hated Roxane and her lot. That they had in common. “A few of the Band’s here,”
Straton said. “Say that-we’ve funded this and that in the streets. Same as you.
And we want that street to stay open. You want any more funds. Vis, you better
think again. I don’t know what She’s up to; and I sure as hell won’t hand it out
if I find out. But my lads have steered yours clean so far and none of mine have
cut your throats. This Jubal’s doing? That who’s behind this? Is he running your
lot? Or is it Walegrin?”
“Oh, we’re still bought,” Vis said, and the knife eased off. “On all the usual
sides. If I was a fool I’d pay you a personal debt right now; but you aren’t
marked and I’m not a fool.” Another of Vis’s wolf-grins. “You don’t promise and
you don’t make threats. You just want out of here with as little said as
possible. On my side I’ve been helpful. In spite of some things. I’m telling you
now- won’t charge you a thing. Something’s coming. Debts are being called in. In
the Downwind. Moruth’s lot. You understand me.”
Moruth. Beggar-king. The hawkmasks’ old nemesis. Straton looked at Vis and his
pseudo-Ilsigi company and added it up again-Vis willing to risk his Rankan
income and Vis running information against Moruth and his beggars. It added up
to Jubal. For certain it did. Straton let go a slow breath. “Tell Jubal I’m on
it. I’ll find out. But I don’t run his errands.”
“You’re too smart, Whoreson.”
“You’re too rash, bastard. So’s Jubal if he thinks he’s bought out you and these
dogs of yours. How many others in the town? Coming in with the trade, are you?”