Slate nodded to me. “How are you?” “Impatient,” I responded, but I nodded back to him warily. “You’re the Winter Knight?” “So far, yeah. I guess you’re the Winter Emissary. Asking questions and investigating and so on.” “Yep. Did you kill Ronald Reuel?” Slate burst out laughing. “Christ, Dresden. You don’t waste time, do you?” “I’ve filled my insincere courtesy quota for the day,” I said.
