Han only knew this because he’d sold goods to Taz in the past. He didn’t always get the best price from Taz, but he liked dealing with him because he had a permanent location, unlike many of the fences who worked the streets. Taz knew the Raggers could always find him again if he cheated them. He also had connections with rich clients who could pay big money for a rare piece. Taz had another, more prestigious location in the castle close, frequented by the gentry, including wizards.

The bell over the door jangled as Han entered the shop. Taz was sitting in the back, his bald head bent over his books. Without looking up he growled, “Not open yet. Come back later.”

“If you want,” Han said. “But it’s your loss. I’ll see who else is ready to do business.”

Taz looked up, startled. “Cuffs? Blood of the demon!” He lurched to his feet with amazing speed for one so bulky. The dealer glanced out the front windows and then jerked his head toward the back. “Let’s go in the back room.”

Han followed him back, past bins of beads and shelves lined with bottles of potions larded with time-darkened wax. Rolled-up rugs in brilliant colors stood in the corners, and intricate puzzle boxes, sconces, and candles lay everywhere.

Once through the back door, Taz took refuge behind the large desk that Han knew housed at least three knives and an assassin’s dagger. The dealer wore a long velvet coat and a froth of lace at his neck. His belly poured over his breeches, poking out through his coat. Here was someone who was eating well.

“I hear you’re dead,” Taz said bluntly.

Han nodded, assuming a mournful expression. “Got done in by the Southies,” he said. “I sort of like being dead.”

Taz laughed his great booming laugh that made you think he wasn’t as smart as he really was. “Understood, my boy. To what can I attribute this extracorporeal apparition?”

Taz liked to use big words.

“I’ve an amulet you might be interested in,” Han said.

“Thought you were out of the game,” Taz said, his eyes narrowing.

Han shrugged. “I am. Special case. I’m vamping it for a friend.”

“Ah. A friend. Of course.” Taz’s eyes lighted with interest. He’d bought some rare pieces from Han in the past.

“It’ll be pricy,” Han warned. “I won’t let it go for a smile and a promise. If you’re short on iron, just say so.”

“Have no worries on that account,” Taz said, trying to look disinterested. “However, you should know that, given the idiosyncrasies of the current market, I may not be in a position to make a very generous offer. Unfortunately, I’ve seen less demand for magical objects in recent months.”