Laecia seethed like a boiled-over pot at the utter Ralian barbarity (as she termed it) of putting poison on a punch-knife. “It’s insulting!” she said, gesturing wildly with her wine. “To Caethari and to whatever-his-name-was. Honestly! If you’re going to poison someone, poison them; if you’re going to stab them, stab them. Don’t go mixing and matching like an urchin at a rag-cart!”
