goat’s blood and, beside, cheese and barley and nuts for men who needed possets
in the morning to brace them for hard work to come.
These days, in Sanctuary, the meres were eating better -a function, Niko
determined from the talk around him as he filled a bowl, of their new regard and
esteem in a town coming apart at its seams, a town where personal protection was
a commodity at an all-time high. There was lamb on the sideboard this morning, a
whole pig with an apple in its mouth, and fish stuffed with savory. It hadn’t
been this way when last Niko’d worked here-then the meres were tolerated, but
not sent goodies from the Palace and from the fisherfolk or from the merchants.
It hadn’t been this way, before…. He ate his fill and got his brief from the
dispatching agent, who sketched a map of faction lines which divided up the
town.
“Look here. Stealth, I’ll only tell you once,” the dispatching agent said
intently. “The Green Line runs along Palace Park; above it are your patrons-the
Palace types, the merchant class, and the Beysibs … don’t tell me what you
think of that. The Maze’s surrounded by Jubal’s Blue Line; you’ll need this pass
to get in there.” The dispatcher, who’d lost one eye before Niko had ever set
foot in Sanctuary, pulled an armband from his hip pocket and handed it to Niko.
The band was sewn from parallel strips of colored cloth: green, red, black,
blue, and yellow. Niko fingered it, said, “Fine, just don’t call me Stealth in
here-or anywhere. I need to sniff around before I make my presence known,” and