"My employer," he said carefully, "has very… discerning… senses. He can be blunt. It is a provincial habit."
The larger of the two bodyguards took a slow step forward, broad shoulders filling more of Lyan's peripheral vision. The thinner one's hand drifted toward his belt.
Kora's fingers tightened on the edge of the counter. Her eyes flicked to the shelves as if calculating how many vials would break if a fight started.
Vargan regarded Will for a long moment.
"You claim," he said softly, "to know my proprietary product by smell."
"I claim to know snake oil when it wafts past my nose," Will shot back. "If this is your best work, I'd be ashamed to stock it."
Lyan wanted to sink into the floor.
(You brought him here.)
Eira's tone held frozen judgment.
(You knew what he was like.)
"Yes," Lyan thought back bleakly. "That is the problem."
Aloud, he lifted his hands slightly, palms open.
