Bug looked sheepish and gazed up at the chandelier.
“Gods damn it.” Locke slid out of his gold-gilded chair and went to a side cupboard; when he returned to the table he had a tiny sampling-glass in his hand, little more than a thimble for liquor. Into this he let slip the smallest dash of mint wine. He didn’t hold this glass up, but pushed it into the center of the table beside the glass under the black cloth.
“A glass poured in air for an absent someone. I don’t know where she is at the moment, and I pray you all choke, save Bug, thanks very fucking much.”
“Hardly a graceful blessing, especially for a priest.” Calo kissed the back of his own left hand and waved it over the tiny glass. “She was one of us even before you were, garrista.”
“You know what I do pray?” Locke set his hands on the edge of the table; his knuckles rapidly turned white. “That maybe someday one of you finds out what love is when it travels farther up than the buttons of your trousers.”
“It takes two to break a heart.” Galdo gently placed his left hand over Locke’s right. “I don’t recall her fucking things up without your able assistance.”
“And I daresay,” said Calo, “that it would be a tremendous relief to us all if you would just have the courtesy to go out and get yourself wenched. Long and hard. Gods, do three at once! It’s not as though we don’t have the funds.”
“I’ll have you know my patience for this topic was exhausted long before—” Locke’s voice was rising to a shout when Jean grabbed him firmly by his left biceps; Jean’s fist wrapped easily all the way around Locke’s arm.
“She was our good friend, Locke. Was and still is. You owe her something a bit more godly than that.”
Jean reached out for the wine bottle, then filled the little glass to its brim. He raised it into the light and took his other hand off Locke’s arm. “A glass poured to air for an absent friend. We wish Sabetha well. For ourselves, we pray brotherhood.”
Locke stared at him for a second that seemed like minutes, then let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the occasion. That was a poor toast and I…repent it. I should have thought better of my responsibilities.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Galdo grinned sheepishly. “We don’t blame you for the way you feel. We know she was…she was…her.”
“Well, I’m not sorry about the wenching bit.” Calo shrugged in mock apology. “I’m fucking serious, man. Dip your wick. Drop your anchor. Go see a lady about a sheath for a dagger. You’ll feel better.”
“Isn’t it obvious that I’m just ecstatic right now? I don’t need to feel better, because you and I still have work to do this evening! For the love of the Crooked Warden, can we please just kill this subject and throw its gods-damned corpse in the bay?”
“Sorry,” Calo said after a few seconds and a well-aimed glare from Jean. “Sorry. Look, you know we mean well. We’re both sorry if we push. But she’s in Parlay and we’re in Camorr, and it’s obvious you—”
Calo would have said something else, but an almond roll bounced off the bridge of his nose and he flinched in surprise. Another roll hit Galdo in the forehead; one arced into Jean’s lap, and Locke managed to throw up a hand in time to swat down the one intended for him.
“Honestly!” Bug clutched still more rolls in his outstretched hands, and he pointed them like loaded crossbows. “Is this what I get to look forward to when I grow up? I thought we were celebrating being richer and cleverer than everyone else!”
Locke looked at the boy for just a moment, then reached out and took the full sampling-glass from Jean, a smile breaking out as he did so. “Bug’s right. Let’s cut the shit and have dinner.” He raised the glass as high as he could toward the light of the chandelier. “To us—richer and cleverer than everyone else!”
“Richer and cleverer than everyone else!” came the echoing chorus.
“We toast absent friends who helped to bring us to where we are now. We do miss them.” Locke set the little glass to his lips and took a minuscule sip before he set it back down.
“And we love them still,” he added quietly.
3
“THE THORN of Camorr…is a particularly ridiculous rumor that floats around the dining parlor when