Qildor smiled dryly. “For that, we owe the bastard a debt of gratitude, although I do not in the least regret killing him.”
“Dear gods, I would hope not, especially since making our personal lives better was definitely not his intention.”
With a laugh, Qildor agreed, and then, as they had finished eating, he suggested that Pilore walk home with him, “To work off a very good meal. We do not want you getting fat from idleness.”
“Those are fighting words,” Pilore growled, grinning at the same time.
Qildor gave him his most innocent look. “But the truth none the less?”
“Humph. Someday soon you will find out there is not one extra kilogram of fat on me.”
Qildor almost replied, “Tonight?” but knew better. He is right, though, it will happen soon, once we are both absolutely certain that wh
