THE IRONLANE DETECTIVE
Copyright ©2012 by Paul F Witham
November in South Eyros
The following innocuous exchange took place a long time after the events of this chapter, once the two had got to know each other better. Hobarsson was downing the last measure of his pint, a film of sweat on his red face, subdued by tobacco fumes and alcohol. A great weight was vanishing wonderfully from his shoulders; he lay in the arms of partial oblivion. There was pipe smoke all around and a lot of friendly noise. He focussed in on the gentle act of positioning his empty pot on a table cluttered with brimming ashtrays and drained glasses. Such a lot of beer. Such a lot of irresponsibility. He knew that tomorrow would bring something awful.
He had to raise his voice louder than he would have liked. "Strictly speaking, we shouldn’t be breaking cover," he said.