Exposition!
Michael’s ‘place’ was a warehouse, currently full of traders, busily packing. They were almost finished, in fact. That alone would have been good news for Gregor; the trade caravans were a profitable way to travel, for a man like him.
What worried him was how they all just assumed he was coming along for the ride. Apparently this ‘Scary Robb’ was nobody to mess with. “He’s been snapping up all the other gangs in Camiron,” the sewer told him as she fixed the cut in his robe. “They say he started right after the priests cut each other to ribbons. Now he’s got the whole gray market in his pockets.”
“A problem for the traders, then?” Gregor asked as he watched the young lady work. She made as tight a stitch on his silk as she had made on his shoulder, earlier, and had even had a little magic to make it not hurt so much. “Too many rules, Seamstress?” You didn’t ask a mage to give her name.