At last Hanse asked, “What’s the second favor?”
“Don’t ever come in that way again.”
“Strick, I swear I won’t.”
“Good. Thanks. Otherwise, Hanse, good to see you and thanks for the information about this Nadeesh. We must get together and talk again. After hours, and normally.”
“Uh.” After a time Hanse said, “Damn! You just dismissed me, didn’t you?”
“I work days, Hanse. People are waiting.”
Hanse gazed at him, his mouth slowly widening. “Strick, you’re really something! Let’s go, Notable, you dam’ cat.”
On the way out he saw that Strick hadn’t exaggerated: two others sat in the downstairs waiting room. One had the look of a Rankan of sub- stance. Strick sure is doing well by doing good here, Hanse mused, and winked at the icily staring blue-uniformed man with the sword and dag- ger. Ex-palace guard, Hanse was sure. He recognized Wints, too, but pretended not to notice. A shaking sight, Wints decently dressed, shaved, and looking as if he knew who he was!
A few steps down the street called Straight, Notable pacing at his side, he saw still another woman with silver hair. Strick had started this craze? Damn, why? A man never knows whether a woman’s dyed, prematurely gray or extraordinarily well preserved!
Avenestra ushered in a well-dressed Rankan noble.
Strick swiftly learned that Noble Abadas was new in Sanctuary; he was cousin to Theron, the new emperor-by-his-own-hand. Noble Abadas was of medium height, perhaps ten pounds overweight, with receding light brown hair and reddish mustache, big ears, and stubby fingers. Superb eyes the color of doeskin met Strick’s directly, which was impressive. Abadas was just arrived from Ranke with his daughter and, unusually, a single servant. He wanted a good place to live, he said, and planned to staff with Ilsigi; locals-