How could you keep carrying on?
One of us then picking.
We used to know each other. More's the
pity.
I was his commander many, many, many
moons ago.
Isn't that right, Vic?
Madsufferable.
Surely.
What are you trying to eat? Standing far
back from Ephan, the tight-faced
magister draws one finger across his
throat in an elaborate fashion, but says
nothing.
If grins, flashing pointed white teeth
as
same as he was at 14 years old.
Only difference is somebody gave him a
bigger sword and now he's Johnny Big
Pants.
There's nothing else I can make, your
majesty. Turnips and water are all I
just can't see you again, right?
Unacceptable. I've never dined on
anything.
Long story.
Maybe I'll tell you about it in the joy.
Away from interested parties.
There has been a murder, your majesty.
No.
Maybe that has the majesters more
concerned.
The dead man. Finn is it? I'd no
business with him,
and I wouldn't put a man down without
good reason.
Thing about swords.
He glances over at Magister Victor,
who's staring back at him with pointed
intensity.
Put a knuckle in it. I'm trying to
concentrate.
They don't care about us.
Damn shame. Sheer annoyance isn't reason
enough that if you keep carrying on
one of us,
the joy I've heard a lot.
Nothing good. No surprise there since
Bishop Alexander runs the show.
You and you shut up. Wonder if we'll get
to meet the ring master himself.
Insufferable. Surely.
What are you trying to hear anyway?
I'll tell you if you can keep it quiet
long enough for me to listen.
Easy now. I might think the same.
But Vic here will blow a blood vessel if
he hears you talking like that.
What are you conspiring about over
there? You What's your name?
Oh, don't mind him. Vic's just got a bee
in his bonnet.
And that bee is me.
I know it name.
Put a knuckle in it. I'm trying to
concentrate.
They don't care about us. We're like
cattle to them.
I'll give you that knuckle if you keep
carrying on.
Mister Victor looks at you suspiciously,
then scrolls something illeible down in
a tiny notebook. He scowls at you as he
stos the notebook back in his voluminous
robes.
Away with you at once.
Mad.
Insufferable. Surely.
If Anan performs an elaborate pantomime
of keeping quiet, one finger in front of
his lips as he leans back against the
wall.
Keeping quiet long enough for me to
listen.
Those bubbles.
She tries to run to him.
I will see him on edge officer.