touch the much younger man. He certainly did not.
He said, ‘How do you feel about it?’
Hanse continued to gaze assiduously at something else. How could a child of the
desert with such long long lashes and that sensuous, almost pretty mouth look so
grim and thin-lipped? ‘I threw up.’
‘That proves you are human and is what you did. How do you feel about it?’
Hanse looked at him directly. After a time, he shrugged.
‘Yes,’ Tempus sighed, nodding. He drained his cup. Raised a right arm on high
and glanced in the general direction of the tap. The new nightman nodded. Though
he had not looked at the fellow, Tempus lowered his arm and looked at Hanse. ‘I
understand,’ he said.
‘Do you. A while ago I told the prince that it is a prince’s business to kill,
not a thief’s. Now I have killed.’
‘What a wonderful thing to say to a bit of royalty! I wish you weren’t so
serious right now, so I could laugh aloud. Do not expect any gentle words from
me about the kills, my friend. It happens. I didn’t ask for your help – or for
you to be waiting for me. You won’t do that again.’
‘Not that way, no.’ Hanse leaned back while whatever-his-name-was (they called
him ‘Two-Thumb’) set two newly-filled mugs between them. He did not take the
other two, or wait for payment. ‘I think things started when Bourne … died,
and you came to Thieves’ World.’
‘Thieves’ World?’
Again that almost-embarrassed shrug. ‘It’s what we call Sanctuary. Some of us.
Now the whole city’s in a mess and a turmoil and I think you have to do with
that.’
‘I believe you said that.’