“I don’t know about you, but as for me I wouldn’t buy that potato.”

  The woman held the potato up to the light and eyed it before setting it back down in the barrel she’d gotten it from.

  “Get lost dwarf,” said the merchant standing nearby. “Go explore a cave or something. If you know crap all about potatoes, I’ll eat that one raw.”

  Wergen looked up at the man tempted to make an issue out of things but then decided to take the high road.

  “I’m not claiming to know anything about potatoes. The rest of barrel looks fine to me. But I am claiming to know something about that one,” he said pointing to the spud the woman had recently rejected.

  Though the merchant had plenty of customers waiting to be helped, he was currently ignoring them to deal with this dwarf. It also didn’t hurt that the woman who the dwarf had supposedly been helping was quite good looking. She had long black hair and a pretty face. She admittedly was a bit shorter than he usually preferred but given her other endowments he was willing to overlook it.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” the woman said. “Is the potato good or not?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it,” the merchant defended.

  “I wouldn’t buy it,” said Wergen. “And if I was him, I would throw it in that trash heap or better yet a fire.”

  “No offense,” the merchant said, “but I think I know a bit more about the selling of root vegetables than you.”

  “Because I’m a dwarf? Because I should only know about things down in the dark underground. Perhaps things that grow underground like lichen, fungi and . . . potatoes. But it’s fine don’t take my word for it. What about a human druid, would you take his word?”

  “Is there one around? Or is it another figment of an ale sotted dwarven brain?”

  Wergen once again strongly considered making an issue of things but instead turned back toward the crowd bustling behind him.

  “Trill, get over here!” he shouted. Trill looked up from the apple barrel he was sorting through and pushed through the crowd over to Wergen.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked.

  “One way or the other,” said the merchant. “Either this dwarf needs to go back to harvesting rocks or I need to give up on potatoes.”

  “Not potatoes,” Wergen corrected. “Just this one. I keep telling you there’s nothing wrong with the others. At least as far as I know.”

  “Fine, then. Sorry I don’t recognize either of you, but presumably you are a druid. If that’s true, please let us all know whether or not you would eat that potato?” said the merchant, clearly pandering to the customers he had been ignoring, who were now more interested in the minor excitement over the potato than in buying anything.

  “Oh, I am a druid. That is surely the truth. Do you mind if I inspect the root in question?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Trill picked up the potato and turned it over in his hand. After a half turn, he set it back down, though this time not back into the barrel but by itself on a nearby counter.

  “I can say without question that I would never eat that potato. Further, neither should you, she or anyone else. In fact, I strongly suggest someone quickly throw it into a hot fire.”

  “Now I’ve heard it all. So, I should burn up my earnings so that you two can run whatever kind of scam you’ve got going. Is that it?”

  “Look,” said Wergen now tired of the man. “I was just trying to do the pretty lass, and by extension you, a favor. Take it for what you want. But just be clear that when that spud busts open and larvae start spilling out of it, you will only have yourself to blame.”

  The watching crowd were now wholly invested in the free show and had moved in close to hear every word. However, when Wergen said ‘larvae’ they all took a step or two back.

  “That potato?” the merchant said.

  “Aye.”

  “Larva?”

  “How do you know?” asked the woman who had been about to purchase it.

  “Did you know that there is such an insect as the green banded burrowing wasp?” asked Trill. “Though it’s likely you may have heard it referred to as just a green banded wasp.”

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  “No, I’ve never heard of it,” the woman replied.

  “As its full name implies, in addition to flight, they can also burrow. They dig holes in the ground as nests. Particularly in fields where crops are planted. Tilled ground being easier to burrow in I suppose. They also tend to favor tilled fields because the green banded wasp likes to build its home nearby root vegetables like carrots, turnips and potatoes.”

  “And you’re telling me there’s a wasp living in that potato?” the merchant said incredulously. “Now I’ve heard it all.”

  “No,” replied Wergen. “No wasps in there yet. But wasp larvae? That’s another matter altogether.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Trill. The green banded burrowing wasp digs a burrow in the ground near root vegetables so that it can plant a crop of its own. But instead of potatoes in the ground, it plants its young in the vegetable.

  “As the young get older, they find themselves snugly living in a giant source of food. A spot that they consume from the inside out, until finally they reach the edge and then they and a couple dozen of their siblings spill out into the world.

  “And should they be lucky enough to be someplace where more food is readily available, like a potato barrel for instance, they each burrow into another potato and continue growing until they are ready to pupate and become adult wasps. One potato with larvae can easily ruin an entire barrel.”

  “And that potato has been tainted then?” said the merchant still trying to retain his indignity but beginning to believe just the same.”

  “Oh yes. There’s no question. I would never have noticed myself, but Wergen here has such keen eyes. You see the mother wasp likes to be sure her offspring will flourish. Thus, they always plant four batches of their young in every potato. And they always do it in a very regular pattern. Four little dots in a diamond shape on the side of the spud. You can see it quite clearly if you know what to look for. In this case, it’s right there,” said Trill pointing to the potato.

  The gathering of onlookers all tried to peer at the potato without getting any nearer. The merchant bent over and gave it a close look without picking it up before saying, “Bah, that’s just the regular eyes of the potato. Green banded burrowing wasp. What a load of nonsense.”

  Wergen shrugged and said, “Suit yourself. Put the thing back and when it spills open, and you have to throw away the entire barrel, we promise not to say we told you so.”

  The merchant eyed the two and then looked back at the potato. He gave the spud another look and then again turned back to Wergen. Finally, he grabbed a piece of burlap from behind him and wrapped the potato in it. Holding the thing out in front of him at arm’s length, he moved quickly over to the next tent where a giant pot sat suspended above a blazing fire. Without saying a word to the woman whose tent it was, he tossed the potato still covered in burlap into the fire and quickly returned to his own tent. The group of onlookers who had been watching the exchange gave a small cheer.

  “Better safe than sorry, I suppose,” he said when he returned.

  “Exactly so,” said Trill. “Now how much for some of these apples. Just two if you don’t mind.”

  “Suppose you’ll be wanting them free for saving my potatoes,” groused the merchant.

  “No. No. I want no such thing. I will gladly pay. Getting rid of another nest of green banded wasps is reward enough for me.”

  Wergen watched Trill lead the merchant back over the apple barrel. Once they were several steps away, he turned to the lady.

  “Thanks for the warning,” she said as she turned and began to walk away.

  “Aren’t you going to buy some potatoes then?” asked Wergen.

  “No, I seem to have lost my appetite for them.”

  “Guess that makes sense.” Wergen fell in step beside her and continued the conversation. “You know I believe I know you. Name is Wergen by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you. But I really don’t think I do know you,” the lady replied. “I think I would remember knowing a dwarf.”

  “Well, I don’t actually know you personally, but I believe I have seen you before with a friend of mine. A fellow by the name of Saxon.”

  “That’s possible. I do know Saxon. In fact, I just saw him not long ago. Just before I went to get that potato.”

  “Really? Saxon here? Last I heard he was in Clan Mullton. I didn’t think Mullton had come to the conclave.”

  “I wouldn’t know as I haven’t seen them either. But it doesn’t matter. Saxon is no longer in that clan. He’s in Clan Trion.”

  “Trion? Not sure I remember that one, but I sure would like to catch up with Saxon. Do you know where Clan Trion is set up at the conclave?”

  “They got here late, so they had to set up on the far side of the merchants. There are only a few clans over there. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. Trion’s banner is green on top and blue on the bottom. Has a “T” on it.”

  “Well, that shouldn’t be hard to find at all. Thanks for the help. I think I’ll go find him right now.”

  “It was no problem. Thank you for the potato thing. Be sure to tell Saxon that I’ll see him tonight.”

  “I’ll be sure to do it. Though, you haven’t actually told me your name.”

  “You can call me Grace.”

  “Well Grace, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

  Wergen watched as the woman ducked into another tent that was selling women’s clothing. Without losing sight of it, he moved back a few steps and signaled Trill to catch up. Trill bit into one of the apples he’d bought and as he approached, he held out the second, offering it to Wergen.

  “No thanks,” said Wergen. “I’m a dwarf. Haven’t you heard? I’m supposed to eat moss and rocks.”

  “They are quite delicious. The apple. Not moss and rocks. You’re missing out.” Trill picked the seeds from out of the core and tossed the rest into a nearby trash barrel. He deposited the seeds and the second apple into a pouch. “What did the lovely lady have to say?”

  “Her name was Grace. Clan Mullton is not here. Saxon is now with Clan Trion. Trion is located on the other side of the merchant’s tents.”

  “Should we go check?”

  “Sean and L’nova are tracking Saxon. We can go check on the clan later. Let’s see where Grace goes.”

  The pair sat for a while watching women going in and out of the tent while trying to not look too conspicuous. Time passed and there was no sign of Grace. Their loitering began to be a bit awkward. So Wergen sent Trill to go peek into the tent.

  Trill snuck a look in but then turned and disappeared into the tent. After a moment he came back out looking chagrin.

  He trotted back over to Wergen and said, “She’s not in there. The owner said there was no back exit, and it doesn’t look like there is. She gave us the slip.”