“If it please you, Lady, give us three good mules.” At a nudge at his side, he opened them again. A curious mule, its brown eyes limpid, stared at him. Two more muscled in, their long ears waggling; the tallest one, dark brown with a creamy nose, rested its chin on his shoulder and breathed out a contented-sounding snort, spraying the environs. “Thank you, Lady,” muttered Cazaril.
Cazaril holds out his hands, and the horse trader's three best mules spring to Cazaril's side
