“You"re telling me this is the Golden Palace?” asked Fer.
“Only one you"re gonna find in this city,” said Johnny. “Come on, let"s eat.”
“But … won"t they expect payment for giving us food?”
“Sure.” He pulled a small, colourful card from a pocket. “But money, at least is not a problem. See? Still six months on the expiry.”
“That means?”
“That means we can eat. Come on.”
It was warm and bright inside the eating-house. By the door, a cooking area filled a corner of the room, giving off a powerful heat. Servings of colourful, spicy food sizzled in large, shallow dishes atop some sort of oven. Next to them stood a pair of deep, urn-shaped ovens. A man worked behind them, expertly twirling circles of dough in one hand, stretching them into huge discs before slapping them inside the ovens.
