Thus Pzerra's company as he walked through his South Bank neighborhood as it echoed with the sound of the Spice Market, the air perfumed with the head... aroma of fennel and cinnamon and rosemary and cumin and scores of other substances that gave the market its name. Merchants in rich robes called out imploringly to passersby, describing the quality and benefits of their wares or denigrating their neighbors'. The old man loved the market. Its vibrancy. Its smells. Its potential.Pzerraji had made. She was tired from the danceand the bells hanging from her nipple rings jingled as she regained her breath.The man turned, ignoring the woman, and addressed his seated companion. "How much did he steal?" "The same amount as the last time you asked me, Malik" "Fuck, fuck I trusted that asshole, isn't anyone honest these days?" His companion sat up and stared lustily at the kneeling woman, she blushedand stared at the floor to avoid his gaze. "I hate accountants, I gave him everything, good. More

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