![]() what was it? Eat my toes? He’s not a clever man.” “Boris the Third-and yes, he’s the brother of Boris Junior, don’t ask-swore to . . . “Boris Junior swore to drink my blood,” Wax said. “Are they likely to try to kill you?” Steris asked. Saze is both sides now, right? Ruin isn’t around anymore. “I shot their father,” Wax said, not looking up. “They’re acquaintances of yours, aren’t they?” But what did he expect me to do? Knowing what I know . . . I know Saze doesn’t approve of what I’ve done, the book continued. “I’m thinking of inviting the Boris brothers to the wedding,” Steris said from the couch opposite the one Wax sat upon. Wax tapped the book with the end of his pencil, then scribbled down a note to himself on a separate page. ![]() I don’t know that I’d like them to anyhow. Not the side the historians will tell for me. I figure I should write one of these things, the book read. Note: This is an early draft subject to change. ![]()
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