“You’re mercenaries!” Loga said. “How wonderfully romantic. I suppose that you must be the brawn, Tsira, and I daresay you provide the majority of the brains of the operation as well. What exactly is your partner’s role?” “Mostly talking posh and looking pretty,” Miss Tsira said. “And he can put a bullet through a playing card at fifty paces.” “Heavens,” Loga said, “how wonderfully virile of you, Mr. Jeckran. I may swoon.” “If you do, your grace,” Mr. Jeckran said, “I would recommend doing so in my partner’s direction. I can make no assurances that I would catch you.” His partner, for her
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