Beside Soldier’s Boy, Likari put his hands over the top of his head. He crouched down, squinting his eyes. “Too much sun, too much sun!” he wailed.

In the same moment, Soldier’s Boy became aware of an itching, burning sensation on his shoulders and the top of his head. Stooping, he seized Likari’s hand. Before the boy could even stand, he was dragged back what seemed like two steps. When next my eyes focused, we were standing in the shelter of an evergreen forest. Peering through the trees, I could see the Trading Place. A long gentle slope of open land led down to it. All around us were the remains of temporary shelters and old campfires. I knew without even thinking about it that this was the area where the Specks customarily camped when they came to trade. It was deserted. The ashes in the fire pits had been rained on. “There you are!” Olikea’s voice came from behind him. Soldier’s Boy turned around. Behind him was a temporary shelter of woven screens. Olikea emerged from the doorway, looking annoyed with him. Despite her grim expression, I felt his mouth go slack at the sight of her. Never had I seen her arrayed as she was now.

She had dressed herself against the chill wind. I had seen her naked a thousand times; why did covering her body suddenly make her so alluring? Why did it suddenly awaken my own awareness that I was all but naked? She wore what would have been a simple dress on a Gernian woman. It was blue and came down to her ankles. She had paired it with a red apron with white ruffles and embroidered cherries on it. The long sleeves of her dress were full, and the lace cuffs drooped around her hands. On her head, she wore a yellow bonnet elaborately decorated with lace, ribbons, and feathers. Her long hair spilled from under it and poured down her back and around her shoulders. A red silk scarf was loosely wrapped around her throat. As I stared at her, she took little black fingerless mitts from an embroidered green silk bag and drew them onto her hands. “I have been waiting here for you since last night.”

On a Gernian woman, the mixed bits of wardrobe would have been laughable. On this wild Speck woman, they seemed an elaborate costume worthy of a barbarian queen. Necklace upon necklace of glass and ceramic beads circled her neck. Her left arm was heavy with bracelets of beads and bangles of silver and copper from her wrist to her elbow. Her face was painted with cosmetics in an elaborate parody of a Gernian woman.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Soldier’s Boy managed to ask.

“I came to trade. If I do not show what I have to trade, other women will not want it.” She gestured at herself. “These things from the Gernians, we are the only folk who have them to trade. If I wear them as if I intend to keep them for myself, others will offer a better price to persuade me to part with them. Besides, I like how they cover me from the sun.” She lifted a pink frilled parasol and carefully popped it open. Likari yelped with surprise and delight.

“You are beautiful,” Soldier’s Boy said, and I was surprised at how heartfelt his words were.

“Yes,” she agreed. “And I am glad to see that you have managed to refill your skin a bit. You are not as magnificent as you were, but at least you will not shame me.”

“Have you been down to the Trading Place already?” he asked her, ignoring her chide.

“Luckily for you, I have.” She gestured at her shelter. “Likari, there are garments for both of you in there. Bring them out.”

The boy gave a squeak of anticipation and scuttled into the shelter. In a moment, he emerged. An immense fold of striped cloth filled his arms. He brought it to me and then shook out a long tunic of rabbit skin. He tugged it on over his head and gave a sigh of relief. I chided myself for not realizing how chilled he had been. “Do I have shoes?” he asked anxiously.

“You will not really need them until the snow falls.” She dismissed his concern. “Well?” She turned her attention to me. “Get dressed so we can go to trade. Only beggars come to the trading fair ungarbed as if it were summer. A Great One should be wearing furs and necklaces. But at least you shall not look as if you are completely unrespected.”

Soldier’s Boy shook out the garment. It was made of wool or something very like it, with alternating stripes of blue, brown, and red. There was little shape to it; when he held it up, it looked like a large rectangle of fabric, with a hole for my head and two more for my arms. “Put it on, put it on!” Olikea urged me, and then impatiently helped pull it over my head. It was large and came all the way to my feet. It left my arms bare. I had not realized how chill the day was until my flesh was shielded from it. “The stripes make you look very fat,” Olikea said with great approval. “And see, it is loose. Plenty of room for you to grow big again. When it is tight on your belly, you will look magnificent. But for now it makes you look like a man of substance.”

Likari had vanished into her shelter again. He emerged with two wide-brimmed hats woven from bark strips and a fat pot of something greasy and dark red. It wasn’t food. As Soldier’s Boy watched, the lad dipped two fingers into the pot, scooping up some of the stuff and then busily smeared it down one of his arms. It went on thick and brownish-red, like a good coat of paint. “This will keep the sun from scorching me,” he said with relief.

“Do not forget to coat the tops of your feet,” Olikea warned us.

Soldier’s Boy was expecting to put on his own paint, but Olikea motioned impatiently for him to sit down. She stripped off her gloves, pushed back her lacy cuffs, and then applied the paint to me with a practiced hand. She did not merely smear it on as Likari had. She worked carefully and skillfully, swiftly marking swirls and stars into the thickly applied pigment. When she was finished, the decorative markings went from my shoulders to my wrist. “There,” she said, obviously pleased with her work. “Now you are fit to be seen. I have spoken of you, as you bade me. I said I would bring you soon to trade, so folk will be watching for you to come. A pity that you have nothing of worth to trade. You shall be little better than a beggar at the Place.”

“But he is rich!” Likari exclaimed. “He has brought the wealth of three kin-clans rolled up in the blanket. Beads and jewels and ornaments such as I have never seen!”

“What! Let me see!” Astonishment and avarice warred in her eyes.

He had not planned to unveil his wealth until he was at the Trading Place. Soldier’s Boy had thought that a sudden show of it would stun my beholders. As he slowly unrolled the blanket to display row after row of dazzling treasure, Olikea nearly fainted with ecstasy. “Where did you get it?” she demanded to know.

“From my mentor. Lisana taught me in the other place. She made me her heir. This is her wealth, rightfully come to me.”

“Lisana’s hoard!” Olikea exclaimed. “I’d heard tales of it. Some said that she never had it, others that she found a way to take it into death with her. Most believe it was stolen from her lodge by an honorless one, and that the thief took it to her death with her when she drowned trying to cross a river to escape the bad luck such treasure brings.”

“I told you it was bad luck!” Likari shrilled excitedly.

“Not if it is truly his. Oh, this, this piece is beyond value. You must not trade this; you will never get the likes of it again. And this, no, this is not for trade. I will wear this, and all will envy that I am your feeder. And these, oh, such ivory! These you must wear yourself.”

Soldier’s Boy felt a sudden pang of something. Jealousy from Lisana’s shade? Anger that Olikea would flaunt what Lisana could no longer wear? He held my face slack against it, pondering, and did not resist as Olikea lifted his hand, and slid heavy bangles of gold, ivory, silver, and inscribed horn over my wrist. The weight felt peculiar to me: no Gernian man would have adorned himself this way.