Geivin gave me some coaching, then I watched the other traders for a bit, how they used their friends to start a crowd, how they talked, how they played games with the prices, till I reckoned I’d got the hang of it. They were just ordinary Singer’s tricks they were using; it was easy. For a Singer. Which I’m not.

We had a trial run under Geivin’s watchful eye. Then I set myself up on a patch of trodden grass, with Geivin tucked in behind me to help. The other two were my starter audience.

“Secrets of the Savages!” I called – well, sort of shook. Then I told myself not to be silly; imagine you’re on a dancing floor, girl, giving a message. “Salves that cure as you’d never dreamed!” My voice steadied. “All the secrets of the savages, handed down from the Elders, from the very Elves themselves! Abscesses, infected wounds, cracks, chilblains all cured with the secrets of the savages!”

“Secrets of the savages, woman?” sneered a farmer. “Then how did you get them?”

“Disguised myself as one of them, and lived among them for a whole year, stealing all their most secret recipes,” I replied. Then I dropped the pitch of my voice. “When one tribe got suspicious, I’d sneak off to the next.” I edged my tone. “A whole year of mortal danger, and you can buy it for just a handful of rings!”

I was attracting quite a crowd, now. Then I realised: it was just like a shaman declaring her message! I can do this!

“So you just walk into one of these tribes, just like that? Just a stray woman?” someone else asked.

Horror filled my voice. “No, no! It took me a month to prepare, to dress myself up as one of their shamans, their medicine women.” I became more matter-of-fact. “They’re always trusted, and never harmed or even touched. That’s how I learned so much!” It was working! I can do this! Now, concentrate. “See, a salve that will clear up an infected wound in a week, heal it in a fortnight, even if it’s a month old!” Let the volume lift, but don’t lift pitch, girl – you mustn’t squeak! “A miracle? No, a secret of the savages, a secret of the Elves that only these ancient savages have preserved.” Pause, and lighten tone. “We’ve lost so much!” Pause, and slow and heavy again. “See, a salve that will cure mouth ulcers in three days – you can feel it stopping the pain the moment you put it on!” Shorter pause, and faster. “See, a salve for chilblains – cured in a week!” Now give it them! “Secrets of the Elves, hidden in the depths of the trackless woods, preserved by the savages!”

“They go naked, don’t they? Did you go naked, lady? Can you show us?”

OK, that threw me. Geivin whispered behind me, and I repeated it. “Sure – after you!” It wasn’t brilliant, but it raised a laugh, and it was better than anything I could think of. Now back to the script, voice natural. “No, I told you, I dressed as a medicine woman.” Drop volume but project – tell the secret. “They have special robes and trappings, with complicated ties and straps, and every detail had to be exactly right or I would have been tortured to death!” Now lift it! “See how much I’ve had to go through to get these salves back just for you! Now who’s going to buy?”

“How much for the chilblain salve?”

“Thirty – no, for you, sir, twenty-four rings. Two chains. But it’s my last few jars of chilblain salve, and you look honest; just a chain to get rid of it. A deal? There you are, sir. My man’s got my gauge so I’ll have to trust you, but I said, you look like an honest man. And for you, lady? Thank you. The abscess salve? That’s got some very rare and strange ingredients in. Seventy – no, let’s call it sixty. Five chains, sir, since you’ve no way of knowing if you can trust me or not, I’ll let you take it for so little. Four chains? Oh, no, sorry. I’m almost giving it away as it is. I might just shave three rings off, but no more. Oh, all right. Four and a half – no. I’ll prove I can be generous, fifty rings. Done. Here you are, sir.”

It was easy; just like being a shaman. I sold seven pots of salve, and made over sixteen chains – nearly two hundred rings.

“The test is next market day,” said Hawk. “Whether your customers come back for more, or try to kill you.”

I sniffed. “I need more little pots.”

“The potters are mostly over there,” Geivin pointed across the Marketplace – strange how everything involved crossing the full length of the Marketplace.

“Of course they are,” said Hawk, “Everybody knows that.”

Geivin ignored him. “But can’t we stop for some wet nellies? Pleeease?”

So we did – and he was right; they were well worth a ring or two.

We found a potter who was making little glazed pots by the basketful. We spent two chains – twenty-four rings, or two pots of chilblain salve – on a hundred of them.

“We make these ourselves back in the Longwoods,” said Hawk. “These’d be worth a couple of deerskins.”

“What are deerskins worth here?” asked Stack.

“I’ll show you,” said Geivin. But we were interrupted by a voice like a flint scratching rock.

“Pleease good sirs good lydy a link or two of your kaindness good sirs good lydy it’s not for me it’s for my byby here good lydy see he’s etten not for a daiy we be triuly hungry lydy it’s only a link or so jiust for a maouthful of food –”

Stack had turned to listen to her but Geivin pulled us away.

“Talk not to beggars!” he muttered. “Listen them not! Give them no attention! Walk away!”

“But if she just wants a bit of food for her baby,” I began

“Listen not!” An earnest hand was dragging me by the sleeve. “How d’you know she just wants it for her baby? She’s just a beggar. Listen not never ever to beggars!” and suddenly I was hearing old Peidr’s voice coming out of Geivin’s mouth.

The woman had found some new victims, but Stack was still staring at her. “You mean people give her rings just for asking?”

“Come away!” Geivin tugged at his sleeve as well. “Come away from such folk!”

Stack looked at me and we both shrugged. But we did as we were told, for the moment, and Geivin took us to see about deerskins.