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if me brain's not gone too feeble."
"Seven chips," Feercus argued.
"Five bought, pocket-picked, or taken from a dead man?"
"If bought, then what's the harm?" Feercus argued. "I'm not stealing from my brothers of Ship
Rethnor, nor killing them to take their chips!"
"So ye admit ye bought 'em?"
Feercus shook his head.
"Kensidan's not looking kindly on any black marketeering here, I'm telling ye for yer own sa-
ke."
"I offered to retrieve the goods for five others," Feercus explained. "Me sister and me, and
Darvus's family, with no living man to come and no child old enough to trust to do it."
"Ah, and what might ye be getting from Missus Darvus in exchange for yer helpfulness?" the
old codger asked.
Feercus flashed a lewd smile.
"More than that, if I'm knowin' Feercus-and I am," the old man said. "Ye're taking part o' the
bargain in flesh, I'm not doubting, but ye're getting a fill for yer pocket, too. How much?"
"Has Kensidan outlawed that as well?"
"Nay."
"Then& "
"How much?" the old man insisted. "And I'll be asking Darvus's widow, and I'm knowin' her
well, so ye best be tellin' me true."
Feercus glanced around again then sighed and admitted, "Four silver."
"Two for me," said the old man, holding out his hand. When Feercus didn't immediately hand
over the coins, he wagged his fingers impatiently. "Two, or ye're not eating."
With a grumbled curse under his breath, Feercus handed over the coins. The old man retreated
into the storehouse, and Feercus watched as he put seven small bags into a single sack, then re-
turned and handed them out the window.
Again Feercus glanced around.
"Someone follow ye here?" the old man asked.
Feercus shrugged. "Lots of eyes. Baram or Taerl's men, I expect, as they're not eating so well."
"Kensidan's got guards all about the Ship," the old man assured him. "Baram and Taerl wo-
uldn't dare to move against him, and Kurth's been paid off with food. Likely them eyes ye're see-
ing are the watching guards-and don't ye doubt that they'll not be friends o' Feercus, if Feercus is
stealing or murdering them who're under the protection of Kensidan!"
Feercus held up the sack. "For widow Darvus," he said, and slung it over his shoulder as he
started away. He hadn't gone more than a step when the window's shutter banged closed, sho-
wing no more than an unremarkable wall once more.
Gradually, Feercus managed to take his thoughts off the watching eyes he knew to be peering
out from every alley and window, and from many of the rooftops, as well. He thought of his car-
go, and liked the weight of it. Widow Darvus had promised him that she had some spices to take
the tanginess out of the curious meat Kensidan handed out to all under his protection-and many
more had come under his protection, swearing fealty to Ship Rethnor, throughout that cold and
threadbare winter. Between that and the strange, thick mushrooms, Feercus Oduuna expected a
wonderful meal that evening.
He promised himself that he wouldn't get too greedy and eat it all, and that his sister, all alone
in her house since her husband and two children had died in the explosion of the Hosttower, wo-
uld get more than her one-seventh share.
He glanced back once as he exited the alley, whispering his sincere thanks for the generosity
of High Captain Kensidan.
In another part of Luskan, not far from the road Feercus traveled, several men stood on a street
corner, a fire blazing between them over which they huddled for warmth. One man's stomach
growled from emptiness and another punched him in the shoulder for the painful reminder.
"Ah, keep it quiet," he said.
"And how am I to stop it?" the man with the grumbling belly replied. "The rat I ate last night
didn't go near to filling me, and I been throwin' up more of it than I put down!"
"All our bellies're grumbling," a third man said.
"Baram's got food coming out tonight, so he says," a fourth piped in hopefully.
"Won't be near enough," said the first, who punched the other's shoulder again. "Never near
enough. I ain't been so hungry in all my days, not even when out on the water, days and days in a
dead wind."
"A pity we're not for eating man flesh," the third said with a pathetic chuckle. "Lots o' fat bo-
dies out on Cutlass Island, eh?"
"A pity we're not working for Rethnor, ye mean," said the first, and the others all snapped
surprised glances his way. Such words could get a man killed in short order.
"Ain't even Rethnor-Rethnor's dead, so they're saying," said another.
"Aye, it's that boy o' his, the sneaky one they call the Crow," said the first. "He's gettin' food.
Not knowing how, but he's gettin' it and feedin' his boys well this winter. I'm thinking that Ba-
ram'd be smart to stop arguing with him and start gettin' us some of that food!"
"And I'm thinking ye're talkin'll of us dead in an alley," one of the others said in a tone that of-
fered no room for argument. As much a threat as a warning, the harsh comment ended the dis-
cussion abruptly and the group went back to rubbing their hands, saying nothing, but with their
bellies doing enough complaining to aptly relay their foul sentiments.
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