"You still haven't told me your full plan, Kasmeri," the man said, his voice low and edged with suspicion. He deliberately used the name the other kept hidden, like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. "You speak of justice—but what I see in your eyes is something else. Vengeance, perhaps?"
Kasmer didn't reply at once. He turned away, moving toward a battered workbench beside the narrow, groaning bed. His fingers drifted across the scorched surface, as though reading the ghost-script of a life long buried in fire and ash.
"When the time comes," he said at last, his voice almost a murmur, "there will be justice. And if vengeance walks beside it… then so be it. But you know me. I am not consumed by revenge."
Nasser studied him in the dim light, his gaze softening, but his words still wary. "And Reuben?"
Kasmer didn't look back. "His greed and impatience will be his undoing. He is moving too fast, his preparation lacking."
