Perhaps he should have accepted Lina's offer to travel with them, but Zelgadis disliked leaving loose ends. "Rezo got the Stone before I could, and managed to destroy himself with it. I'm sorry," he told the young man seated across from him.
"Well, at least you got the bastard who did this to you. His own grandson..."
"Thank you for your help, Mister Greywords," the young man's companion said. His voice was odd, high-pitched and hollow, like he was a child trapped in the full plate he was wearing. But Zelgadis was no stranger to people with their own secrets.
"Good luck, gentlemen" Zelgadis stood up and offered his hand to the young man.
"Yeah. You too." The young man's grip felt odd through two sets of gloves -- too rigid for flesh.
As he was leaving, the young man nearly bumped into a drunk. "What where you're going, shorty."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE CAN'T SEE OVER THE TABLES!"
"Brother, please!" His companion had to stop him from throwing a table at the drunk.
Zel eyed the young man, mentally comparing him to a certain sorceress. "You two don't have a sister, do you?"