Chapter 15
Then they were there. Altfarran, where three rivers ended their tumultuous journeys from the mountains and formed the swirling head of the River Endamar. And there was the Gretmearc; the massive, rambling market that sprawled either side of the river, its two halves joined by a huge, many levelled and ramshackle bridge which seemed to be permanently full of people, animals, and vehicles travelling in both directions.
It was a brilliant spring morning when Hawklan parted from the old woman but it was late afternoon by the time he arrived at the Gretmearc. He was quite tired, having tried to walk too quickly through the increasing crowds, but his heart lightened at the sight that greeted him. The Gretmearc was a blaze of colour and movement. Its tents and stalls and booths, its
