“Plot?”
Raven asks, as the man scurries away quickly.
“The
drug of choice among the more well-to-do manifestations,” the guide
replies. “Come now, it's not far to the slums.”
“Narcotics?
In the Weave?”
“You
know how it goes,” the guide tells him, “If it's out there in the
Warp...”
“Mountain
save us!”
They
continue walking through the market, in silence for a while, passing
stalls offering adventure or romance or, to Raven, the sky knows
what. Something is bothering him, something he can't quite put his
finger on.
“Tell
me,” he asks the guide after a time, “What passes for currency in
the market?”
“Why
stories, of course,” comes the reply.
