“Who do you think caught the lil’ stinker for him? Hah!” The cart rocked as Hank pulled himself up into the main compartment. “Had to throw away a nice moleskin coat after I bagged that critter.” He chuckled at the memory, shuffling the contents of the cabin to make room on the bench. He was clearly not accustomed to carrying passengers — the cabin was crowded with boxes, furs, and jars of dried goods, and it was hung with rifles, ropes, and antlers along the interior. He cleared a space and draped a hide of soft, lush fur over the bench for us.
The door opened, and my employer emerged just as the trapper was finishing up. Hudson helped us both into the carriage and climbed up into the driver’s box. With a click of the reins we were on our way. The tools and traps hanging all around us jangled ominously as we began rolling, but the hide beneath us was impossibly soft and comfortable.
“Find out anything interesting?” Hudson asked from the front.
“Nothing especially,” Jackaby replied, fidgeting with a slim metal tube I hadn’t noticed before. “There have indeed been all manner of individuals in that shop, and recently, too—but no one aura I could single out. You never mentioned that your friend was of goblin blood.”
Hudson’s head appeared through a little flap in the front of the cabin. “Come again? Known Bill for years. He ain’t no goblin.”
“Half blood, almost certainly. I would guess goblins are on his mother’s side, based on the ears. For some reason they tend to be more pronounced down paternal lines. Notorious brigands, their lot. Not the least bit trustworthy, but it stands to reason that he has a propensity for peddling pilfered goods. A useful associate to have on your side, all things considered, so long as you’re not counting on loyalty.”
The trapper looked about to object, but then nodded. “Huh. Actually explains a few things.”
“He does indeed deal in rare goods,” said Jackaby, “but he told me the same thing he told you. Bones he can do—sheep, salamanders, even a few human reliquaries—but there are no dinosaurs in the bunch. He does have quite a few curious items tucked in with the ordinary goods on his shelves, though.”
“Is that one of them?” I pointed to the small metal tube in his hands.
Jackaby held it up a bit sheepishly. “Oh, this?” I saw that it was a little penny whistle. It looked like the sort you could buy from any dime store. “Not exactly. No.”
“Then why on earth did you buy a—”
“He is a remarkably talented salesman.”
Hudson chortled and pulled the bundle of brown paper from his belt, waggling it through the flap in the canvas. “Tell me about it! Ain’t ever left that shop without somethin’ I didn’t need.” He passed the parcel back, and I unfolded it to find several strips of dried meat. “Deer jerky. Help yerselves.”
Through the window I could see that we had already left the little town behind. Gadston was nestled just outside the mouth of Gad’s Valley, twin bluffs bordering the natural gateway into the broad valley like marble pillars. As the cart rolled through the pass, we were briefly draped in shadow, and then the splendor of the landscape opened to us like a theater curtain. Light poured over the carriage, and vast acres of woody hills and waving grasses lay before us. The path wound past burbling streams and fields of wildflowers, with only the occasional barnyard or cottage adding a human touch to the scenery.