“Are you tired of living, One-Thumb? Go back to your hidey-hole. Maybe she’s
there, maybe not. If not… easy come, easy go.”
Lastel’s face purpled; his words rode on a froth of spray so that Janni reached
for his dagger and Niko had to kick him.
“Your sister’s disappeared and you don’t care?”
“I let Cime snuggle up with you in your thieves’ shanty. If I had ‘cared,’ would
I have done that? And did I care, I would have to say to you that you aspire
beyond your station, with her. Stick to whoremistresses and street urchins, in
future. Or go talk to the Mageguild, or your gods if you have the ears of any.
Perhaps you can reclaim her for some well-bartered treachery or a block of
Garonne krrf. Meanwhile, you who are about to become ‘No-Thumbs,’ mark these
two-” He gestured to either side, to Niko and Janni. “They’ll be around to see
you in the next few days, and I caution you to treat them with the utmost
deference. They can be very temperamental. As for myself, I have had easier
days, and so am willing to estimate for you your chances of walking out of here
with all appendages yet attached and in working order, though your odds are
lessening with every breath I have to watch you take….” Tempus was rising as
he spoke. Lastel gave back, his flushed face paling visibly as Tempus
proposed a new repository for his prosthetic thumb, then retreated with
surprising alacrity toward the half-open door in which the tavern’s owner now
stood uncertainly, now disappeared.
But Lastel was not fast enough; Tempus had him by the throat. Holding him off