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he asked. Oh, Durnik said, bending over the pit and striking at his flint with his steel, I think she's regained her composure a bit. His flint and steel made a subdued clicking sound with each click a shower of bright, lingering sparks spilled down into the pit.
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' 'No! The omens here grow bad. Three times you've tried and failed to get me what I require. I conclude my business with you.' The information broker survived by knowing when to cut his losses.
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It was your idea, wasn't it? Another nod. Not mine exclusively. Several other peo- ple thought of it, too. Years ago. But when you live long enough to be an old fart like me in this game, they give you credit for enormous wisdom, He laughed and reached for his beer again.