Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
- Robert W. Service (1874?1958). The Cremation of Sam McGee (l. 33). . .
"This is it?" The barrister couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice.
"Haven't your requests always been fulfilled?" came the sibilant reply.
Lucien leaned back in the chair, causing the tired legs to groan in protest. There were many things the barrister tolerated and few things he hated. Having a question answered with a question was one of those few things he neither tolerated nor accepted. The wrapped tube remained untouched on the table between the men.
"It is what you requested," the darkness whispered, breaking the silence at the table.
The chair moaned again, under the shifting weight. Lucien leaned across the table and placed a sack tied like a brick on the edge of the shadow draped across the marred wooden surface. He rose to his feet, and in the same motion, picked up the wrapped tube and tucked it into his jacket pocket. A gloved hand snaked out from the shadows and dragged the brick into the darkness.
"Is this everything?" the unseen voice hissed.
"Haven't your price always been met?"
A breath of silence followed the barrister as he moved from the table. Then an unpracticed laugh rose from behind the dim veil at the table.
- Robert W. Service (1874?1958). The Cremation of Sam McGee (l. 33). . .
"This is it?" The barrister couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice.
"Haven't your requests always been fulfilled?" came the sibilant reply.
Lucien leaned back in the chair, causing the tired legs to groan in protest. There were many things the barrister tolerated and few things he hated. Having a question answered with a question was one of those few things he neither tolerated nor accepted. The wrapped tube remained untouched on the table between the men.
"It is what you requested," the darkness whispered, breaking the silence at the table.
The chair moaned again, under the shifting weight. Lucien leaned across the table and placed a sack tied like a brick on the edge of the shadow draped across the marred wooden surface. He rose to his feet, and in the same motion, picked up the wrapped tube and tucked it into his jacket pocket. A gloved hand snaked out from the shadows and dragged the brick into the darkness.
"Is this everything?" the unseen voice hissed.
"Haven't your price always been met?"
A breath of silence followed the barrister as he moved from the table. Then an unpracticed laugh rose from behind the dim veil at the table.