‘I wasn’t stealing!’ the boy cried, wrenching himself free.
‘A Sanctuary street-rat who doesn’t steal?’ Jubal raised an eyebrow.
‘Of course I steal!’ the urchin spat. ‘Everyone does. But that’s not why I came
here.’
‘Then why did you come?’ Mor-Am demanded, cuffing the boy and sending him
sprawling. ‘To beg? To sell your body?’
‘I have a message!’ the boy bawled. ‘For Jubal!’
‘Enough, Mor-Am,’ Jubal ordered, suddenly interested. ‘Come here, boy.’
The urchin scrambled to his feet, pausing only to knuckle tears of anger from
his eyes. He shot a glare of pure venom at Mor-Am and Moria, then approached
Jubal.
‘What is your name, boy?’ Jubal prompted.
‘I – am called Mungo,’ the urchin stammered, suddenly shy. ‘Are you Jubal?’
‘I am,’ Jubal nodded. ‘Well, Mungo, where is this message you have for me?’
‘It… it’s not written down,’ Mungo explained, casting a hasty glance at Mor
Am. ‘I was to tell you the message.’
‘Very well, tell me,’ Jubal urged, growing impatient. ‘And also tell me who is
sending the message.’
‘The message is from Hakiem,’ the boy blurted. ‘He bids me tell you that he has
important information for sale.’
‘Hakiem?’ Jubal frowned.
The old storyteller! He had often been of service to Jubal when people forgot
that he could listen as well as talk.
‘Yes, Hakiem. He sells stories in the bazaar …’
‘I know, I know,’ Jubal snapped. For some reason, today everyone thought he knew
nothing of the people in town. ‘What information does he have for me, and why
didn’t he come himself?’
‘I don’t know what the information is. But it’s important. So important that