“Fellow stopped by and told me that hiring a young red-haired fellow would make for a great pile of unpleasantness.” He nodded at my lute. “You must be him.” “Well then,” I said, adjusting the shoulder strap of my lute case. “I won’t waste your time.” “You aren’t wasting it yet,” he said as he climbed down the ladder, wiping his hands on his shirt. “The place could use some music.” I gave him a searching look. “Aren’t you worried?” He spat. “Damn little gadflies think they can buy the sun out the sky, don’t they?”
