Вилорп

→"It looks like other people were thinking the same thing," says Makri.

→By now we're close to the street with the fountain. We turn the corner to find a riot going on. A mob is attempting to reach the fountain and the Civil Guards are trying to hold them back. The mob is mostly made up of beggars, but I can see a few shopkeepers in there, and one or two craftsmen. We stand on the corner and watch the struggle.

→"It's a fountain. With a statue of a whale. How much more obvious could it be?"

→"Don't exaggerate. Anyway, I told you. I have a mental blank on anything to do with religion."

→"I can't believe you didn't think of this earlier," says Makri. "Like maybe before we tramped all over the entire city searching for anything that looked like a whale."

→We set off once more along Quintessence Street.

→"Number one chariot at investigating," she mutters. "He just remembers now there's a whale fountain in Twelve Seas."

→Makri sheathes her swords.

→"Do you want to come or are you just going to make sarcastic comments?"

→"And you've only just thought of that?"

→"My thoughts rarely venture into the realms of religious mystery. Anyway there's a small fountain in the back streets off Quintessence Street. The statue in the middle is of St. Quatinius talking to the whale."

→"And you've only just thought of this?"

→Makri eyes me.

→"The whale was full of religious knowledge. So the story goes, anyway."

→"Why?" says Makri.

→"St. Quatinius. Patron saint of this city. One of our most famous religious figures. He once talked to a whale."

→"What?"

→"St. Quatinius once talked to a whale," I say.

→Makri is in the back yard at the Avenging Axe, practising with her weapons.

→I relax for the first time in a long time. By the time I leave the bathing house I'm feeling a little more like my old self. I call into Ginixa's bakery and buy four pastries and eat them as I walk along the road. A street urchin stands right in front of me and holds out his hand. Feeling moderately benevolent, I break one of the pastries in half and give a piece to him. He thanks me and runs off. And then I have a sudden flash of inspiration. Perhaps it's a reward from the gods for being charitable. Or perhaps the relaxation brought on by bathing. More likely it's the pastries; I generally think better on a full stomach.