... against the rim of her wine cup and listens faintly amused as the riot continues outside. She wonders when the Vikings will notice there's no earthly use in flaming torches as there's nothing but sand and stone to set fire to; a few baskets, a few people, all easily replaced. She sighs, these Vikings and Celts, they do revert to type don't they! Perhaps we should have had Bar O's flat roof thatched to make them feel more at home, she muses, spread some rushes on the floor, a few shields round the walls.

Maat sways past, staggering under the weight of a bundle of mouldy forgotten furs. How brave of her to handle them! 'Just throw them out into the street Maat and put a flaming taper to them. They have entire colonies of tiny creatures living inside!'

She takes another sip of her persea wine and clicks her fingers at a passing slave. 'Take an amphora of our best Lower Laurel wine to Tobius in the hot tub with our compliments';
It wouldn't do to upset our more exclusive Roman guests. They can be awfully trickey to please and one never knows when they might feel the invasion urge coming on as well.

The noise tapers away outside and down the Kanopic Way towards the Royal Harbour... 'It'll take a miracle wrought by the gods for the foreigners to get their boats out of the dry dock,' Sem smirks. 'Especially as we've doubled the guards and burnt their oars. Tch tch tch - what will they do? What will they do!'

Ter Min At Ra silently places Hergers pouch of silver on the bar and pushes it towards me and I laugh with delight, lifting it to judge the weight. It disappears into the folds of my cloak. 'It's all there is it? Thanks mate! You must want that promotion really bad huh?'