Max, for his part, was looking over his own shoulder toward the door, where the voice of a man had opened up, bellowing, “You! Hey, you!”
“What’s your problem?” Max yelled at him. “We’ve paid for our space, we’re just trying to have a pleasant lunch here.” Shaa had said the Bilious Gnome was the only half-decent place around that was halfway intact: he’d assured Max there would be no repercussions from any of his previous escapades.
“Maximillian -” Shaa said across the table. The man in the door was familiar to him. He was the bartender who’d been on duty the last time Shaa had been at the Bilious Gnome, when he and Jurtan Mont had been chased by the Guard. The man’s face was proceeding through shades of color heading toward purple. “YOU!” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Shaa from the end of his outstretched arm. “Get out of my place!”
“Are you the owner?” Shaa said.
“Don’t start nothing with me! I said out, and out you -”
“I happen to be rather comfortable at the moment,” Shaa said, “and somewhat debilitated to boot, and as such am reluctant to leave this” he indicated the mud underfoot and the temporary ladder leading to the second floor with a wave of his own hand “inspiring and tasteful establishment. If you must press the issue, let us discuss matters with the owner.”
The man who had served the party emerged from the back room, rubbing his hands on a gray towel. “What’s the excitement here, folks?”
“Are you the owner?” Shaa said.
“I’ll do for it.”
“You will do,” Shaa said, “if you are the owner.”
The man squinted at him. “Are you crazy? Nobody’s seen the owner in years. I just manage the place, hold part of the receipts back in case the guy shows up. I ain’t never seen him myself, you understand, but he’s the kind of guy you don’t want to cross, if you get my drift, they made that pretty darn clear when his man bought the place.”
“How would you recognize him if he does appear?” Shaa said slowly. Max looked over at him, examining his face, recognizing in his voice a certain note of growing suspicion.
“When he bought the Gnome a couple years ago he sent over this little crystal cube.”
A nonplussed look appeared on Shaa’s face, a once-in-several-years occurrence. “Bring the cube,” Shaa said.
The manager looked at him, opened his mouth, then closed it without a word and went out into the back room. A moment later he returned. In his hand was a small faded purple cloth tied at the top with a drawstring, He handed the bag to Shaa. Shaa loosened the string and inverted the bag over his hand, and a clear crystal cube about a thumb’s-length along each edge dropped into his palm. Shaa scrutinized the cube with a contemplative expression. Then he touched the ball of his thumb to a depression in its polished face.
Deep in the heart of the cube, a strong purple glow burst out.
“I’ll get your money,” said the manager, and stumped off again toward the back. Shaa removed his thumb from the cube, and the glow died. Everyone at the table, all of whom had been staring at the cube, shifted their gazes upward to the face of Shaa. Shaa tilted his head back and began to examine the ceiling.
“You have anything you’re interested in telling us?” Max said.
Shaa hrrumphed and cleared his throat. “Well, ah, you recall the period when I was Waterfront Health Inspector for Roosing Oolvaya? I, ah, invested some of my proceeds in local business. Actually, you see, I employed a fiscal advisor, and I was a bit behind on keeping track of things, ah, myself. Then, well, the post of Health Inspector moved abruptly to another, and I moved on, away from Roosing Oolvaya. In some haste.”
The manager was returning with a hefty iron-bound chest.
He dropped it with a heavy thud on the table in front of Shaa.
“My own place,” Shaa said to him, glancing sadly around the room at the broken windows, smashed staircase, holes in the walls, and fractured tables still left from his own earlier visit, and at the superimposed damage from the flood, “and in such a state. Friend Manager, you should make it a point to cultivate a better class of clientele in the future.”