Shafralain stared. “Expimilia’s tooth! You are telling me that the suddenly painful tooth my wife had to have drawn is an additional price she paid for your help?”
“Probably. It was not in front, I hope. Ah, good. Doesn’t show? Good. Has she any other recent complaint?” When the other man shook his head, Strick shrugged.
“The painful ab-cess was probably the Price, then. Not a terrible one. That is beyond my control. It might have been gentler, and it could have been worse.
Still, some people prefer the original problem to the Price.”
Shafralain sat studying him. “I am not sure I believe all you say, Strick. Easy to admit that I’d like to! White magic only, eh?”
Quietly and in an equable tone, staring, Strick said, “Snarl and sneer at street urchins. Noble Shafralain, but do not question me.”
Shafralain stiffened and his knuckles paled as he gripped the arms of the comfortable chair Strick provided for his visitors. Strick’s eyes never wavered from the nobleman’s stare. At last Shafralain’s hands and body loosened.
“Strick, my family existed in ancient Ilsig since before Ranke was. My family has been here since Us the All-seeing led my people out of the Queen’s Mountains and here to Sanctuary. The city of the children of Us has been beset by blood lusting Rankans and weavers of the darkest spells. For a time it seemed that the
All-father had turned our city over to His son, the Nameless One who is patron of shadows and thieves. For a time some of us thought we saw promise in the young prince whom the emperor-the murdered emperor, now- sent out from Ranke. He is no Ilsig, but damn it we thought he was a man. Now we have the sea people.