Jean-Sal made a humming noise as he thought, listening to the music playing in the distance. "You've been in my room for about two hours, if that helps," he replied, calculating by thinking about his record, which was no longer playing. "And seeing how slow the music is getting, I guess it's past midnight." Soon they would wear themselves out and go to bed for the night. They all had an early morning tomorrow, setting up their stalls and wares inside the city's central square. It was the only time gypsies were allowed inside the city's walls. Any other time, they would be arrested. Apparently the rich folk thought of gypsies as baby snatchers and drug dealers. It made Jean-Sal a bit sad at the thought.

"Will you be at the markets tomorrow? I will be there playing my fiddle and selling my cider," he told Oliver with a smile. "The stuff you drunk. I made it myself, with the help of Goat." The older man who looked so much like a billy goat that everyone called him Goat.