quietly and unthreateningly above them.
Inquiries in town had produced no mention of visitors
resembling Jalwar or Folly. Either the two had lost their
way or else with Drom’s aid they had already passed the
renegade pair in the woods. Jon-Tom experienced a pang of
regret. He still wasn’t completely convinced of Folly’s
complicity in the theft of the map.
No time for that now. The rabbit on the ATC implied
they might have trouble purchasing what they wanted from
this Snooth. Jon-Tom struggled to compose a suitably ef-
fective speech. AH they needed was a little bit of medicine.
Nothing so complex as a malleable globe or toothless saw.
His hand went to the tiny vial dangling from the chain
around his neck. Inside was the formula for the desperately
needed medicine. He hadn’t brought it this far to be turned
away empty-handed.
There was no sign, no posted proclamations to advertise
the shop’s presence. They turned around a cluster of oaks,
and there it was, a simple wooden building, one story
high. It was built up against the rocks. A single wooden
door was set square in the center of the storefront, which
was shaded by a broad, covered porch.
A couple of high-backed rocking chairs sat on the
porch, unoccupied. Wooden shingles in need of repair
covered the sloping roof that likewise ran up into the
rocks. Jon-Tom estimated the entire building enclosed no
more than a thousand square feet of space. Hardly large
enough for store and home combined.
As they drew close, a figure emerged from inside and
settled into the farther rocking chair. The chair creaked as