checked in, but I had failed to really notice or comment on
them. Today, however, they caught my attention, if for no
other reason than their contrast to the hustlers who populated
the same area at night.
The night hustlers were an intense, predatory lot who
seemed willing to trade for some of your money only if they
felt like they couldn’t simply knock you down and take it
all directly. The day people, on the other hand, seemed to
be more like low-budget retailers who stood quietly behind
their makeshift briefcase stands or blankets and smiled or
made their pitches to any passersby who chanced to pause
to look at their displays. If anything, their manner was
furtive rather than sinister, and they kept glancing up and
down the street as if they were afraid of being observed at
their trade.
“I wonder what they’re watching for?” I said, almost to
myself. I say almost because I forgot for the moment that
Kalvin was hovering within easy hearing.
“Who? Them? They’re probably watching for the
police.”
“The police? Why?”
86 Robert Asprin
“For the usual reason … what they’re doing is illegal.”
“It is?”
I had no desire to have another run-in with the police,
but I was genuinely puzzled. Maybe I was missing some-
thing, but I couldn’t see anything untoward about the street
vendors’ activities.
“I keep forgetting. You’re from the Bazaar at Deva,”
the Djin laughed. “You see, Skeeve, unlike the Bazaar,
most places require a license to be a street vendor. From
the look of them, these poor souls can’t afford one. If they