“Nadeesh,” Hanse murmured, and sighed. He nodded, gestured.
Strick told him a bit more. Reluctantly, Hanse named a price. Discon- certingly, Strick did not even bother to dicker. He rose, placed the ear- ring in Hanse’s hand, bade him grip it and try to visualize its mate, and laid hands on the best cat-thief in Sanctuary.
“Now. You will be able to find it, once you’re in its proximity. If it is in a container, bring it that way. This is important.”
Once more Hanse sighed. “A sorcerer! Gods, how I hate sorcery!”
Strick merely gazed at him.
The younger man rose. “It will be done, Strick,” Shadowspawn said casually, on his way out.
Strick surprised him with the standard benison on a thief: “May the night-dark cloak cover you and your actions this night,” Meanwhile the spellwright was thinking: How interesting. He keeps company with an ensorceled cat and wears a dagger that’s the product of sorcery. Hates it, hmm?
Hanse wandered his town, thinking and working to relax as he pre- ferred to do before an important reaching venture. He noted reconstruc- tion, a purse-cutting, the painting of various buildings, the large number of foreigners imported to handle the work. Occasionally he returned-or ignored-a startled greeting. He saw Beysib mingling with Ilsigi and Rankans. Near the marketplace he was surprised to see large dark eyes peeping at him; the girl he had thought of only as Mignue’s little sister. He pretended not to notice. Beard of Us’ Jileel! All grown up and seem- ingly smuggling watermelons-and still staring!