My pursuer gave off the air of a man who’s bet his house in a game of cards and lost it. His attempt at defiant scepticism came out like childish obstinacy – ‘But if the iron wasn’t as pure as we’re thinking …’ Endorsing, indirectly, the power of iron as a diagnostic tool. I huffed a laugh, meaning it this time, and said, ‘Well, if the coins miraculously turn into mud tomorrow morning, I’m sure every single person in this city will know where to find me. Really, I hardly picked the most convenient location to start my criminal career.’ Open laughter around me, now; his broad, unshaven face
...more
