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I frown again. It's going to be difficult clearing young Cerius's name if it involves implicating Prince Frisen-Akan. Hardly the sort of result Cicerius is looking for. #53 в контекст | | |
I place a small coin in Kerk's hand. He looks at it with contempt, and demands more. #54 в контекст | | |
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I press another coin in his hand. His hand trembles. He needs his dwa, and quickly. #56 в контекст | | |
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"Absolutely. He's overseeing the operation in the city. He's working with the Society of Friends. #59 в контекст | | |
And the Prince is bankrolling them. They're bringing in Choirs of Angels. Very good. Very strong. And cheap." #60 в контекст | | |
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"Simple," he says. "Cerius told me. He can't hold his dwa. Rambles like an old man." #62 в контекст | | |
Kerk laughs, but it costs his broken-down body a great deal of effort. I ask him who's supplying the Choirs of Angels, but Kerk doesn't know. He's becoming too desperate to speak much more. He holds out his hand urgently. I give him more money and he hurries off to buy dwa. #63 в контекст | | |
I head back to bed, not wishing to think about what I've just learned. Maybe if I just ignore it it will go away. Unfortunately my bedroom is already too hot to sleep in. I fling open the window. Outside a stallholder starts shouting about his produce and enters an argument with a customer. I shut my window in disgust. There's no getting away from the heat and the noise in Twelve Seas. I detest it. #64 в контекст | | |
My two Elvish clients pick this moment to visit me. As I open the door, the argument outside intensifies into a screaming match and several bystanders get involved in the uproar. #65 в контекст | | |
"Just ignore it," I say, shutting the door and motioning them in. They look round at the wreckage in bewilderment. #66 в контекст | | |
"Just tidying up," I say as I clear some space by kicking junk into the corners of my room. Young Kaby unfortunately chooses this moment to burst through my outside door with her boyfriend Palax in her arms. She lets him go and he falls to the ground, where he's sick on the rug. #67 в контекст | | |
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Out in the street people are screaming. My room is as hot as Minarixa's oven. Broken furniture is strewn everywhere. Palax's face is turning blue. Makri rushes in with a sword in her hand to see what all the fuss is about. The Elves are close to panic. #69 в контекст | | |
"So how are you enjoying your visit to the city?" I ask, and offer them a beer. #70 в контекст | | |
