‘Hands it over,’ demanded Zyra.
‘Zzzzzyra, my pretty,’ said the Cracker,
recognising her voice and smiling an oily, gap-toothed
smile. ‘I shoulds ’ave known it was you. All
covered up, but still such a pretty-pretty thiever.’
His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip as his eyes
worked their way up and down Zyra’s tall, sleek
frame. Slowly, he cracked the knuckles on his right hand,
one by one, as he continued speaking. ‘I could gets
you lots and lots of coinage for one of your talents.
Coppers. Silvers. Even golds! All you’ve gots to
do it speak the word.’
Zyra threw one of the razor leaves. It whizzed past
the Cracker’s ear, nicking it as it went.
‘Next one takes ya ear off.’
The Cracker wiped the drop of blood with a grubby finger
and brought it to his lips. His tongue flicked out again,
cleaning the blood away.
‘I takes that as a no.’ He smiled and shrugged.
‘Your loss.’
He reached his left hand into his shabby coat.
