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top dollar, stranglers. Exclusive clientele. Professional murderers, that’s all they are, with a shiny respectable gloss.”
She took a deep breath. “So anyway, here’s my brother, gets me out of there. And afterward I told him—‘There’s people being murdered, raped and tortured by porkers all over Grotum, and you never gave a damn. So why’d you come here?’”
She looked at me. “’Because it was you,’ he said.”
“I see. I reminded you of him.”
“Yes. And no. You’re a lot alike, actually, in some ways.”
She stirred the fire again. “But then, you’ve chosen to do something else with your hands.” She took my hand and looked at it. “Good hands, you’ve got. I noticed that the first day we met.”
She looked