In the morning, after I'd gotten some of the thin porridge into Miss Aneta, I made my first try with a scrap of fabric torn from the cloth I used to wipe her brow. I positioned her like the whey-faced people had and did what I'd seen the day before. And there was the snap, the spark I'd felt, and suddenly I had a heavy, ragged-edged scrap of gold.

"Let me try something," I suggested, and slid into my goatskin and became a mouse. I winked at her—although I doubt she could see it—and skittered out into the front of the wagon, down into the ropes that held the ox to the cart. Akiiki and his man were discussing their impending fortunes. Whether they meant to sell the Lady Uduru off, or rent out her magic, I did not know and did not care. I wanted only to put a stop to it.