Sam, Queen of the Gutter Rats, felt a flicker of irritation toward Scat, though she knew he wasn’t to blame. She hadn’t warned him what the pharmacist might demand in trade. The man was unpredictable, sometimes picky, other times needlessly cruel. Scat, unaware of the risks, had laid everything he owned on the counter: every last coin and a battered old pocket watch, his hands trembling slightly as he hoped it would be enough.