‘I think not. He’ll absorb a foot or so of sharp metal long before. Or dance on
the air.’
‘As, I remind you, Cudget did,’ Cusharlain said, noting that within the trade no
one said ‘hanged’.
Shive took umbrage. ‘After a long career! And Cudget was respected! He’s
respected still.’
‘Umm. Pity you admire the master but not the apprentice. He could use you,
surely. And you him. If he’s a successful thief, there’ll be profit for the
fence he chooses to -‘ \
‘Fence? Fence?’
‘Sorry, Shive. The Changer he chooses to exchange his… goods with, for Rankan
coin. There’s always a profit to -‘
‘He cheated me!’
So. At last Shive admitted it. That’s how he’d been bitten by this Hanse. Fat
and fifty and the second most experienced Changer in Sanctuary, Shive had been
cheated by a cocky youngster. ‘Oh,’ Cusharlain said. He rose, showing Shive a
satirical little smile. ‘You know, Shive … you shouldn’t admit that. You are
after all a man with some twenty years’ experience … and he has only that many
years of life, if not less.’
Shive stared after the customs inspector. An Aurveshan raised in Sanctuary and
now employed by their mutual conqueror, Ranke. As well as by an informal league
of Changers and Sanctuary’s foremost thieves; those so successful they employed
other thieves. With a distinct curl of his lip – a cultivated artificial
manoeuvre – and a brush of his double-curled left moustachio, Shive returned his
attention to the prying of a nice ruby from its entirely too recognizable
setting.
Just now Cusharlain’s prowling the Maze was in service of still another