And I
had given him the name I had chosen, Rascar.
He asked, "Are you thinking of returning to Shainsa?"
Wary of a trap, I hesitated, but the question seemed harmless, so I only
countered, "Have you been long in the Kharsa?"
"Several weeks."
"Trading?"
"No." He applied himself to the wine again. "I was searching for a
member of my family."
"Did you find him?"
"Her," said Kyral, and ceremoniously spat. "No, I didn't find her. What
is your business in Shainsa?"
I chuckled briefly. "As a matter of fact, I am searching for a member of
my family."
He narrowed his eyelids as if he suspected me of mocking him, but
personal privacy is the most rigid convention of the Dry-towns and such
mockery showed a sensible disregard for prying questions if I did not
choose to answer them. He questioned no further.
"I can use an extra man to handle the loads. Are you good with pack
animals? If so, you are welcome to travel under the protection of my
caravan."
I agreed. Then, reflecting that Juli and Rakhal must, after all, be
known in Shainsa, I asked, "Do you know a trader who calls himself
Sensar?"
He started slightly; I saw his eyes move along my scars.
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