tried out on consignment, he complimented their creator.
“They loved them, Ivalia. Helped sell more beer, too! My customers loved those
special sausages of yours-and so did I!” Abruptly the big man laughed a big
man’s laugh. “Not my cat, though. Should’ve seen him wrinkle his nose and shake
his head when he started to settle into a nice sausage meal and smelled that
brine! Could’ve heard his ears rattle two buildings away!”
“Ohh, poor pussy cat,” Ivalia said, interrupting her delighted marking down of
his order to look up with a sympathetic expression. “What a mean shock for a cat
… well, here! You take this to that poor disappointed kitty of yours, Ahdio,
with my compliments.”
“Mighty nice of you, Ivalia,” Ahdio said, accepting the brown-wrapped package
she hurriedly prepared and proffered. It looked strangely smaller, once it was
transferred from her hand to his huge one.
Someone passing behind Ahdio bumped him. Ahdio showed no hint of taking offense
as his size would have allowed; he merely dropped a hand to the wallet at his
belt. It was still there. The bump must have been a genuine one, then-not that
it would have mattered much. He kept only three coppers, two sharply jagged bits
of rusty steel, and a few pebbles in that leathern bag. His money was in a
pocket-purse sewn inside the down-filled vest he wore in lieu of coat or winter
cloak. Still, he was not anxious to lose what he thought of as the Fool’s Purse
at his belt; he’d just have to raise a great fuss and try to chase down the
thief … and of course replace the thing with another cheap bag of goatskin.