As we ride, I decide we're close enough to our section of the livestock pens for Morgause to go on by herself. I grin ruefully--not that she needs me to protect her anyway.

There are times when I wonder. We get along better than most, and a man would have to be blind not to find Morgause attractive. I used to think that maybe...

But that was before the tall Brigante, Torig, arrived.

I shake off the mood -- there's no sense pining over might-have-beens. There are traders down at the other end of the stockyards with horses and ponies to sell.

"Morgause," I say, "I'm going to take a turn down to the far end of the field. I'll find out whether there's anything we ought to be taking a look at."

I rein my horse downfield, then call back over my shoulder. "Not to mention anyone we're going to have to outdeal."