“To protect our interests, you might say. Meaning the little man.” Ymor wrinkled his brows. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I heard you say the Guild of Merchants?” “And traders,” agreed Rerpf. Behind him now, in addition to more trolls, were several humans that Ymor vaguely recognized. He had seen them, maybe, behind counters and bars. Shadowy figures, usually—easily ignored, easily forgotten. At the back of his mind a bad feeling began to grow. He thought about how it might be to be, say, a fox confronted with an angry sheep. A sheep, moreover, that could afford to employ wolves.
