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Dirzed's teeth flashed white against his brown skin as he gave Verkan Vall a quick smile. "By all means, Lord Virzal; I would much rather be distrusted than to find that my client's friends were not discreet." There were a couple of hotel Assassins guarding Dirzed's airboat, on the landing stage.
Sarnax was firing with his rifle at some target in the direction of the lifter tubes; Dirzed lay slumped over the barricade, and one glance at his crumpled figure was enough to tell Verkan Vall that he was dead. "You fill magazines for us," he told Dalla, then crawled to Dirzed's place at the door. "What happened, Sarnax?"
They all hooked fingers and clapped shoulders with the newcomer. "That won't be needed," Verkan Vall told Dirzed. "I know you from seeing you with the Lady Dallona, on the visiplate; you're 'Dirzed, her faithful Assassin." Dirzed's face, normally the color of a good walnut gunstock, turned almost black. He used shockingly bad language.
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