'A moment, mistress,' the storyteller called as she turned to go-'A mistake!This is silver.'
'Your eyes are as keen as ever, you old devil. Take the extra as a reward forcourage. I've heard what you have to do to gather the stories you can tell!'
Hakiem slid the coin into the pouch belted within his tunic and heard thesatisfying clink as it joined the others secreted there. These days he extortedbreakfast money more out of habit than need. Purses were growing fat inSanctuary with the influx of wealth brought by the newcomers. Even extortion wasgrowing easier, as people became less tightfisted. Some, like Illyra, seemedalmost eager to give it away. Already, this morning, he had collected enough forten breakfasts without exerting the effort hitherto required to obtain enoughfor one. After decades of decay. Sanctuary was coming to life again with theinflux of wealth brought by the Beysib troops. Their military strength was fargreater than the Sanctuary garrison could muster, and only the fact that theforeigners had made no claim to the governance of the city itself kept it in thehands of the Prince and his ministers. But the threat was always there, potent,lending a new spice of danger to the customary activities of the people of thecity.
Scratching again, the storyteller frowned into the morning brightness, and notall his wrinkles were from squinting. It was almost... no, it -was too good tobe true. Hakiem had too many years of anguish behind him not to look a gifthorse in the mouth. All gifts had a price, no matter how well-hidden orinconsequential it might seem at the time. It only stood to reason that thesudden prosperity brought by the newcomers would exact a price from the hell