“He’s never gonna know who we are,” Fassn says, holding aloft a chunk of apple in his palm. The flowing sphere buzzes by, nearly alighting upon it as a honeybee, but it keeps circling.
“This is true, Shyan,” says Cang. “We could walk right out of this city with our pockets full and nails trimmed, with Montague none the wiser.”
“You expect to just wander out of town once we get paid? Your purse full of coin, and you’ll pass a tavern by without spending a penny?”
Fassn looks quite nervous at the prospect.
Cang shrugs, caught. “It is no wonder you are our fearless leader, brave and true,” he says. “I shall indeed enjoy a tipple once all this business is concluded.”
With that, the sun dips below the horizon. The river’s now just a black streak through the city. The gang packs their meagre belongings and heads for the tavern to meet the musicians.