Faroah sure hadn't. But that's what he was seeing right now, taroch- and horse-drawn carts backed up down most of the main street and even the little side streets that joined up with it. Was the amethyst necklace he'd claimed really that valuable?
Of course it was! And it was his, all his.
“Naga, ine! Ine, ine, ine!” Except the large lady who originally owned the necklace he'd been poofing around was still attached, and still clinging, and still shrieking at him. It scared him! She wouldn't let go of his shiny! And her mate and half the street were all trying to swat him with rolled-up newspapers and boxes and brooms and things that would make Faroah-pancakes!
So he screamed as loud as his tiny lungs would let him. “INE!” Get off, get off, getoff! And poofed around some more in a vain effort to shake her off. “INE!”