Ten coins—one gold, four silver, and five clinkers—jangled in Chuktik’s pocket with every bump and jostle of the little cart.  He had indeed sold the saddle for a fair price, but he still felt guilty with the money in his pocket.  The saddle hadn’t belonged to him.  Someday I’ll return this to the stable owner in Shallow Sea, he promised himself, though he doubted he’d ever see it again in his lifetime.  Of course, the horse hadn’t been his either, but at least the owner had offered it to him herself—the saddle had essentially been stolen.  I have never stolen anything before.  He wondered how some did it without guilt.

Jendalek, the old Keeper, had yet to question him, even as the sun rose and warmed their backs; she ha...

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