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[Thraxas]

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Swenson raised up, reaching around with one hand to support his aching back. It had been an all day affair: the herding, then the shearing. It was nearing sundown and he had a considerable pile of wool lying at his feet; the sheep he had just finished, he sent it scuttling on its way to the other side of the pen. He dropped the shears at his feet and wiped his brow. His sidekick in this endeavor, a youthful Yewian named Kaspar, stood nearby wiping his hands on a tattered linen towel. "How many more days of this?" he asked his partner.

"Five, I think," Swenson replied.

Kaspar spat. "Not nearly enough for all this work. Who do they think we are? Orcs? We can't keep up this pace!"

Swenson sat down heavily and Kaspar followed suit. He turned his gaze to the foreman, a man named Lokrin, who watched them and the other workers from outside the sheep pen, and nodded. "Try telling that to him," he remarked. "See what it gets ya."

"What happened to Morris was an accident," Kaspar countered. "I don't believe his story. His horse kicked him in the head."

Swenson shook his head. "No, your horse kicked *you* in the head if you believe that! He has kept his mouth shut all day. Remember how he was before? You don't hear him bellyaching anymore. They made a believer out of him."

Lokrin had entered the gate and approached them. "You two, what are you doing... taking a break? I don't pay loafers! Get back to work! There's still an hour of daylight left!" He placed his thin hands on his hips.

"We're tired," Kaspar argued. "We have to haul this load to the Abbey and after that it *will* be dark. After that, I'm going home. Not a thing you can do about it, Lokky."

The foreman shot him a disdainful gaze.

Swenson stood up and prepared to take an armful of wool from the pile.

Lokrin looked at him. "You with him?"

Swenson shook his head. "I'm your man for another hour anyway," he replied.

Kaspar rose and took a bundle of wool in hand. Together he and Swenson started off toward the Abbey where the wool was being stored until it could be loaded aboard ship. Both complained bitterly to one another about the current state of affairs. Yes, the volume of work had increased, and some gold was flowing into their pockets, but the hours were long and the breaks few. It was up early, to the fields and forest till sunset. Little could be done around their own homes and farms; the wives were becoming irritated by the absence of their husbands.

Having delivered the last of the wool bundles to the Abbey, the two men parted company, Kaspar heading home and Swenson returning to the pen to shear a few more sheep.

The next day both men met again bright and early as they always did. Swenson was tired, barely rested, but Kaspar looked far worse. Swen laughed at him when he saw him... his eyes both blacked and his lip bruised and swollen. "You fall into a ditch?" he chuckled.

Kaspar, looking to see where Lokrin was and finding him distracted, mumbled nearly incoherently. "My horse kicked me," he said.

But he did not go home early that day.
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"If a criminal has what you want, you do business with him."