They spent two days in the central market square, negotiating with merchants and locals, then stocking up with supplies (like glass) that weren't made in Ashwell. The apprentices had been allowed to bring examples of their own work to sell or trade. Edeard was surprised when Obron brought out a beautifully carved box made from martoz wood, polished to a ebony lustre. Who would have thought an arse like him could create something so charming? Yet a merchant gave him four pounds for it.

For himself, Edeard had brought along six ge-spiders. Always the trickiest of the standard genera to sculpt, they were highly valued for the drosilk they spun. And these had only just hatched, they'd live for another eight or nine months; during that time they would spin enough silk to make several garments, or armour jackets. Three ladies from the Weaver's Guild bid against each other for them. For the first time in his life Edeard's farsight couldn't quite discern how eager they were when they haggled with him; they covered their emotions with steely calm, the surface of their minds as smooth as a genistar egg. He just hoped he was doing the same when he agreed to sell for five pounds each. Surely they could sense his elation? It was more money than he'd seen in his life, let alone held in his hands. Somehow he didn't manage to hang on to it for very long. The market was huge, with so many fabulous items, as well as clothes of a quality rarely found in Ashwell. He felt almost disloyal buying there, but he did so need a decent full-length oilskin coat for the coming winter, and found one with a quilted lining. Further on there was a stall selling knee-high boots with sturdy silkresin soles that would surely last for years — a good investment, then. They also sold wide-brimmed leather hats. To keep the sun off in summer, and the rain in winter, the leatherworker apprentice explained. She was a lovely girl and seemed genuinely eager for him to have the right hat. He dragged out the haggling as long as he dared.

His fellow apprentices laughed when he returned dressed in his new finery. But they had spent their own money, too. And few had been as practical as him.

That evening Melzar allowed them to visit the town's taverns unchaperoned, threatening horrifying punishments if anyone caused trouble. Edeard joined up with Aide, Genril, Janene and Fahin. He spent the evening hoping to catch sight of the leather-worker apprentice, but by the time they reached the third tavern the town's unfamiliar ales had rendered them incapable of just about anything other than drinking more ale. And singing. The rest of the evening was forever beyond recollection.

When he woke up, slumped under one of the Ashwell carts, Edeard knew he was dying. He'd obviously been poisoned then robbed. Too much of his remaining money was missing, he could barely stand, he couldn't eat, he stank worse than the stables. It was also the first night he couldn't remember being troubled by his strange dreams. Then he found out it was a mass poisoning. All the apprentices were in the same state. And all of the adults found it hilarious.

Another lesson learned, Melzar boomed. 'Well done. You lot should graduate in record time at this rate.

'What a swine, Fahin grunted as Melzar walked away. He was a tall boy, so thin he looked skeletal. As a doctor's apprentice he'd managed to get one of the few pairs of glasses in Ashwell to help his poor vision. They weren't quite right for him, magnifying his eyes to a quite disturbing degree for anyone standing in front of him. At sometime during the night he'd lost his jacket, now he was shivering, and not entirely from the cold morning air. Edeard had never seen him looking so pale before.

Fahin was searching through the leather physick satchel that he always carried. It was full of packets of dried herbs, small phials, and some rolled linen bandages. The satchel made him the butt of many jokes in the taverns all last night, yet he refused to abandon it.

'Do you think they'll let us ride in the carts? Janene asked mournfully as she looked at the adults, who were huddled together chortling. 'I don't think I can take riding on a ge-horse this morning.

'Not a chance, Edeard said.

'How much money have you got left? Fahin asked. 'All of you.

The apprentices began a reluctant search through their pockets. Fahin managed to gather up two pounds in change, and hurried off to the herbalist stall. When he came back he started brewing up tea, emptying in several packets of dried leaves and adding the contents of a phial from the satchel.

'What is that? Alcie asked as he sniffed the kettle and stepped back, his eyes watering. Edeard could smell it too, something like sweet tar.

'Growane, flon seed, duldul bird eyes, nanamint. Fahin squeezed some limes into the boiling water, and started stirring.

'That's disgusting! Obron exclaimed.

'It'll cure us, I promise on the Lady.

'Please tell us you rub it on, Edeard said.

Fahin wiped the condensation from his glasses, and poured himself a cup. 'Gulp it down in one, that's best. He swallowed. His cheeks bulged as he grimaced. Edeard thought he was going to spew it up again.

The other apprentices gave the kettle a dubious look. Fahin poured the cup full again. Edeard could sense the doubt in their minds; he felt for Fahin who was trying to do his best to help and be accepted. He put his hand out and took the cup. 'One gulp?

'Yes, Fahin nodded.

'You're not going to… Janene squealed.

Edeard tossed it back. A second later the taste registered, kind of what he imagined eating manure would be like. 'Oh Lady! That is… Urrgh. His stomach muscles squeezed up, and he bent over, thinking he was going to be sick. A weird numbness was washing through him. He sat down as if to catch his breath after a winding blow.

'What's it like? Genril asked.

Edeard was about to slag Fahin off something rotten. 'Actually, I can't feel anything. Still got a headache, though.

'That takes longer, Fahin wheezed. 'Give it fifteen minutes. The flon seed needs to get into your blood and circulate. And you need to drink about a pint of water to help.

'So what was the lime for?

'It helps mask the taste.

Edeard started laughing.

'It actually works? an incredulous Alcie asked.

Edeard gave him a shrug. Fahin poured another cup.

It turned into a ritual. Each of the apprentices gulped down the vile brew. They pulled faces and jeered and cheered each other. Edeard quietly went and fetched himself a bottle of water from the market's pump. Fahin was right, it did help clear his head. After about quarter of an hour he was feeling okay again. Not a hundred per cent, but the brew had definitely alleviated the worst symptoms. He could even consider some kind of breakfast.

'Thanks, he told Fahin. The tall lad smiled in appreciation.

Afterwards, when they packed the carts and got the ge-horses ready, the apprentices were all a lot easier around each other, the joshing and pranks weren't so hard-edged as before. Edeard imagined that this was what it would be like from now on. They'd shared together, made connections. He often envied the casual friendships between the older people in the village, the way they got on with each other. It was outings like this that saw such seeds rooting. In a hundred years' time, maybe it would be he and Genril laughing at hung-over apprentices. Of course, that would be a much bigger caravan, and Ashwell would be the same size as Witham by then.

Melzar led the caravan on a slightly different route back, curving westward to take in the foothills of the Sardok mountain range. It was an area of low valleys with wide floors, mostly wooded, and home to a huge variety of native creatures. There were few paths other than those carved out by the herds of chamalans who grazed on the pastures between the forests. Farsight and the ge-wolves also sniffed out drakken pit traps which would have swallowed up a ge-horse and rider. The drakken were burrowing animals the size of cats, with five legs in the usual Querencia arrangement of two on each side and a thick highly flexible limb at the rear which helped them make their loping run. The front two limbs had evolved into ferociously sharp claws which could dig through soil at a phenomenal rate. They were hive animals, digging their vast warrens underground, with populations over a hundred strong. Singularly they were harmless, but they attacked in swarms which even a well-armed human had trouble fighting off. Their ability to excavate big caverns just below the surface provided them with the means to trap their prey; even the largest of native creatures were susceptible to the pit traps.