Sham
saw the old halls his crewmates said were the guildbuildings of spies &
ne’er-do-wells, where rumourmarkets were held.
“A
few coppers’ll get you a questionable assertion from someone drunk & past
it.” So Fremlo said. “A handful of dollars, something said with a
straight face by one whose information has panned out more than once in the
past. More than that, you’re into the
realm of the tempting secret.
“You won’t get it from the source, I mean. The rumour-mongers sell them on.” They’d vouch for none of them, of course –
that was the point.
(from Railsea by
China Miéville)
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