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get used to the laws of our glorious Ranneng!”
    A sharp nose, blue eyes, light brown hair, about my own age. He had an open, slightly roguish smile and was dressed like a prosperous townsman—probably that was why the sergeant answered him instead of sending him packing.
    “They’re disturbing the peace and insulting the keepers of public order,” said the sergeant, with a hostile glance at the Garrakian.
    “Of course, of course,” the man whispered sympathetically, carefully taking the sergeant by the elbow and leading him off to one side. “But you understand, they’re from the country, and my friends were never taught good manners. This is their first time in the city. And that thin one over there is my aunt’s nephew, so he’s a relative of mine,” the man said, jabbing his finger in my direction.
    “What’s that goon doing?” Hallas asked in amazement.
    “Dragging us out of the shithole that you dug for us,” Deler explained to the gnome.
    Hallas had enough wits not to start another argument.
    “I was supposed to make sure they didn’t get into any trouble,” the man explained to the soldier. “Put yourself in my place, sergeant! If anything happens my aunt will tear my head off and she won’t let me back into the house!”
    A silver coin passed from the stranger’s hand into the hand of the commander of the guard.
    “Well…,” the sergeant said hesitantly. “We still have to perform our duty and carry out our responsibilities.”
    Another coin changed owners.
    “Although,” said the guardsman, starting to soften a bit, “following a brief reprimand I could quite well release your … mmm … respected relatives.”
    A third silver piece disappeared into his grasping fingers.
    “Yes!” said the sergeant with a resolute nod. “I think the Ranneng guard can find more important business to deal with than punishing innocent passersby who haven’t quite settled into the city yet. All the best to you, dear sir!”
    “All the best.”
    “Let’s go, lads,” the sergeant said to his soldiers, and the guard immediately lost all interest in us and disappeared into the crowd.
    The idle onlookers realized that the show was over and busied themselves with other matters. The market started buzzing again and no one paid any more attention to us.
    The man came up to us, smiled, looked into my eyes, and said: “Hello, Harold!”
    The only thing I could do was reply: “Hello, Bass.”
    *   *   *
     
    “Hello, Harold.”
    “Hello, Bass,” I answered lazily, half opening one eye.
    “Still asleep?” my friend asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m hungry,” said Bass, slapping himself on the stomach.
    “So why tell me?”
    “Well, you’re my friend!”
    “Sure as daylight, I’m your friend. But it’s time you learned to earn your food some other way than playing potbellied small fry at dice and cards!”
    “Ah!” Bass sighed in disappointment and sat down on the edge of the straw mattress. “Just because you’re twelve and I’m only eleven, it doesn’t mean that you’re cleverer than me.”
    “Well, if that’s not so, why are you nagging me about food?” I chuckled.
    “There’s a job.”
    “Well?” I stopped studying the ceiling and sat up.
    “This man won a lot of money from Kra at dice…”
    “How did you get in there?” I asked in surprise.
    They didn’t like to let us into the gambling den. Kra didn’t make any profits out of juvenile pickpockets like us. We just got under everyone’s feet and cleaned out the decent customers.
    “I managed it,” said Bass, screwing up his blue eyes cunningly.
    Bass had earned his nickname of Snoop. He could get in anywhere at all—it was another matter that my friend quite often got in trouble for these escapades of his.
    “Well, what about this man?”
    “Ah! Well, basically, he was playing Kra at dice and he won three gold pieces!”
    I whistled enviously. Only once had I ever managed to fish a gold piece out of someone’s