Mordowrgi’s golden eyes focused unblinkingly on the bear-weasel as it popped out of the treetops, assessing. It looked like an oversized red panda, if red pandas were black and smelled like popcorn. It was big enough to do some damage in a fight but significantly smaller than he was. Small enough, at least, that Mordowrgi was fairly certain he could clamp his jaw around its head. The tiger had the second-strongest bite in the cat family, after the jaguar. Mordowrgi was pretty sure he could crush this creature’s skull beneath his teeth, and it showed in his eyes.

Sabriel didn’t bother glancing down at her familiar, knowing full well that he’d be scoping out this stranger’s one. The presence of the man’s familiar didn’t bother her; if anything, it was a bonus to know both what and where it was. The corner of her mouth twitched at the weird animal’s assessment of her familiar. Mordowrgi did think he was all that, but that’s because he was. Sabriel had yet to meet a man or beast he couldn’t take down with ruthless efficiency.

She shrugged at his assertion that he was going to keep hold of his gun, confident that she could still draw and fire hers faster than he could get an accurate shot in with such an antique. She rested her hands on her hips where the right one was close to the butt of the gun, keeping her weight evenly distributed between her feet just in case she needed to leap into action, and listened carefully while he spoke. Her brown eyes followed his movements, face relaxed and neutral. What a charmer. Sabriel had met this type before and knew exactly how to handle it.

“What I’m hearing, pet,” she quirked an eyebrow, “is that while finding lost things is one of your talents, you’re a mite useless when it comes to finding the thing I’m looking for.” She tossed the coin over to him in a light under-arm throw so it was easy to catch. “Shame, because that was just the freebie.”

She rolled her shoulders and made a little show of sighing.

“Well, so long then, honey.” She turned sideways, pressed her fingers against her lips and blew him a kiss. “Good luck getting your talent to extend to things people are actually wanting to find.”

Internally, Sabriel rolled her eyes. What did this guy think, that she was just going to spill the beans on why she was looking for such a high-status fugitive? Nice try, buster. If he couldn’t figure out how to get her to Tristan without her disclosing her mission brief, then he was as good as useless… and if he could, he’d stop her before she left the clearing. Money talked, and from her otherworldly apparel and equipment, as he put it, she clearly had lots. This wannabe-cowboy was just like the street vendors in Brasilia, who’d laugh and tell you they couldn’t possibly sell to you for below three hundred Real, then chase you down the street begging you to take it for thirty when you walked away.

While Sabriel turned and started to stride in the opposite direction, Mordowrgi remained put, keeping his eyes fixed on the unusual pair. Never turn your back on a potential enemy was one of the first rules of the Academy, but Sabriel had long since learned that unless you have a tiger covering you was the appropriate suffix.