The teenage girl held a softball-sized rock in one hand, glaring at the subdued man she believed to be her biological father.

Looking on, the bargainer silently shook his head. It was time for him to intervene before his partner caused further embarassment.

Dor felt the world once again shift around her. This time, she found herself outside a small trading shack. On the porch, a figure in an overcoat sat on a rocking chair, satchel on his lap.

The girl quickly adjusted her position, taking aim at the stranger.

"Congratulations," the man said, "You have passed your second trial. Lest the experience haunt you, they were both spirits, as am I. Your father isn't here."

"My father is back in reality with Mom," Dor shot back. The guy who gave me half my genes and my tenuous connection to reality is God-knows-where."

The stranger nodded in acknowledgment. "Very well. I am to be your third trial. We must Strike Three Trades, and then you may continue."

Dor's eyes narrowed. Deals with strangers were practically never good things. In her experience, about half of them were fae abduction attempts.

The figure took her silence as permission to continue. "I am expecting another visitor soon, so I'll keep it short. Do you consent to an exchange of names, with the caveat that neither of us may use the other's name to bind or otherwise use in a manner that the other would not likely approve?"

Dor mentally parsed through this, then said, "Following our agreement, let us simply never say each other's name again, without prior consent."

The bargainer nodded. "I am," here, of course, he made the same incomprehensible screech he'd made on so many other Deals, then smiled pleasantly.

Dor scowled in return. "Dorothy Erin Shalks, call me Dor," she replied. "Your name sounds like antique modem noise."

The stranger responded, "The nature of that name may be discussed as part of a future arrangement. To keep things civil, though, I'll add that Uther Nemo Surret has referred to me as Faustian. You may feel at liberty to do so as well."

Despite her earlier comments, the teenager riveted her eyes on the spirit, outrage plain in her expression.

"Second Deal," Faustian continued. "Would you consent to tell me some things of interest about yourself in exchange for information about your world that you would find useful?"

Exercising a great deal of self-control, Dor finally nodded. "I travel worlds," she began, "I've done so since I was ten. When I was younger, my Mom and Dad - adopted Dad - told me it might happen. They put me through some hard core survival and martial arts training, taught me to sing, to speak and read Latin, Mandarin, and Arabic, enrolled me in a private school, and made my life a big heckin' chore. They did the same for my brother, but he lucked out and hasn't once slipped out of reality."

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"Anyway, this latest time, I ended up in a place Mom described to me as the Lands of Song and Artifice. The Singer-to-Winds was gone, and giant monsters were ripping the lands apart, so I got some help from a ..." Dor choked up, angry at her sudden distress. Rhea was not a friend, and could be harsh. Even so, she'd probably died to restore her world.

As the teenager spoke, a small bird came into view, flying improbably fast from a distant hilltop. Faustian started looking impatient, then finally interjected, "I suppose that's good enough. Well, there's no two ways about it, Dor, you've missed your birthday, but should be home Christmas Eve."

Dor let loose an annoyed growl and lobbed her stone to the side.

The bargainer immediately said, "Third Deal. Let's make this fast. I hold in each hand a pill. If you take the red-"

"Forget it," the young heroine said flatly, "Taking pharmaceuticals from a stranger I just met is dumb. Taking them from an interworld trickster is the dumbest idea, ever. No Deal."

The spirit grew agitated, rubbing his head. "Fine," he replied. "Make a counter-offer."

Dor, still angry at him, said "Let me have my birthday."

"I'm afraid you'll need to be specific here," Faustian stated, "What do you want for your birthday?"

"Cake, a party, and presents," Dor replied.

"Done." Faustian stated as the teenager vanished. Now, to the next matter.

---

Following this meeting, the Spirit of the Deal quickly summoned his partners, gesturing to the approaching myna. "We're having company soon," he said. "This will be our dissatisfied customer, Surrett." As he spoke, a warm breeze wafted through his shop. The landscape blurred, replaced by a tropical island more suitable for their visitor.

The myna landed lightly on the bargainer's satchel, a small pinkish coin grasped in one claw. "You all know what this is about," the bird began, "The mortal whose Deal you so creatively struck is aware of agreements you've made with my complement and this one," he glanced at the tormentor. "This means that they were in some way under your direction when they encountered Surret's daughter. Then you defaulted a third time by striking your own Deals with her."

The Spirit of the Deal frowned somewhat upon hearing this. His partners, in contrast, were clearly scandalized.

"The girl acknowledges a different father," the bargainer replied.

"Immaterial," the bird stated. "Surret himself considers her family and created the Deal implicitly to defend her from you."

"He should have worded his offer better, if that was the case," the strange man continued.

"The girl called me 'Dad' when I took his form," the tormentor offered.

The bargainer winced upon hearing this, causing the myna to cackle with glee.

"Surret!" the bird called out, "Your daughter acknowledged you as kin! The bargainer has failed three times to honor his pact, and so must make restitution for each transgression."

A tan boy wearing reddish armor and wielding a bronze spear strode up with a cautious expression on his face, his attention focused entirely on the bargainer.

"You must have exchanged quite a bit to put me in these circumstances," Surret said. "A little bird told me you can't do much at all on your own aside from trading services with others, Faustian."

"This is true, Surret, but I'm not sure how that knowledge benefits you," the Spirit of the Deal replied. A hint of frostiness crept across his normally professional expression. "Deals can't be used by a mortal, unless they're the very ones that mortal has struck."

The boy shrugged. "I have a specific request of you, Faustian. You will call in no favors for this, and will not seek me out again, afterward. It will take you but a moment. Agree to do this one thing for me, and we are even."

Faustian looked at him suspiciously, but finally nodded. "Very well. Restitution and noninvolvement in exchange for one brief personal service.

"Good," Surret replied, "Sell all the Deals you keep in your satchel to Munin for his shiny copper coin."

The bargainer said something less than professional.

---

A strong wind blew across the beach at that moment, annoying Surret. When he blinked his eyes clear, the spirits were gone.

"Well done, Munin!" he cried out.

Noticing he was alone, the boy immediately looked around, suddenly very suspicious.