Instead, he opened his bag, took out a book and started to read. It was the sort of book that has pictures in it, and not much text. At Strepsi Ochoe he got out and spent an hour in the inn, a small drab place he knew only too well. Then the military mail arrived, and he went out and introduced himself to the driver, who opened the coach door for him and offered him a rug. There was another passenger, a stocky man in a grey travelling cloak with a hood. “Hello, Oida,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder if you were all right.” “I’m fine,” Oida said, tucking the rug round his knees. “I got a bit held up, that’s all.” “Success?” Oida considered his reply. “Not too bad,” he said. “I made a mess of some aspects of it, but by and large it went well.” His companion grinned. “One theory is that you’re a completist,” he said, “you can’t rest till you’ve had them all. I’ve got to tell you, that’s not actually possible. They’re being born and dying all the time, how could you possibly keep up?”
What do You think about The Two Of Swords: Part 10?
