[b]Ailee, Lucien![/b] The strike of the bartender’s open palm on the countertop is very controlled. “There aren’t many [i]laws[/i] here,” he says, and someone like Jackdaw would perk up at the way he enunciated that word, chose it over rules, would ferret at the implications until they unfolded into a possibility. “But we kill rats.” The terrier sulkily whines and drops back down onto the floor, circling the both of you, clearly still wanting to bite and tear and hunt, but it can’t. It’s a good dog(?). A good dog(?) controls itself. “And you,” he says, pointing an accusatory webbed finger at you, Ailee, “are a [i]rat.[/i] A tall one, a magic one, but a [i]rat[/i] none the same.” “Here to sneak your friends into the food?” “Here to poison our water?” “She’s a new sort. They finally figured out how to be like us.” “She’s the Arch Mage, you foam.” “Those eyes...” “So go back and tell your masters,” the bartender says, nestling a crutch under one arm and pulling himself up, “that there’s nothing here for [i]them.[/i]” *** [b]Coleman, Jackdaw![/b] You get what you need at a significant discount, Coleman! These folks want you to be on your way as quickly as possible. It shouldn’t be any trouble at all to assemble a rudimentary barge out of what’s available, and then waterproof Sasha on top of that. Pay a price, Coleman, seeing as you’re doing this the proper and civilized way, and offering up proper trade. Listen to Sasha’s contented rumble as you take the soft way through. Jackdaw, as soon as you pocket it, from a wagon just a way over you hear, faint but distinct, the command to [i]control yourself[/i]. How does she [i]know??[/i] Does she have eyes on the back of her head? Decision time, Jacks. Add something to your collection that might be [i]just[/i] the word you’ll one day need, or buckle under Ailee’s overbearing demands?