Quinta receives a curt nod at that, the stiffening of the lower lip that shows that the vendor's wife is, or appears to be, a little impressed at the change.  It is also possible that she simply sees the benefit of having more guards in the area, even if they are private contract.  "It sounds like a respectable setup for a former soldier such as yourself.  One kindly safe-like, if I'm not too bold, what might make a possible family arrangement."<br/><br/>Rolling his eyes at his wife's behavior, the man uses a long, thin iron fork to lift out a fresh-charred skewer.  What look like plantains and, possibly, yucca root fill the spaces between the meat.  No serving dishes here, rather the wife passes the food over on a broad green leaf as big as the fighters' two hands together.  The lady continues as if she's been fresh-wound and yet to begin running down.  "Have I told you about my son Hamrick, what apprentices on the Faith of Skovis as a cabin boy?  He's marryin' age... course, he's the oldest cabin boy I've known... seen thirty summers, that lad.  But he's got most his teeth still..."  At the idea, a creeping apprehension appears in the wife's eyes.  "And the Bonejacks..." the 'proper' name of the mercenaries, "they ain't holding a grudge, are they?"<br/><br/>*<br/><br/>A few meters away, the girl in the street listens to Fiera's response.  Seeming to succumb, momentarily, to despair, the human girl bites her lower lip and turns away to walk a few frustrated, exhausted steps, her eyes glimmering when she turns back to Fiera.  She seems oblivious to the spectacle she's creating.  "I can... I can..."  she swallows, seeming to force herself to regain some vim as she latches once more onto a shred of wild hope.  Her eyes widen and she begins talking animatedly, "If you'll go with me, I have more to sell.  There's things at the house... Pa's tools, the stove, the... the clothes..."  Then, it seems that the rest of Fiera's words sink in, and the girl freezes up at the mere notion of sharing her story.  She stops her frantic, weak pacing and returns her eyes to the mage.<br/><br/>"The soldiers won't help me."  She sets her teeth and shakes her head.  "They're<em>soldiers.  </em>How can they turn me away?  We're citizens... at least, Papa says we are... we farm this land, we're of the colony and they ought to protect us... but, but the officer, he said they can't have a patrol there until next month."  Turning her eyes hard onto Fiera, anger burns in them.  "Next<em>month</em>... can you believe it?  And... they tried to take me to the chapel, cause they thought I was crazy.  Well I'm not."  She reaches into the sack, rummaging among bead-strands, a few pieces of trade-silver... a bolt of silk.  Down her ragged blouse, her smallish breasts are almost bared, though she seems not to notice.<br/><br/><br/>She stuffs her trinkets and minor valuables back into the heavy sack in her hand.  "I need the Bonejacks.  They'll go for money.   I just... I just don't have any<i>gold,</i>you see... we've never been wealthy.  The only gold I ever held--" she is weeping as she speaks now, and a strands of her beads break, spilling the greenish chunks of smooth glass in a ticking rattle onto the shell-paved street, "--the only gold was when we came here.  Papa paid our way with real gold..."  She seems to have found in that knapsack what she seeks, and she pulls out a bundle the size of a warclub, bulbous at one end and wrapped in cheap canvas.  The narrow end of the canvas is stained rust-red.<br/><br/>"I need money to hire them, or they said I could<i>work it off</i>."  She leaves the sack on the street, and rolls the sack-cloth bundle to Fiera's feet.  "But how can I trust them?"<br/><br/>She stares into Fiera's eyes, hungry for an answer.  The bundle, as it tumbles, thuds like a dressed ham on the gray-white clamshells.  It opens partway from the movement, and there, staring up from the bundle, is a rough-skinned, brownish hunk of flesh and bone.  If anyone exposes it the rest of the way-- and yes, without a doubt, someone will-- they will see a massive, clawed appendage, severed from its body not terribly long ago.  Similar to a large, long-limbed lizard or giant ostrich.  Its three splayed fore-toes span nine inches across, and each is tipped with a thick, but dull, claw.<br/><br/>"They killed my family," the girl says, her mouth twitching and breath sagging.  "I found what was left... I tried to bury..." at that, she breaks down completely.  Weary, she collapses to sit in the street, her clay-reddened feet and hands splayed and bare, her right arm still clutching her stomach, but her belongings, at least, are forgotten.