One, two, three...Exactly 90 silver coins total. 10 to go, and the Viscount's messenger might show up any day. He'd have to hurry.

Saska put all the coins back to the safety of his purse and looked around. He had been in town for two days now, sleeping outside since no inn would have him even if he could afford it. Those who had awaited his merchandise had most likely all brought their money to him already. But the thing was...although most people preferred not to deal with Outcasts at all, there were always bound to be people needing what they could offer. He'd just have to find a few more of those.

His eyes fell on the well-dressed elf leading his horse by the reins across the market square. He grinned. Someone like that would not even miss ten silvers. "Excuse me, mister!" he called out as he hurried over.

Raviel stopped. A human boy of maybe 15 years, sandy-haired and brown-eyed. His right eye was hidden by bandages covering almost half his face. His cloak was dirty, most likely from sleeping on bare ground, and his cap and clothes didn't fare much better. "Yes?"

"Would you like to buy some medicine? Perhaps moonflower oil to ward off werewolves? A charm against ghosts? I have many things not available from herbalists or alchemists."

"I don't need anything. My own magic is enough."

"How about a divination?" Not that he could actually see the future, but he could make up believable things.

Raviel chuckled. "Look, boy, you can't cheat a mage with tricks. If I were you, I'd find someone more gullible."

"Hey, everything I sell is the real deal!" Saska protested. "Well...okay, not that divination. I can't really do that."

Raviel noticed the thorn tattoos peeking ever-so-slightly under the boy's sleeves. "Are you an Outcast?"

"Yes." No point in denying it. "I have permission to come to town to sell my wares as long as I stay away from children. Think I'll steal them or something."

"Do you sell information?"

Saska's expression brightened instantly. "Whatever you wish to know."

"Tell me about the Viscount of Shadows."

"Er...whatever except that."

"About the Outcasts then."

"There isn't really much to tell. We're wanderers, not tied to any particular place."

"How do you avoid being killed by monsters?"

"Well...There are many different ways, depending on how much you can pay."

"I am not buying your herbs. Nevermind." He had done well enough on his own. "I'm heading to a settlement of non-humans protected by someone called 'Lady'. Do you know how to get there?"

"Of course. Lady of the Lake resides almost due west from here. I'd say two days on horseback." He rummaged through his pack. "And this charm will protect you from the siren's song of the water dwellers. Only ten silvers."

Raviel chuckled again. "You're a stubborn salesman to be sure."

Saska shrugged. "Well, I have to make my living somehow. Got kicked out of my group a few years ago, said I was bad luck."

"That's too bad." The elf picked out a single gold piece from his purse and gave it to the boy. "For the charm and the information."

Saska waited until the elf was out of sight before pocketing his prize. One gold coin was equal to ten silvers. That concluded his day.

He looked up to the sky. It looked like it would rain tonight. After a brief mental debate he hurried after Raviel. With a wealthy elf lord to cater to, nobody in the inn would notice if he sneaked to the hayloft in the stables.

~*~*~

On itself that plan had been good. What Saska hadn't taken into consideration was that others might get the same idea. He woke in the middle of the night to the voices of young men and at least one woman. As he peeked over the edge of the hayloft, he saw them down below, one of them carrying a lantern. They were laughing and chatting, most likely at least a bit drunk. The horses remained quiet, so they knew at least one of them. Probably a stable boy.

Just then one of them looked up, straight at him. He quickly ducked out of sight, but too late.

"Looks like we're not alone," one of the men commented.

"Oh, a vagabond? Or perhaps a horse thief?"

"I'll go check it out," another said and climbed the ladder to the hayloft.

Saska backed away. "I only wanted a dry place to sleep. I don't want to fight."

"Eh, the kid says he doesn't want to fight?" The man – probably about 20 years old – announced like he was in spotlight. "Too bad."

He grabbed the front of Saska's shirt. "My pops owns this inn, and strays like you are not welcome."

"Let me go."

"Or what?"

Saska grabbed the arm holding him. "Or I'll break your wrist."

The man laughed. Then he noticed the thorn tattoos and stopped. "Dirty Outcast..." he muttered.

"Let me go. Neither of us needs to be hurt." Outcasts had a bad reputation, but also dangerous one.

"Alright." Then he flung Saska over the edge.

The boy hit the dirt floor solidly on his back, barely able to curl enough to avoid hitting his head. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and left him too stunned to react in time before the other two dragged him back to his feet and held him firmly between them.

His first assailant climbed back down and tossed Saska's pack to the girl. "Hey, Rissa, check out what the stray had!"

She rummaged through the items, giggling. Saska grimaced as his herb pouches and tiny potion bottles hit the dirt. Then she found his purse. "Look! He has a lot of money."

The man, probably the leader of this group, looked down on their captive. "Must be stolen. Let's keep it."

"You can't! I earned that money through honest means!" Saska protested.

The man grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. "All Outcasts are thieves and liars." Then he tugged at the bandages with his other hand. "Let's see what else you're hiding."

"Ewww!" The girl looked at him in disgust.

"No wonder you were sold to Outcasts," the leader commented. "I would have just burned a baby looking like that from the start. Freak."

"Not too late now, right?" one of the others jeered.

"Nah, we'd be accused of murder. Or cursed by the Viscount of Shadows." He walked around Saska and retrieved a long piece of leather from one of the hooks on the wall. "Let's just make sure he never wants to come back here. Hold him still."

~*~*~

After the night in a soft bed and a great breakfast compared to some of the stuff he had eaten lately Raviel set out of town, following the river west. Much to his surprise he spotted a familiar boy – well, familiar dirty cap – at the riverside. The boy's shoulders were slumped and he was just staring at the water.

Raviel dismounted a short distance from him. "Are you alright?"

Saska tilted his head and cast a brief look at him. The bandages from yesterday were gone, revealing a large red mark like blood reaching from his hairline to his cheekbone. "Not really."

"Can I help in some way?" Raviel asked. He had learned to be more cautious in the past weeks, but still would not deny his help from those in need.

The boy shook his head, placing both his hand on his lap with the thorn tattoos visible. "I'm going to die. These thorns will become real and kill me."

If he had been a girl or at least in a relationship with one, he might have been spared. The Viscount wanted more servants before money. But as he was an outcast also among the Outcasts, any kind of relationship would never happen. Stealing a child...no, he couldn't do that.

Just then he saw a robed figure on the river's surface along with his own and Raviel's reflections. He quickly scampered to his feet to face the source of the image and bowed.

"You know why I am here, do you not?" the robed man spoke. If he even was a man and not simply some kind of specter to do the Viscount's bidding. No face could be seen in the shadows of his hood.

"Yes," Saska replied, his tone heavy. "I have failed. I have no money."

"The Viscount does not accept failure."

"I know."

"Hold on," Raviel interrupted. "Is this only about money?"

Saska nodded.

The elf retrieved the purse hidden under his shirt, the one that contained the majority of his money, and handed it to the robed man. "Is this enough?"

"Most generous for a stranger." There was a brief silence. "The Viscount has decided. The boy now belongs to you."

Saska clamped one hand over his right eye. It burned. "What..?"

"Your life, your body, your senses. They all belong to your new master."

Slowly Saska lowered his hand. His vision was blurry for a second before it cleared.

Raviel was equally confused. Suddenly he could...see himself through the boy's eyes. And one of them had turned the same emerald green his own eyes were. Then the connection was gone as quickly as it had come, the green slowly reverting back to brown.

The robed man bowed deeply to the elf. "I hope you find this trade to your liking, lord Raviel. The boy is yours to use however you wish." Then he disappeared.

Saska wouldn't look directly at the elf, instead studying the ground at his feet. "What is your wish, master?" he asked quietly.

"Please. My name is Raviel. What is yours?"

"Saska."

"Well, Saska, I don't believe in slavery. You are free to go and do as you wish."

Saska shook his head. "I can't do that. Outcasts are only free when they die."

"I'm saying I set you free."

The boy held out his wrists, still bearing the thorn tattoos. "There is no force in this world that can do that. Either let me accompany you or kill me quickly."