“the man in the wheelchair said. “My mother’s away for several days. Can I be of some help?” Ushiba smiled. “That is very kind of you, Ken. But I wouldn’t think of imposing.” “On a cripple?” Those powerful shoulders shrugged. “I have time enough to spare for you, Daijin. I know you didn’t come all the way out here just to exchange idle gossip with Kisoko.” Ushiba nodded. He was used to Ken’s odd ways. What others might term impolite was merely Ken’s shorthand. He had little patience with proprie...ties—admittedly, an odd quirk in a Japanese—considering them nothing more than long-windedness. But perhaps this was nothing more than an affectation, one more attribute that was remarkable about him. Not that he needed it; Ken was quite remarkable without it. He was powerful, and an accomplished martial artist even without considering that he had no use of his legs. He was a fanatic collector; he had an astonishing collection of museum-quality antique weapons—many of them arcane—from Japan’s past.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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