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“No need,” the old man said. “The last time I tried lords’ food, I had stomach pains for three days. New tastes are like new ideas, young man—the older you get, the more difficult they are for you to stomach.”
“I don’t care about Tresting,” Dockson said. “I’m just considering the state of insanity that led me to plan another job with you. Attacking a provincial lord in his manor house, surrounded by guards … Honestly, Kell, I’d nearly forgotten how foolhardy you can be.” “Foolhardy?” Kelsier asked with a laugh. “That wasn’t foolhardy—that was merely a small diversion. You should see some of the things I’m planning to do!” Dockson stood for a moment, then he laughed too. “By the Lord Ruler, it’s good to have you back, Kell! I’m afraid I’ve grown particuarly boring during the last few years.”
His contact sat in the doorway of a closed shop, puffing quietly on a pipe. Kelsier raised an eyebrow; tobacco was an expensive luxury. Either Hoid was very wasteful, or he was as successful as Dockson implied.
