The bear-sized man with the barrel belly greeted Hanse heartily and with surprise. “Why haven’t I seen you for so long, Hanse? Must be a year or more.”
Cholly was alone in his smelly, cluttered place of business, meaning that his two assistants were out on this errand or that. Taking orders for delivering glue, probably, or the ancillary products of Cholly’s trade. Selling jewelry, perhaps, or slightly used clothing. A bone or two, maybe. Or nice long hair, perhaps, to make nice wigs.
Briefly and without much patience, Hanse told Cholly where he had been.
“I had no idea, Hanse’ Oh-I guess you left before that sexy Rankan gladiator came to town, didn’t you?”
“How can a gladiator be s- oh. You mean Chenaya Nutcracker? We, uh, met, Cholly.”
“Oh? Surprised you don’t grin when you say that, Shadowspawn. Surely Milady Swagger either insulted you, tried to kill you, or bedded you. Or all three.”
Hanse clamped his teeth. “She bedded me, Cholly. That’s the way it was, too-she collected me. took me home, and bedded me. She’s good- looking and she’s cat-supple, I’ll give her that. Bed is another matter. I didn’t enjoy it with her and we will not be doing it again. I prefer women.”
Cholly saw the expression and heard the tone. Considerately and wisely, he nodded and said nothing at all. Then his visitor laid the wounded knife on his counter and the huge man shifted to his business demeanor. He picked it up in a big meaty hand, examined it, said “hmm” twice, and shrugged.
“Easily fixed, Hanse. Let’s just make repairing this a welcome-home gift,” Cholly said, already starting to work. “We’ll use dry-tack. It’s a special sort of glue I made up; sticks by pressure.” He grunted softly; a man the size of Chollander the Gluemaker seldom found tasks large enough to require large grunts. “There. Now we apply the dry-tack wet, so, and allow it to dry. We don’t have to wait long. I remember this old knife from years back. A really superior blade! Oh-you, ah, pick up any new knives up in Furakka?”