embroidered day-robes as was her custom but wore a Soberly cut dress of a
fashion outdated in Sanctuary at least twenty years before. She had taken off
her jewellery, knowing that its absence would cause more rumours than if she had
indeed sold a part of it to the gem-cutters. An atmosphere of austerity
enveloped the house and every other on the Street, as Mikkun could attest, for
he’d visited most of them.
‘But madame, I have already slaughtered two cows! For three years I have
slaughtered the cows first to assure you the freshest meat early in the day.
Today, for no reason, you say you do not want my meat! Madame, you already have
a debt to me for those two cows!’
‘Mikkun! You have never, in all the years I’ve known you, extended credit to any
house on the Street and now … now you’re asking me to consider my daily
purchases a debt to you!’ She smiled disarmingly to calm him, knowing full well
that the butcher and the others depended on the hard gold from the Street to pay
their own debts.
‘There will be credit in the future!’
‘But we will not be here to use it!’ “
Myrtis let her face take on a mournful pout. Let the butcher and his friends
start dunning the ‘respectable’ side of Sanctuary, and word would spread quickly
to the palace that something was amiss. A ‘something’ which she would explain to
the Hell Hound captain, Zaibar, when he arrived to collect the tax. The trades
man left her parlour muttering prophecies of doom she hoped would eventually be
heard by those in a position to worry about them.