The mongoose blinks, bemused. "I am Anba." She racks her brain briefly, trying to recall the name Sajuuk, though alchemists and wizards are far beyond her ken. Dangerous foes and fickle allies, so the common rumor them.<br/><br/>Still, if this stranger speaks truth, this alchemist is less dangerous than he might have once been...Although being dead is no guarantor of safety from such types.<br/><br/>And that, from the sound of it, is precisely the fox-girl's problem.<br/><br/>"Servants, you say?" The ball of her thumb idly orbits the long, curved dagger on her hip, feeling the simple pattern chiseled into its bronze pommel as she considers.<br/><br/>"What manner of servants are they, that defend your master's home and see you as enemy? Surely<em>they</em>will have no cause to see Anba as a friend."<br/><br/>Anba isn't sure she likes the flavor of this. In truth, one who lived on the Street of Laughing Dolls would be liable to have a great deal of coin, but also to be well-protected. It was hardly a place where a Sump-dweller could walk the street by daylight without attracting the worst kind of attention.<br/><br/>Then, too, considering what manner of uncouth traps and unspeakable guards one who dabbled in strange arts might employ was reason enough to make the fur at the nape of the mongoose's neck bristle.<br/><br/>And as for the offer of brewing...Anba is somehow certain that this is no simple drink the strange fox speaks of. But that is, from the sound of it, a part of a second job, and all may become clearer once the soul of Sajuuk is lightened by some of the material burdens which might be holding him back from reincarnation.<br/><br/>Anba smiles thinly.<br/><br/>"How many ways into this house do you know?"