Fifty coppers was the price of two days' hard labor, a painful sting to their pockets, but infinitely better than having their stalls confiscated by the city guards.
Nobody argued anymore. With pale faces and trembling fingers, the six neighbors frantically dug into their waist pouches and aprons, pulling out loose copper coins and knotted strings of cash. One by one, they hurried forward, keeping their heads bowed low and holding their breath against the stinging fumes as they dropped the heavy coins into a wooden bucket sitting just outside Heena's threshold.
The moment their coins hit the bottom of the bucket, they bolted down the street as if a pack of hungry wolves were snapping at their heels.
That left only Old Zhao.
