Sekheret’s lip curled, and his eyes gleamed. “Rina of Thundermouth? I can’t say I care much for her, either. Maybe you and I have more in common than I thought.”
“Enough in common to make a deal?” Marish asked.
“Possibly. How much money did you have in mind?”
Marish leaned forward, holding Sekheret’s gaze. The other man leaned forward as well, unconsciously mimicking him.
“Five hundred thousand,” Marish said. “I’ll take the hundred thousand here,” he said, waving the half-opened bundle of bills around, “as the advance. The rest to be paid when the job is done to your satisfaction.”
Sekheret sighed with relief, which was what Marish wanted. He had been building Sekheret up to expect Marish to demand a cut equal to that of whoever was hired to kill Itana. This would seem cheap by compar
