Two hours later, 16 cattle were in Momzer’s pen and he stood with the widow Bissel before it. A small crowd had heard about the deal in the bar and had come to witness the sale. The widow looked like she had a bit of a headache and wasn’t too happy. “Did I say 4.5 migs? For these?”
Momzer gave her a wry smile. “You did indeed, Mistress, as these good folk witnessed in the pub. Shall we shake on it and make it official?”
Without joy, the widow reached out and took Momzer’s hand. A titter went through the crowd, and then a surprised gasp as a man in imperial robes made his way through the crowd. Momzer looked surprised.
“Minister Nosh,” the widow asked, “can you please pay the man.”
“Put out your hand,” the minister said. Momzer the Gonif complied. From his robes the minister took a small box, which he opened. Placing a jeweler’s loupe on his right eye, he proceeded to carefully pick something out of the box with a very fine pair of tweezers and place whatever it was on Momzer’s hand. “Payment in full.”