“Come on, Drajak, bratch!” snapped Lola, and I set to.
“Brick dust and spit,” I said. “That’s what I’m more accustomed to.”
Tilly laughed at this. So we sat, talking desultorily, cleaning.
Then Manting said: “I did not think Clansmen, being nomads, knew anything of bricks for building.”
To stir her up a trifle, I said: “Only when we knock ’em down.”
“Oh!” said one of the women, startled.
“Barbarians!” sniffed Lola the Assandra.
So, as you can see, we were getting along like a house on fire, as they say in Clishdrin.
When I felt it appropriate, I took up the drexer from the Kanzai and gave that a good clean and polish.
Despite my good intentions, and the very real necessity of not doing so, I found myself more and more fretting in the direst terror for Delia.
Like a ripsaw through
