A dockhand drops her crate of still-wriggling fish near the fishmonger's stall and leans in conspiratorially.
"Oy! I heard last night that young thing been nosing around the docks every night finally got what's coming to him. Got it on good authority he tried to bewitch old Nils, using a magic word." She spits at her feet to ward off... well, something. "Guards hauled him right off, along with a couple other foreigners - big one and the old one, s'what I heard. Good riddance! Maybe we can work in peace again without all those questions."