Reblogged from Jim Webster, aka Tallis Steelyard:

We were discussing fundraising for the shrine and the meeting, under the stern eye of a lesser canon, made little useful headway. Eventually we all made our excuses and decamped to a quiet bar before we made our various ways home. One of our number, Paps Murgaton, who had been a usurer before becoming a minor cleric, purchased two bottles of wine.

Half way down the first glass I turned to Paps. “Come on, Paps. Surely somebody with your connections should be able to raise some money for us?”

He put down his glass and took his pipe out, purely to fiddle with it to gain time for thought. “I know somebody who used to be able to raise money, nobody better.”
“Who’s that, I enquired, intrigued.”
“Maljie.”
There was silence round the table, and the old man got his pipe going, the lichen in it glowing nicely. As he seemed happy to stare thoughtfully into the past I asked, “Maljie?”
“Yes, Maljie.”
Eventually I lost patience. “I assume there’s a story here, Paps.”

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