Took me a second to catch it and to see where the idea had come from. The guy in the tavern, whining about his debts. "Good thinking." A man in the snares of a moneylender would do anything to wriggle away. "This is Krage's territory. He's one of the nastiest. Let's drop in." No fear in the man. His confidence in the power of his office was so strong he dared walk into a den of cutthroats without blinking an eye. I faked it good, but I was scared. The villain had his own army, and it was jumpy.

We found out why in a moment. Our man had come up on the short end of somebody in the last couple days. He was down on his back, mummified in bandages. Bullock chuckled. "Customers getting frisky, Krage? Or did one of your boys try to promote himself?" Krage eyed us from a face of stone. "I help you with something, Inquisitor?" "Probably not. You'd lie to me if the truth would save your soul, you bloodsucker." "Flattery will get you nowhere. What do you want, you parasite?"

Tough boy, this Krage. Struck from the same mold as Bullock, but he had drifted into a socially less honored profession. Not much to choose between them, I thought. Priest and moneylender. And that was what Krage was saying. "Cute. I'm looking for a guy." "No shit." "He's got a lot of old money. Cajian period coinage." "Am I supposed to know him?" Bullock shrugged. "Maybe he owes somebody." "Money's got no provenance down here, Bullock." Bullock told me: "A proverb of the Buskin." He faced Krage. "This money does. This money better, let's say. This is a big one, Krage. Not a little let's-look-around-and-make-a-show. Not some bump-and-run. We're going the route. Anybody covers on it, they go down with this boy. You remember Bullock said it."

For a second Bullock made an impression. The message got through. Then Krage blank-faced us again. "You're sniffing up the wrong tree, Inquisitor." "Just telling you so you'd know." "What did this guy do?" "Hit somebody who don't take hitting." Krage's eyebrows rose. He looked puzzled. He could think of no one who fit that description. "Who?"

"Uhn-uh. Just don't let your boys take any old money without you checking the source and getting back to me. Hear?"

"Said your piece, Inquisitor?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't you better be going, then?"

We went. I didn't know the rules of the game, so didn't know how the locals would score the exchange. I rated it too close to call. Outside, I asked, "Would he have told us if he'd been paid in old coin?" "No. Not until he looked into it, at least. But he hasn't seen any old money." I wondered why he thought that. I didn't ask. These were his people. "He might know something. Thought I saw a glint in his eye a couple times." "Maybe. Maybe not. Let him stew."

"Maybe if you'd told him why. . . ."