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down the hall and Nakor said, “I’m hungry.”
    â€œYou’re always hungry, man,” said Jadow with a laugh. “My head is still reminding me that I was not wise last night. My stomach hasn’t forgiven me either.” Then he paused, and added, “But I might do with a bite to eat, after all that.”
    Erik laughed. “I’m hungry, too.”
    â€œThen let us find an inn—” said Nakor.
    â€œA quiet inn,” Roo interjected.
    â€œâ€”a quiet inn,” continued Nakor, “and eat.”
    â€œThen what, Master?” asked Sho Pi.
    Nakor grimaced, but said only, “Then we go to the Sign of the White Wing, boy.” He shook his head. Pointing to Sho Pi, he said to the others, “This one has much to learn.”
    The Sign of the White Wing was nothing like what Roo expected. Then he considered he really hadn’t known what to expect. He had trafficked with whores before, but that had been on the line of march, with camp followers who would tumble aman beside to his comrades and be off to the next as soon as he could count out her pay.
    But this was a different world. The five slightly inebriated men had had to ask several times to find their way. After a few failed attempts, they finally discovered a modest building near the edge of the Merchants’ Quarter. The sign out front had been almost impossible to make out, being little more than a simple metal wing painted white, unlike the more boldly painted large ones marking more traditional trades.
    The door had been opened by a servant who admitted the five without a word, indicating they should wait in a tiny anteroom, without furnishing of any sort, only decorated by some nondescript tapestries that hung on the two side walls. Opposite the entrance stood another door, of simple painted wood. When it opened, a well-dressed if somewhat matronly woman had stepped through.
    â€œYes?” she had asked.
    The men glanced at one another, and it was Nakor who had at last answered. “We were told to come here.”
    â€œBy whom?” she then asked, looking somewhat unconvinced.
    â€œRobert de Loungville,” said Erik softly, as if afraid to raise his voice.
    Instantly the woman’s features had transformed themselves from dubious to joyful. “Bobby de Loungville! By the gods, if you’re friends of Bobby’s, you’re welcome here.”
    She then clapped her hands once and the door she had slipped through opened wide, revealing a short entryway occupied by two large armed guards. Asthey stepped aside, Roo thought it clear they had been standing by to ensure the safety of the woman.
    â€œI’m Jamila, your hostess, and here,” she said, reaching another door, which she pulled wide, “we enter the House of the White Wing.”
    The five men gaped. Even Nakor, who had seen riches in the court of the Empress of Great Kesh, stood in stunned awe. The room wasn’t that opulent; far from it. In fact it was the lack of gaudy displays of wealth that made the setting so impressive. Everything about the room was subtle and tasteful, though Roo would have been hard put to say what made it seem so. Chairs and divans were placed around the room so that those inside would be within sight of one another, yet there was a clear sense of each area being apart from the others. This was made abundantly clear by the fact of a wealthy-looking man sprawling upon one divan, sipping wine from a goblet while two lovely young women attended him. One sat upon the floor, allowing him to caress her shoulders and neck, while the other hovered over him, offering him sweetmeats from a gilded tray.
    As if by magic, girls appeared through several curtains. All were modestly dressed, like the two attending the man already in the room, wearing loose-fitting gowns of light material. That they were covered from neck to ankle did nothing to hide the curves of their bodies as they moved to greet their