At the mention of selling, the glowing sphere jerks alert, and floats quickly behind Cang’s back, away from Shyan.
“The light thinks you’re gonna sell it,” Fassn says, chuckling.
“Do you suppose we could?” Cang asks. He turns left and right to get a look at the thing, but it bobs and weaves effortlessly, keeping glimpses brief. “How much would you fetch, you cretin?” he asks.
“If it’s half as much as that necklace, we’re doing it,” Shyan says.
“But what fence would take it?” Fassn asks. “In fact, who’d take the necklace? Sure looks like it came from the neck of royalty.”
Abia stands. “We should leave. They come.”