Besides, here in Sanctuary, what guards were available were as likely as anyone else to rob their employers if they felt they could get away with their loot.
Despite his visibly good appetite, Melilot was uneasy. As well as Jarveena, another guest sat at his table. It was not his custom to admit strangers to his private quarters. Had the fellow not been vouched for by Jarveena personally, he would never have set foot outside the public areas below.
Yet he had been vouched for in a most disturbing fashion. Had he somehow ensnared the girl-woman, Melilot corrected himself, remem- bering how much time had elapsed-perhaps by magic? Was their pres- ence part of some secret plot against him? It was second nature to all in Sanctuary to think in such terms, from lifelong habit.
Keeping up, between mouthfuls, a flow of gossip as entertaining as might be heard anywhere in the city and a sight more trustworthy than most, given that it was based on what he daily gleaned from the docu- ments given him to transcribe or translate, Melilot studied Jarveena from the corner of his eye. She had changed more than he had in the past decade-and small wonder, given the difference in their age and bodily condition-but she still affected mannish garb, boots and breeches and laced jerkin. She was still, moreover, patterned with vicious scars, though they were far less conspicuous than formerly. Therein lay the reason for her annual returns to Sanctuary, and also why she was not already as rich as Melilot. Spells were not cheap, particularly when one must apply to Enas Yorl for them: one of the three greatest wizards in the land.