Вилорп

→I shrug.

→"The argument. Even by our standards it didn't seem like time for drawing weapons."

→"What?"

→"That was strange," says Makri.

→Tanrose departs. I sit back down at my desk. I light a thazis stick and throw one to Makri. She catches it and places it between her lips. There's a few moments' silence.

→"I was going to ask you to look after the bar while I went to the fishmonger's. But I think I'll ask Dandelion instead. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

→Tanrose frowns.

→"He started it," she mutters.

→Makri puts her knife back in her boot and looks sulky.

→"You should both be ashamed of yourselves," says Tanrose. "What sort of way is this to behave?"

→"A private disagreement."

→I sheathe my sword, with dignity.

→"What's going on?"

→Makri brandishes her knife. I draw my sword. There's a knock on the inside door and Tanrose comes into the office. She looks aghast at my drawn sword and Makri's knife.

→"What if I don't?"

→Makri's eyes blaze. She wrenches a long knife out of her boot and steps towards me.

→"Tell me what she said."

→I put my hand to my sword and draw it a few inches from its scabbard.

→"She said if that fat Investigator comes back tell him he's a drunken oaf."

→Makri rises to her feet too.