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Instead of answering, Talsu just kept walking. If he'd said no, the vendor would have done his best to turn it into an argument, hoping to entice him to buy the news sheet that way. But silence gave the fellow nothing to grip. He glared at Talsu. Talsu ignored that, too.

As soon as he turned a corner, though, he cursed under his breath. The vendor had made him fall away from the ley line his thought had been following. Whatever the answer he'd sought, he wouldn't find it right away.

FINE SILVERSMITHING BY KUGU, a shopfront sign said, and then below, in smaller letters, JEWELRY MADE AND REPAIRED. CUSTOM FLATWARE. POTS amp; BOWLS OUR SPECIALTY. The shop was closed.

"Pest-holes and betrayals, our specialty," Talsu muttered under his breath. He wanted to let his face show exactly what he thought of the silversmith. But he couldn't even do that, because he was meeting Kugu for supper at an eatery that should be… He brightened. "There it is." He'd walked past the Dragon Inn any number of times. He'd never gone inside, not till now. It came as close to being a fine eatery as any place Skrunda boasted.

His nostrils twitched at the smell of roasting meat as he opened the door. He didn't suppose the inn cooked with a real dragon: stoves and grills surely gave better- to say nothing of safer- results. But food and flame did come together here. His belly rumbled. He didn't eat much meat back home.

As if by sorcery, a waiter appeared at his elbow. "May I help you, sir?" The tone was polite but wary. He got the feeling he'd be out on the street in a hurry if the fellow didn't like his answer.

But the waiter relaxed when he said, "I'm dining with Master Kugu."

"Ah. Of course. Come with me, then, if you'd be so kind. The gentleman is waiting for you." The waiter led him to a booth in the back where Kugu did indeed sit waiting. With a bow, the fellow said, "Enjoy your meal, sir," and vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared.

Kugu rose and clasped Talsu's hand. "Good of you to join me," he murmured. "Let me pour you some wine." He did, then raised his goblet in salute. "Your very good health."

"Thanks. And yours." With straight-faced hypocrisy, Talsu drank. His eyebrows rose. He didn't get to enjoy wine like this at home: a full-bodied vintage, with just a touch of lime to give it the tartness Jelgavans craved. He thought he could get tiddly on the bouquet alone.

"Order whatever suits your fancy: it's my pleasure," Kugu said. "The leg of mutton is very fine, if you care for it. They don't stint the garlic."

"That sounds good," Talsu agreed, and he did choose it when the waiter came back with an inquiring look on his face. So did Kugu. Talsu had all he could do not to gape like a fool when his supper arrived. Aye, that much meat could have fed his father and mother and sister and wife- and him to boot- for a couple of days, or so he thought. It was tender as lamb but far more flavorful; it seemed to melt off the bone. In an amazingly short time, nothing but that bone remained on the plate.