"You're quite right, I am, as you say, a Rifter." It wasn't his favourite word ever, but it did the job well enough and rather concisely.

The very nature of Klaus's work meant he was more scholar than warrior most of the time and his head was a big eclectic mess of trivia.

"The Danse Macabre," he says in what is passable French (or Orlesian to Myr), "Or Dance of Death. It's an old allegory; that whatever station we hold in life, whatever our age or material wealth, we are all equals in the eyes of Death."

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"A pity that is what it takes."