“You don’t like the way I talk, Ch—Dzhoseph?” banteringly, stealing sly hands to mine and pretending to stare mockingly at me while peering into my eyes.
“Very well, Beelo. Did you square yourself with the king and have a good rest last night?”
“Of course. Do you think any king———”
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“Trying to see if I’m sick. Even though I were dead, your coming would bring me to life.”
“My! Did you hear that, Christopher?”
The sensible man did not answer, nor even look at her. She made a mouth at his back, withdrew her hand, and edged away a few inches. Had I made a slip after that confidence and caution from Lentala? I roused myself.
“What’s the news, little brother? What game and what killing today?”
Her face fell grave. “Something has happened with you since I saw you last night, Choseph.”