Dow gave him a long look. “When did Bethod stop suiting you, eh, Ninefingers?” Logen stared back at him. “Hard to say. Bit by bit, I reckon. Maybe he got to be more of a bastard as time went on. Or maybe I got to be less of one.” “Or maybe there ain’t room on one side for two bastards as big as the pair o’ you.” “Oh, I don’t know.” Logen got up. “You and me work real sweet together.”
