‘Popularity is a curse,’ Iskaral said, stretching out with his hands behind his head and staring up at the taut ropes of the mattress above him. ‘Not that she’d know anything about that. I’d better visit the local temple, assert my tyrannical dominance over all the local acolytes and fakir priests and priestesses. Priestesses! Might be a pretty one or two. As High Priest, I could have my pick as is my right. Make offerings in the shadow between her legs, yes-’
‘I’d know, Iskaral Pust,’ Mogora snapped, moving about on the bed above. ‘I’d just know, and then I’d take my knife, one night when you’re sleeping, and I’d snick snick and you’d be singing like a child and squatting t’piss and what woman or mule would want you then?’
‘Get out of my head, woman!’
‘It’s not hard to know what you’re thinking.’
‘That’s what you think! She’s getting more dangerous, we need a divorce. But isn’t it why most mates break up? When the woman gets too dangerous? Must be. I’m sure of it. Well, I’d be free then, wouldn’t I? Free!’
The mule brayed.
Mogora laughed so hard she wet herself, if the rank dribbles from above were any indication.
Scillara and Cutter had taken the berths closest to the stern in an effort to achieve some sort of privacy, and had rigged a section of spare canvas across the walkway, Despite this, Mogora’s half-mad laughter reached through, triggering yet another scowl from Cutter.
‘If those two just realized how perfect they are for each other, we’d finally get some peace.’
Scillara smiled. ‘I’m sure they do. Most marriages involve mutual thoughts of murder on occasion.’
He glanced over at her. ‘You’ve some strange ideas, Scillara. About all sorts of things.’
‘I was wondering, when you head out tonight, will you want my company? Or would you rather go on your own?’
He could not hold her gaze and made a show of stretching his back before reclining on his bunk. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘You’ll like the Phoenix Inn. Meese, Irilta, Murillio, Coll and Kruppe. Well, maybe not Kruppe, who rubs some people the wrong way, but he’s harmless enough… I suppose.’ He rummaged in the pouch at his belt for a moment, then drew out a single coin. A Blue Moranth silver sceptre, which he began deftly working through his fingers. ‘Won’t they be surprised to see me.’
She managed a smile. ‘Cutter’s belated return.’