About every other deity imaginable was represented here, though, including a little chapel to Theba.
The foreigner nodded. The death goddess was of no interest to Strick of Firaqa.
He took the Street of Goldsmiths down to the Path of Money, noting among the well-off citizenry more decollete dresses too busy below the waist. He found the moneyhandler Cusharlain had recommended.
They held a bit of converse, during which both men learned this and that of interest to each. Then, in private, Strick opened the dirty-sheet bag to reveal its other contents, carefully pressed together and snugly wrapped to prevent their clinking.
The banker was delighted to make the acquaintance of Torezalan Strick tiFiraqa and his foreign gold.
Strick left in possession of several documents and carrying the bag that now held only dirty laundry. Two doors down and across that showily clean street, he entered the establishment of the second moneyhandler Cusharlain had mentioned.
While that individual might have been uninterested in a foreigner with so little taste as to carry his soiled clothing along the street called Money, he was experienced enough to know that eccentric people came to him with treasures in eccentric disguises. He acceded to a private interview and was rewarded.
From his underwear the foreigner in the strange skullcap took a small felt bag.
It did not jingle, but it did contain two gleaming examples of the largesse of
Firaqa’s Pearl River. They were worth over twenty horses, or much gold.
Strick departed with several more documents, less weighty underclothing, and carrying the bag that now held only dirty laundry.