to his acquaintances and, if he had any, his friends. Obviously he was enjoying
his role as well as the pay. Wints was quite willing to remain with her and
comply with any of her wishes.
On the day following she wore a still different guise, and changed her lodgings
yet again. Again, the inn was a good one. Having gained some knowledge of
bankers, she left money and jewels with a man she felt she could trust. He also
stabled her horses. She left with a receipt and a more secure feeling. That day,
again, she looked more for him she sought.
In mid-aftemoon on the fringe of the Bazaar, she saw him.
“Oh my,” she said, from behind her lower-face veil of scarlet (and above her
garish S’danzo garb, skirts and apron and blouse in seven colors and six hues),
“whoever is that big man who just ordered crockery from your neighbor, there?”
“Ah, m’girl, that’s Ahdio-Ahdiovizun, but it’s Ahdio he’s callt. Runs that hole,
back in the Maze-Sly’s Place, it’s callt. You know. Big, ain’t he!”
“Indeed,” the veiled lady said softly, and went away.
“Well, I can’t help that,” the very big man said to the dealer. “You just tell
Goatfoot what I said: When even my customers complain about his beer, it’s bad!
Thin as … well, if I find out he has a lot of cats over there, I’ll be mighty
suspicious about what he puts into his so-called prime ale!”
“That ain’t nice, Ahdio. You want good stuff, whyn’t you buy it then?”
“As you damned well know, Ak, I do. But not from Goatfoot! However, not all my
patrons can afford the premium brew, and not all of them know the difference,