proper, he could tell the wind was westering; the earthy smell from the animal
pens had a slight advantage over the tanners’ vats of rotting urine. He even
sorted out the delicate cucumber fragrance of freshly butchered fish, like a
whisper in a jabbering crowd; not many snouts had such powers of discrimination.
As ever, he enjoyed the first few minutes within the city walls, before the reek
stunned even his nose to dullness.
Most of the stalls in the Farmer’s Market were shuttered now, but he was able to
trade two coppers for a fresh melon, which he peeled as he walked into the
bazaar, the krrf inconspicuous under his arm.
He haggled for a while with a coppersmith, new to the bazaar, for a brace of
lamps to replace the ones that had been stolen from the Unicorn last night. He
would send one of his urchins around to pick them up. He watched the acrobats
for a while, then went to the various wine merchants for bids on the next week’s
ordinaries. He ordered a hundredweight of salt meat, sliced into snacks, to be
delivered that night, and checked the guild hall of the mercenaries to find a
hall guard more sober than the one who had allowed the lamps to be stolen. Then
he went down to the Wideway and had an early dinner of raw fish and crab
fritters. Fortified, he entered the Maze.
As the eunuch had said, One-Thumb had nothing to fear from the regular denizens
of the Maze. Desperadoes who would disembowel children for sport (a sport sadly
declining since the introduction of a foolproof herbal abortifacient) tipped