always do.”
“I don’t always do that.”
“Yes, you do. You go into every situation with your sword up, whether or not you actually need it. The problem with that is, it usually just forces other people’s hands and they take out their sword when they might not otherwise.”
“And why not? It saves time. All my life, Torin, I’ve had to deal with people who think I’m an abomination at best. When I left Sorlin, I discovered just how rare it was for someone of my particular parentage to live beyond the age of one day. I came here—”
“You came here because Cliff’s End isn’t like that,” Torin said. “I know all this already.”
Danthres let out a long breath. “Then you should also know why I won’t put up with shit from people like Rommett.”
“What I know, Danthres, is that you’ve been living here for a decade. Isn’t it time you lowered your sword at least once to someone other than me?”
“My way is safer.”
“You’re about to lose your job, Danthres. How is that ‘safer’?”
Danthres snarled. “Better that than to turn into a smiling, naïve idiot like—” She cut herself off.
Torin walked over to her and looked her straight in the eye. “Like me? I thought you knew me better than that.”
She stared into his eyes for several seconds before looking away. Torin was grateful to see that she at least had the good graces to look abashed. “You’re a good man, Torin ban Wyvald,” she said, “and remarkably good-natured for someone who’s lived the life you’ve lived. But sometimes I think you’re still too much the philosopher and not enough the soldier.” Again, she faced him. “I wish I could live as you do, Torin, truly I do, but the world isn’t populated by people like you, or even Osric. There are many more Rommetts and Grovises and Nultis and Manfreds.”
Torin frowned. “Manfred?”
She shook her head. “That one at the Chain last night who thought I was ‘exotic.’ ”
“Oh, him.” Torin grinned. “Well, he’s right, you are exotic. And I think I know that particular guard—he’s one of the good ones. He’s working Unicorn, and if he’s the one I’m thinking of, Arron’s grooming him for a promotion. Has the makings of a detective.”
“Great. He can be your new partner, then. You’ll get more respect from everyone else now that you’re not partnered up with the ugly bitch.”
Torin shook his head. “Funny. You’ve always told me that you don’t give a damn about anything but justice, and seeing the right thing done.”
“Exactly. There’s no ‘right’ in whining for an apology to an aristocratic—”
“What about Gan Brightblade? And Olthar lothSirhans?”
“What about them? Their own friends don’t seem to give a troll’s ass whether or not we find their killer.”
“So you don’t, either?” Torin grabbed her by the shoulders. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that you would walk away from this just because your pride is hurt. Do you know why I don’t believe it?”
“No,” she muttered, “but I believe you’ll tell me.”
“Because that’s what Sir Rommett would do.”
That got her attention and she looked him in the eyes again. “What?”
“What you’re doing now is exactly what politicians like Sir Rommett do—choose the way that saves face over the way that does the right thing. Apologizing to him won’t cost you anything. You don’t even have to mean it—his kind is easily taken in by shallow flattery, and I’m sure any flattery you provide will be shallow indeed.”
Danthres barked a laugh at that, one that Torin knew was all but involuntary.
“It will get the job done, though. How many times have you said that the main thing we do here is speak for those who can’t speak for themselves? Well, Brightblade and lothSirhans need both of us to speak for them.”
Torin stared intently into Danthres’s gray eyes. The half-elf inhaled deeply through her nose, then let out a long
“I don’t always do that.”
“Yes, you do. You go into every situation with your sword up, whether or not you actually need it. The problem with that is, it usually just forces other people’s hands and they take out their sword when they might not otherwise.”
“And why not? It saves time. All my life, Torin, I’ve had to deal with people who think I’m an abomination at best. When I left Sorlin, I discovered just how rare it was for someone of my particular parentage to live beyond the age of one day. I came here—”
“You came here because Cliff’s End isn’t like that,” Torin said. “I know all this already.”
Danthres let out a long breath. “Then you should also know why I won’t put up with shit from people like Rommett.”
“What I know, Danthres, is that you’ve been living here for a decade. Isn’t it time you lowered your sword at least once to someone other than me?”
“My way is safer.”
“You’re about to lose your job, Danthres. How is that ‘safer’?”
Danthres snarled. “Better that than to turn into a smiling, naïve idiot like—” She cut herself off.
Torin walked over to her and looked her straight in the eye. “Like me? I thought you knew me better than that.”
She stared into his eyes for several seconds before looking away. Torin was grateful to see that she at least had the good graces to look abashed. “You’re a good man, Torin ban Wyvald,” she said, “and remarkably good-natured for someone who’s lived the life you’ve lived. But sometimes I think you’re still too much the philosopher and not enough the soldier.” Again, she faced him. “I wish I could live as you do, Torin, truly I do, but the world isn’t populated by people like you, or even Osric. There are many more Rommetts and Grovises and Nultis and Manfreds.”
Torin frowned. “Manfred?”
She shook her head. “That one at the Chain last night who thought I was ‘exotic.’ ”
“Oh, him.” Torin grinned. “Well, he’s right, you are exotic. And I think I know that particular guard—he’s one of the good ones. He’s working Unicorn, and if he’s the one I’m thinking of, Arron’s grooming him for a promotion. Has the makings of a detective.”
“Great. He can be your new partner, then. You’ll get more respect from everyone else now that you’re not partnered up with the ugly bitch.”
Torin shook his head. “Funny. You’ve always told me that you don’t give a damn about anything but justice, and seeing the right thing done.”
“Exactly. There’s no ‘right’ in whining for an apology to an aristocratic—”
“What about Gan Brightblade? And Olthar lothSirhans?”
“What about them? Their own friends don’t seem to give a troll’s ass whether or not we find their killer.”
“So you don’t, either?” Torin grabbed her by the shoulders. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that you would walk away from this just because your pride is hurt. Do you know why I don’t believe it?”
“No,” she muttered, “but I believe you’ll tell me.”
“Because that’s what Sir Rommett would do.”
That got her attention and she looked him in the eyes again. “What?”
“What you’re doing now is exactly what politicians like Sir Rommett do—choose the way that saves face over the way that does the right thing. Apologizing to him won’t cost you anything. You don’t even have to mean it—his kind is easily taken in by shallow flattery, and I’m sure any flattery you provide will be shallow indeed.”
Danthres barked a laugh at that, one that Torin knew was all but involuntary.
“It will get the job done, though. How many times have you said that the main thing we do here is speak for those who can’t speak for themselves? Well, Brightblade and lothSirhans need both of us to speak for them.”
Torin stared intently into Danthres’s gray eyes. The half-elf inhaled deeply through her nose, then let out a long
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