Jack Vettriano night Negotiations

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air. Teppic sighed and, moving with the delicacy of a watchmaker, drew his diamond compasses from their pouch and dragged a slow, gentle circle on the dusty glass...

'You carry it yourself,' said Chidder. 'That's the rule around here.'
Teppic , ambling along beside him.
Teppic thought about this. 'No, not really,' he said. 'They mainly grow melons and garlic and that kind of thing. And stand in the streets and shout "hurrah".'
'This is your parents you're talking about?' said Chidder, puzzled.
'Oh, them? No, my father's a pharaoh. My mother was a concubine. I think.'
'I thought that was some sort of vegetable.'looked at the trunk. It was an intriguing notion. 'At home we've people who do that,' he said. 'Eunuchs and so on. 'You should of brought one with you.' 'They don't travel well,' said Teppic. In fact he'd adamantly refused all suggestions that a small retinue should accompany him, and Dios had sulked for days. That was not how a member of the royal blood should go forth into the world, he said. Teppic had remained firm. He was pretty certain that assassins weren't expected to go about their business accompanied by handmaidens and buglers. Now, however, the idea seemed to have some merit. He gave the trunk an experimental heave, and managed to get it across his shoulders. 'Your people are pretty rich, then?' said Chidder