy cheeked face. Karek, however, knew better than to regard him as anything but deadly.

"Seior SanMartin," he said.

"Merchant Dres will see you now. Xerekus, stand down."

It one fluid movement, the two headed creature stepped aside, slid its swords over its back, where they clicked into their sheath-brackets, and folded itself down onto its legs.

"What about my men?" asked Karek.

"We know your business," said Svell SanMartin. "Bring them."

Karek motioned to his men. They pulled themselves into a semblance of discipline and marched over to him. Svell SanMartin had already retreated into the tent, and when Karek followed after he found him standing inside the empty betting chamber with another familiar figure.

"Merchant Dres," he said politely, inclining his head.

Merchant Dres was smaller than Svell SanMartin, plump around his face and his middle, but his clothes were a good deal more ostentatious. He did not look as though he had been recently roused from sleep. Behind him stood his wagon guards; a tough group of men and women in well used armour with miss-matched weaponry.

The merchant studied him as he approached. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly deep.

"I don't believe I have the pleasure of your name, Unit-leader..?"

"Karek. You know why I am here?"

"The Encampment is rife with rumours of the abduction of Commander Kralaford's child. Are they true?"

"They are unfortunately, yes."

"A terrible thing. Truly terrible."

Karek gave high marks for the merchant's show of remorse. Assuming, of course, that Tahlia's story were true.

"I have been ordered to search your tent for signs of the boy."

"And search them you must," said Merchant Dres, his voice quite calm.

Karek's men were filing through the tent door and lining up behind him. The chamber, which had two brightly painted open wagons in its centre where the dancing girls normally entertained the merchant's customers, seemed oddly smaller for its emptiness compared to when it was thronged. Four large betting tables stood at its far end, with chalk boards hanging over them displaying the current odds being offered, though now there were only two names written up on the boards.

"I must insist that my own people accompany yours during their search," said Merchant Dres. "I do not want to infer any kind of mistrust, but..."

He spoke politely, but Karek knew his manner to be the thinnest of veils.

"Of course," he said. "I would like to search your wares myself."

"Seior SanMartin will be happy to accommodate you."

Karek turned to his men.

"Ulli, take your men and search the living quarters. Grobb and Svastapol; you have the wagon park. Leave nothing overlooked, but please respect the good merchant's property, and his staff."

His men split themselves into their groups and began their search, each accompanied by one of the merchant's guards.

"You seem to be a man short, Unit-leader," Svell SanMartin observed. "Should there not be twenty in your Unit?"

Karek met the man's eyes, which regarded him with deceptive innocence.

"He is sitting outside behind your master's tent. In case someone should attempt to slip out unseen."

"I see," said Svell SanMartin, his face displaying nothing.

"A wise precaution," said Merchant Dres, somewhat more amiably. "Before you begin your own search, Unit-leader Karek, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Is there any news of Sir Kralaford's daughter? I have heard that she too is missing."

Karek ensured that his face remained blank.

"I have no news of her. Why do you ask?"

"Customers will still be laying down their bets today, and I must set the odds on Commander Kralaford. All factors must be taken into consideration."

"A merchant to the end," said Karek. "But I can't help you. I haven't heard anything about her whereabouts."

"Of course," said Merchant Dres, his smile turning brittle. "Do not let me detain you, Unit-leader Karek."

With a brusque nod of his head, Svell SanMartin showed him through an inner doorway of the tent. Two tall women with the sun darkened skins of the south-land's stood guard outside it, colourful ribbons woven through the mesh of their armour, and around the heads of their wide bladed spears. The room beyond was dark despite the early morning sun, because the canvas of its walls was lined with armoured mesh, which was itself chained to heavy metal beams that lined the chamber's perimeter. In the centre of the room stood a heavy wagon made of thick wood and armoured plate.

Svell SanMartin pulled a heavy bunch of keys from inside his tunic, mounted the steps to the wagon, and unlocked its armoured door. He pulled it open and motioned for him to enter. Karek inspected the door in a feigned casual manner. It would be an easy thing for the Trade Proctor to slam the door shut behind him, an even easier thing for him and Merchant Dres' guards to kill his men while he was locked within. His own men were half trained recruits, and by Svell SanMartin's reputation he could dispatch all of them by himself, but why would Merchant Dres order such a thing if he had nothing to hide?

"Unit-leader, please," said Svell SanMartin, motioning him once more to enter.

And anyway, why would Svell SanMartin trouble himself by locking him in the back of a wagon when he could dispatch him far more swiftly with one of his blades?

"Thank you," Karek smiled, and stepped through the door. He held his breath, because he could always be wrong, but the only sound behind him was the click of a glow light valve being turned, and then the inside of the wagon was filled with its rippling light.

The wagon's walls were crowded from floor to ceiling with heavy cupboards, their metal doors secured by bolts and heavy padlocks. On the floor, in the narrow aisle between the cupboards, stood a bed with rough sheets, but no other obvious signs of habitation.

"Yours?" asked Karek.

"Mine," confirmed Svell SanMartin.

Karek knelt down to look under the bed, but found nothing beneath.

"I would like to look in the cupboards," he said, straightening up.

"You will keep your hands to yourself," said the Trade Proctor as he took the ring of keys and beginning to unlock the padlocks.

"Of course," said Karek.

Svell SanMartin opened each cupboard in turn, and Karek peered inside to see trays of jewellery; brooches, necklaces, pendants, rings for fingers, ears and noses, belt buckles, hair pins and hair nets, all finely wrought and decorated with precious stones and metals. There were huge stones of jemaeld, and tiny slivers of thaimest, intricately carved firestones and rough chips of desert glass, the jewellery set with inlays of palladium and beryllium and bright enamel.

"Fine wares indeed," he said as he looked over them.

"Merchant Dres only sells the best."

"Of course," said Karek, smiling.

He inspected all the cupboards carefully, even tapping on their insides as though looking for secret compartments, but he knew that his search of the wagon was futile. Any one of the cupboards, if emptied of its trays of valuables, was large enough to hold a new born baby, but babes could not be hidden that way. Babies screamed. Babies cried. There was no easy way to hide a new born baby, not one full of life with two healthy air-filled lungs at its disposal.

As if in response to that thought, there came the distant sound of a crying child.

Karek straightened from his inspection of the last cupboard and raised his eyebrow at Svell SanMartin.

Svell SanMartin remained impassive.

"Sir!" came an urgent voice from outside the wagon.

"Thank you, Seior SanMartin. I am finished here."

He found Ulli waiting outside the wagon for him, accompanied by one of the tall south-land guards.

"Yes, Squad-man Ulli?"

"You had better come and see this, sir."

Karek followed Ulli back through the main tent and across to the door to the living quarters, from where the sound of crying was coming. There were more canvas partitions in the space beyond the door, dividing it into smaller living spaces, many of which were occupied by Merchant Dres' staff. They watched him as he passed, though they looked more indignant than frightened.

The last of the spaces was occupied by four young women, and Karek recognised them as Dres' dancing girls. Their quarters seemed somewhat more luxurious than those he had passed before. The walls were covered with brightly coloured material, and at the back of the room was a rack where their clothing hung. The clothing was as bright as the material covering the walls, diaphanous and sheer and decorated with false jewels.

One of the girls, dark haired and wrapped in a plush sleeping gown that covered her from neck to ankle, sat on one of the beds, cradling a screaming child.

"We found it behind that there rack," said Ulli. "Hidden away in a crate."

"It weren't hidden anywhere!" snapped the girl. "That's where he sleeps. Least it were until you woke him up!"

"Is there a problem, Unit-leader?"

Karek turned to see Merchant Dres behind him, Svell SanMartin standing once more at this shoulder.

"Let me see." He turned back to the crying child, leaning over to study it more closely. "There is no problem, Merchant Dress," he said, straightening up. "Ulli, continue your search."

"But, Sir..!"

"Commander Kralaford's son is a new born babe, whereas this child is..." He leant over the baby again. "Three months?"

"Two," said the young woman. "And I'd thank you to leave us in peace, so I can feed him and stop his squalling!"

"Of course," said Karek, smiling.

'Funny how a woman whose profession is dancing half naked in front of a room of men can suddenly become so modest.'

"Carry on, Squad-man Ulli."

"Sir."

Karek turned back to Merchant Dres, looking for any telling signs of discomfort in his face, but his demeanour was as calm as ever.

"My apologies again for all this inconvenience, merchant."

"I assume your search has turned up nothing untoward."

"Nothing," said Karek. "Though, I will be honest with you, I did not expect it to."

"And why is that?"

"Because Commander Kralaford's son has been taken north. The Commander is in pursuit and will bring him back soon enough."

The slightest of smiles twitched Merchant Dres' lips.

"I shall pray that the good Commander's search is executed as thoroughly as your own has been."

Karek smiled.

"Of course. I will go and see how my other men are getting on."

He nodded amiably to the merchant, and left.