The next morning, Marchan met Trevor not far from Marchan's room.

'Good morning,' Trevor said. 'I was wondering how you made out with that marble?'

'Quite well, thank you,' said Marchan. 'I finished carving by firelight last night, and started polishing as soon as the sun was hinting it was going to rise.'

'May I see?' Trevor asked.

'Sure,' said Marchan and pulled out a cloth bag from his pocket. He tipped the bag a bit and extracted a king and a knight, then handed them over to Trevor. 'Try not to get them greasy with your fingertips. Hold them with the edge of your tunic,' he said

Trevor did as he was told and looked closely at the two pieces.

'They were a rush job,' said Marchan apologetically. 'I couldn't afford much time. If I had a week, I could produce much better, but I think these will buy me a pair of shoes.'

'Oh, much better than that,' said Trevor, 'if they're all like these two. I've played chess for some time, and with many sets of pieces and I've never seen anything this wonderful.'

'Well, thank you,' said Marchan, 'but I don't think they're that good.'

'Oh they are,' said Trevor. 'Look, I'll buy them from you. I'll offer you 120 gold crowns.'

'They can't be worth that much,' said Marchan. 'You're just trying to be nice.'

'No, I think I would feel guilty paying any less than that,' said Trevor.

Just then Richard came around a corner. 'Cap'n,' Trevor said, 'how much do you think a set of chess pieces that included these two would cost?'

Richard accepted the Knight from Trevor and slowly turned it around, then gave a low whistle. 'This piece alone must be worth 10 gold crowns. A whole set like this one would likely work out to be 200 or 300. If the white king looked like His Majesty, He would likely be willing to pay 600, and offer the craftsman a commission as his personal craftsman. You made these, Marchan? I'll offer 200 crowns for the whole set when you're done.'

'Oh I am done,' said Marchan. 'I don't believe either of you that these could be worth so much. I rushed through it.'

'You have the completed set, already?' Richard was incredulous. 'Very well, if you don't believe me, we'll go visit an appraiser I know. He will tell you how much he thinks they're worth.'

'I'll triple my previous offer,' said Trevor. '360 crowns. I think I'ld like to present these to my Father when he arrives. He should have been in the city before now. I'ld like to suprise him with these.'

'Let's go to appraisers,' said Richard. 'Let's make sure everyone knows what they're worth before Marchan lets them go for less than they're worth, or you pay him too much.'

'Yes, let's,' said Marchan, wondering how a simple piece of work like this could possibly be worth so much to anyone.

They set out shortly thereafter. They passed through the gate that Marchan had entered the week before and passed between the orchards and vineyards. Marchan could appreciate the smell of the fruit, almost ready to pick. They entered the square where Marchan had met Peter. Marchan looked around. He could not see Peter anywhere. He walked to the Baker's booth. Both Trevor and Richard stopped short, slightly confused.

'Hello, Mardic is it?'

'How do you know me?' said the man behind the counter.

'A lad named Peter told me your name,' said Marchan. 'You wouldn't know where he is?' he continued as he took out his last two coins, not that it mattered if Richard and Trevor were on the level.

'No, haven't seen him for a couple of hours.'

'Well, if you see him, could you tell him a short friend of his was looking for him. I'll be back in a little while. In the meantime, I'ld like an apple pie.'

'Certainly,' Mardic said and brought forward a pie. The exchange was made and Marchan continued with his two friends. The pie was very tasty and they soon had it in their stomachs. They reached another square which seemed both a little more upscale and a little seedier at the same time. It was very strange. Richard led them left and up a short street and into a jewelry shop.

The Jeweller inside was bent over a ring with a loupe in his left eye. His right eye socket was empty. In his right hand he held a small set of tweezers that were holding a small diamond. His left hand steadied himself. Marchan had never seen a diamond before. He felt a desire to hold it, to hoard it rise up inside of him. He suppressed the emotion and then realised that a few jewels would have made his chess set even more.

'Be right with you,' said the Jeweller. 'Just give me a minute to finish this.'

The three of them waited. Richard noticed an empty table and motioned Marchan to it, then motioned for the chess pieces. They slowly and carefully set up the pieces as though for a game, even though there was no checker board under them. Just as they were finishing, the Jeweller finished his task and spoke.

'What have you there?' he said. He took the loupe out of his eye and came over to the table. He took a close up view with his good eye of the closest Rook. Then he put the loupe back in his eye and looked again. He carefully picked up the piece holding it in such a way as not to get his fingerprints on it and turned it around. He returned it to its place and picked up the Knight beside it. He turned that around and returned it to its place. He did the same for every piece and every pawn on the table. When he finished, he sighed.

'Such craftsmanship!' he said. 'Such raw talent. You want to sell them? Maybe you need to unload them, hmmm? 400 crowns.'

'Actually,' said Richard, 'we were hoping you would appraise them.'

'I just did,' said the Jeweller.

'They're worth more than 400 crowns, then?' asked Marchan still a little suprised.

'Oh certainly, if you were trying to unload them I would have to have a profit. If they are yours, I would say you might find a buyer for 600. If you were willing to wait, you might even get 800.'

'That would be a nice profit for you,' said Richard.

'Capitain, you're not suggesting I was trying to take advantage, or that I deal with stolen goods,' said the Jeweller. 'There's storage costs. Such a set takes up some space. Space I could use to store diamonds and such like.'

'So it seems both your offers were low,' Richard said turning to Trevor.

'So it does,' said Trevor a little shaken. 'I only have 400 crowns left. My Father should be in the city soon. I'll offer 400 crowns now and 300 crowns when my Father arrives. He'll be proud to own such a set.'

Richard turned back to the jeweller, 'Do you think anyone would offer more than that today. My young friend here needs some cash rather desperately and this is all he has to sell.'

'I would not attempt to offer that much. No profit for me. I thank you for letting me see them, though. They were well worth my time. If you come by others and do not have such a willing buyer handy, I would be happy to take them off your hands for a lower price than that.' He paused for a second, then continued, 'You could ask my friend, Gorlioss. He is on the other side of Kardin Square. But he is quite a cheap man. You would have to convince him that the King himself once owned this set.'

'Quite impossible, since this set was only made recently,' said Marchan.

They left the shop after Marchan had packed the set back into his little bag. Trevor looked a little relieved. He pulled out his purse and counted out 120 crowns.

'You walk around with 120 crowns in your purse?' asked Richard, a bit suprised.

'Not usually,' said Trevor. 'Last night when Marchan first mentioned about making the set, I thought that it would be nice to buy it for my Father, and I was willing to go up to 120 crowns for it before I saw it. Now that I know its worth, I will have to get the other 280 later. This is a deposit until we can finish our transaction, Marchan.'

Marchan looked at the money, he had never seen so much and so much more was already promised.

'Do you suppose I owe anything for the marble?' he asked, turning to Richard.

'No, I don't suppose so,' Richard answered. 'It was of no use where it was. And it was of no use as building material anymore, since it had cracked. No, I don't think you owe anything.'

Marchan felt a bit giddy.

Marchan turned to Richard, 'Captain, I believe it requires a proof of honesty to reach your rank, does it not?'

'It does,' said Richard. 'And severe punishment if we're ever dishonest.'

'Then can I ask you to hold some of this for me?' Marchan asked passing 60 crowns to him.

'I would be honoured, my friend,' said Richard. 'When would you like it back?'

'I'll have to let you know. If you want, you can return it when we reach the Hall. I won't need it today, and I don't want to appear too rich.'

'Of course,' said Trevor. 'It's hard to steal what you don't have.'

'Yes,' said Marchan. 'Now, I think I'll be able to afford a new tunic. This one was a bit better quality when my mother gave it to me. She sacrificed so much to keep me well dressed. I really should be shocked to find myself with these tears. That's what I got from sleeping under hedges for a week.'

Richard led them back to Kardin Square and they approached Johone the Tailor.

'Good day, Captian,' the Tailor said to Richard. 'How may I help you?'

'A good day to you,' replied Richard. 'My friend here needs a new tunic.'

The Tailor looked a Marchan. 'Ah, do my eyes deceive me?' he exclaimed. 'A Dwarf? I have not seen a Dwarf for many a long year. Not since the war. I would be honoured to clothe one of such an honourable race. Come, come! Noro! Noro! Bring my tape! Oh, I have it, bring my pins! Oh, I will be the envy of the Tailors. No one will dare look down on me any more. Begging your pardon! Just an expression! They'll respect me is what I meant. So have the Dwarves returned? Oh, please hold still, don't move a muscle. Okay, arms out, feet apart! Now, at attention please. Take a couple of strides. Oh dear, you need new shoes. My friend is a Shoemaker, his shop is just across the Square. Noro! Bring an ell of wool. You'll want wool in the cold weather that's coming up, believe me. I can already feel the winter chill in my bones. Brrr. Noro!'

The Tailor kept on, often calling for Noro who came in and out like the wind and was usually right at his Master's elbow when bellowed for. Marchan gave up trying to respond to the questions. They came at him too quickly to answer and he could not utter even a word. Richard and Trevor stood back and just listened, marvelling at the man's ability to keep his mouth moving even when it was full of pins. After about five minutes, the Tailor suddenly stopped.

'Okay, now shoo! Go over to the Shoemaker's across the Square and ask him to make you some new shoes. Tell him I sent you and that I'm telling him to give you them cheap. Come back this afternoon and I'll be ready to fit you,' he said as he pushed them out the door. He immediately closed the door behind them and they could hear him still talking to Noro inside, 'Wonderful people those Dwarves, did you hear how polite he was. Told me everything I needed to know to make him a tunic and followed my directions perfectly. Wonderful folk!'

They walked away. Soon they had found the Shoemaker's shop. They went in.

'I do not make shoes for Ptuibatas,' said a surly man there to a young woman. 'I make shoes for gentle folk like this Captian.' The man suddenly became much less surly and came up to the Captain. How can I serve you, M'Lord Captain?'

Richard paused for a second and was about to speak, but Marchan piped up first, 'I believe the young lady was before us.'

'She's no Lady, believe me,' said the Shoemaker. 'She's been working the alleyway up the road there.'

'No matter,' said Marchan. 'She was here first, we'll wait until you've served her.'

'I don't take orders from children,' said the Shoemaker, becoming a bit surly again toward Marchan, then remembered himself. 'Now, Captain,' he said silkily, 'can I interest you in a nice pair of walking shoes?'

'You know,' said Richard, 'you really should listen to the shorter people. Sometimes they're smarter than they look.' He turned around and walked out. Marchan and Trevor were there as soon as he was. 'I think I've just been slimed,' he said.

The young lady followed them out. Richard looked over at her. 'Are you okay, young lady?' he asked.

She shrank back from him. 'Sure, have your fun. I'm not a Ptuibata, even if I'm not a Lady.'

'Listen, Miss, it doesn't bother me what you are. That Shoemaker was very rude to you and I don't like buying shoes from rude people, even when I was promised a cheap price. Maybe you could help us find a Shoemaker that's a little less rude? You look like you're wanting to buy new shoes yourself.'

'What's wrong with my shoes?' she asked defensively.

'Nothing that I can see,' said Richard. 'I just thought that's why you were in this shop.'

'Well, these cut into my ankles. I'd like a pair that don't hurt so much.'

'Well then, shall we search together? My name is Richard. This is Trevor, and this is Marchan.'

'Marchan!' she said and looked at Marchan a bit closer. 'Why Peter was telling me he met you.'

'Do you know where he is?' Marchan asked excitedly.

'He's on an errand for Mama Rita. He'll be back late this afternoon.'

'I'd like to see him again,' said Marchan. 'I didn't get a chance to thank him properly for his help when I first arrived in the city.'

'My name is Franna,' the young woman said. 'Mama Rita knows everyone around here, maybe she'll help us find a Shoemaker.'

This sounded fine to Marchan, but Richard seemed a bit reluctant.

Richard said, 'Now wait, who's this Mama Rita?'

'She knows everyone around here. She'll help,' said Franna.

'But why did that Shoemaker seem so sure you're a Ptuibata?'

'Because he's a gargan. He tried to approach me once as though I was a Ptuibata. Stupid gargan. I told him to take a hike.'

'So, then he should have known better.'

'Splikie that!' she said. 'Now come on!'

She led them out of the Square and into a side street. A short trip up that street and she turned into a house.

'Mama Rita! Mama Rita!' she called as she entered.

The three of them stood outside, not sure what to do with themselves. A number of people walked by, looked at them and then tried to keep their eyes averted. From time to time, women who passed muttered curses or prayers quietly so that no one could hear what they said. After several minutes Franna came back out and beckoned them inside.

'Mama Rita wants to talk to you. Come in, come in!'

They passed the ragged, though thick curtain that covered the doorway and stepped into a very dingy room. The smell of urine assaulted them. Trevor looked down to be sure he wasn't stepping in the worst of the mess on the floor. Cats seemed to cover the rickety old furniture like cushions. Franna led them through the front room and into a small bedroom. It was like a jail cell, and the smell seemed to emanate from this location. An extremely old person, Marchan could not tell if it was a man or a woman, lay on the bed. An elderly, and quite matronly, woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading by the light of a small lantern which was not giving off much heat. She held up a finger to Franna and kept reading.

Marchan listened to the mesmerising tones of the old woman. He suddenly missed the way his Mother used to read to him. She would read to him wonderful stories, and sometimes out of a book so old that it claimed to start at the beginning of time. He suddenly came back out of his revery as he realised that it was from that book that the old woman was reading. He listened for a bit and realised she was actually reaching one of his favourite parts. 'The lion will lie down with the lamb and a child will lead them.' The woman's voice kept going. Marchan was pleased that he was able to hear this again. She stopped just past that point and looked up at her visitors.

'Mama Rita, this are some men who were kind to me at a Shoemaker's who was not,' said Franna.

'Welcome friends! Let's let my ancestor here sleep.' said the old woman, and she led them out into another room.

'So let's see, a Captain from the Fortress, with a young man that looks like he's not seen a days work. I don't often get visits from such distinguished Gentlemen! And who do we have here but a Dwarf? I've heard tell of a Dwarf in these parts since, since, why since I was but a girl. I do recall they were around in the war, but that's away south. What brings such an interesting crew to me?'

'They were kind to me, when a Shoemaker refused to sell me shoes, they insisted he serve me or not get their business. So he lost their business and mine,' said Franna quickly.

'My, my, and all perfectly polite even to the worst of us,' said the old woman with a bit of a smile. 'I'll have to ask you to excuse the smell. My ancestor, myself, we are a bit weak in the bladder. Don't worry, it's not catching. At least, I don't know anyone who's caught it from us. Franna, here, doesn't seem to be affected. Anyways, you didn't come to hear me speak all day. You'll be looking for a politer Shoemaker. Did you try Cartalla? He's good friends with Johone the Tailor.'

'Why, that's where we thought we were going!' said Richard.

'Oh, you ended up in the wrong part of the Square then,' said Franna. 'I should have thought of Cartalla myself.'

'I'm glad you brought this one to me,' said Mama Rita looking at Marchan who suddenly began to feel a little like a trapped animal. She stepped forward and grabbed his left hand with her right and bending down lifted his hand to her lips and kissed him. 'You are truly a perfect specimen of your kind,' she said to him so quietly he almost missed it. Then she said a bit louder, 'A hillside covered with sheep, and the cattle on the hill beside it. You are closer to what you seek than you think. Do not search in the far off wilderness for what is beside you.'

She let go and Marchan almost fell over. He stepped back and walked away from her and around behind Richard and Trevor. She looked a bit disappointed, but perked up again and said, 'Well, it was good to have met all of you.'

They left and Franna led them back to the Square.

Their next attempt at visiting the shop of Johone's friend went much better. Cartalla was a very pleasant and generous man. His belly moved up and down whenever he laughed, which was often. He did not talk as much as Johone, but busied himself in his work while simultaneously learning things about his customers that they were suprised to hear themselves say. While he deftly measured Marchan's feet and shaped moulds for them, he learned so much of Marchan's story that even Richard and Trevor, who had already known him a week were engrossed and when he learned that Franna lived with Mama Rita he insisted that she take a gift of some new moccasins to Mama Rita.

'That's a wonderful woman, that Mama Rita,' he said, speaking to no one in particular, yet talking to them all. 'She really can't get out much, so shoe shopping's hardly high on her agenda. I haven't been able to measure her feet for a long time, so I can't make her shoes, but these will slip on without fuss. Did you know, she takes in orphans, begger children, stray cats. I think once I heard she had a bird that with a broken wing. How she kept it from the cats, I have no idea. I have no idea how she feeds everyone. Johones and I help her keep everyone clothed, though we couldn't possibly be giving her enough.'

'Mama Rita says that the skys themselves open up for her,' said Franna who was now having her feet measured. She giggled as he ran his hand across the bottom of her foot to straighten his rule.

'Well, bless whoever's in the sky giving her what she needs then,' said Cartalla. 'I am glad she does what she does. In other squares around the city, there are children starving, begging for food. It's a horrible sight to see. A child not yet five years old with a distended stomach. Now the King does a wonderful job of keeping all the men and women working who are willing, but these poor orphans who nobody seems willing to take in. It's not like feeding 'em would be that hard with how much food this city produces. My grandfather told me that when he was a young man it was a shame to the entire city that one child had not gotten enough to eat. I can't understand how the world has changed so much. Mama Rita may be one of the last of the truly noble, begging your Graces. I mean no disrespect to your ancestory. I just believe the truly noble are those who help those who can't help themselves.'

'You're quite right, Cartalla,' said Trevor. 'I was unaware that there was any starving orphans in this city. My father has a friend in food distribution. I think he can arrange some food to be available to them.'

'Well, that's a start, as the frog said to the mosquito. I think we could all use a bit of cheer. All right then, I'll have both pairs of shoes ready this afternoon some time. Have a good morning!'

Marchan invited Franna to join them for lunch, but she excused herself, saying that she had other errands to attend to, such as delivering Mama Rita's moccasins. Marchan and his friends said good-bye to her and went and found something to eat. It was still a little early for lunch, but they decided to take it easy, as they had nothing else to do until it was time to collect Marchan's purchases. They purchased some bread and cheese and found a cool spot to sit. They sat and joked. Richard was interested in what life was like in the back woods, and Trevor asked again who the duke was that had given them a ride, but Marchan couldn't remember his name. The name that Trevor suggested, Chowonga, did not sound familiar to Marchan. Trevor named off a few others, but none of them sounded familiar either, so Trevor gave up.

'Why are you so interested?' asked Richard.

'I was wondering if it was my father,' said Trevor. 'The horses sounded like something he would do, having two quick horses with matching markings. And stopping to pick up people on the side of the road, and then defend them against a mob. I'm sure there's other's that would, but it would explain why he hasn't yet reached the capital.'

'Well, I'm sure everything will be explained. You say this duke that helped you was coming to the capital?' Richard said turning to Marchan.

'As far as I understood,' he replied. 'My mother promised that she would come and meet me in the capital. It should only be a few more days I would think. The Duke was not hurt that badly.'

'That's good, I look forward to meeting him and your mother,' said Richard.

They talked for a while longer and then returned to Johones' establishment.

Johones was very busy, but soon met them. 'Ah, you've come back, your tunic is ready, young master. I've also prepared for you a coat with a hood like my father taught me that Dwarves do like. And breeches and a jerkin as well.'

'You've been busy,' said Marchan. 'I'm a little overwhelmed.'

'A pleasure to be sure,' said Johones. 'I've never had a chance to make clothing for a Dwarf before. Here, here, try them on, there's a private corner behind this chest of drawers.' He kept talking to Richard and Trevor as Marchan got behind the chest of drawers and changed into his new clothes. They were extremely comfortable, of a better quality cloth than his mother had been able to afford for him. He slipped into them and came out. 'Oh, you look marvellous, simply marvellous. I'm so pleased to see you fit them so well,' said Johones.

'How much do I owe you for these?' Marchan asked, quite pleased himself.

'One crown if you please,' said Johones. 'I simply cannot give you a better price.'

'That's understating it,' said Richard. 'The cloth alone must be worth that much.'

'To be sure,' said Johones, 'I couldn't charge someone from such a noble race a sliver more.'

'Well, if I asked for a couple more changes of clothes, rougher cloth, good for travelling in?' asked Marchan. 'How much would those be?'

'Oh,' said Johones, 'The same. One crown each.'

'Very well', said Marchan and pulled out four crowns. 'One crown for this tunic set, and three for three more sets. I will return in a few days to pick them up. You already have my measurements.'

'Yes, yes, that's wonderful. Thank you, young master. I'll have them ready for you.'

They exited the Tailer's shop and walked across to Cartalla's. He was not quite ready for them. 'Just finished Franna's shoes. Almost done yours, little master,' he said. They walked out again and viewed the square. It was a hot and lazy afternoon. Marchan felt like he could sleep, his giddyness having worn off. They waited twenty minutes in a cool place and went back inside. Cartalla had finished. These shoes fit perfectly. Marchan had never had such good shoes, but again, they were high quality, ready for a duke's court, or a royal ball, and Cartalla wanted to sell them for the cost of the material. Marchan doubled the price and asked for a second pair of quality right for travelling long distances. He had to think about what he would be doing in a few days.