Chapter sixteen
Kazz-JikaidaOver the seasons I have taken much enjoyment and indulged in merry mockery and silly sarcasm from that fuzzy look of blank idiocy I can plaster all across my weather-beaten old beakhead. But as the guards and the Watch strode up, clanking, I felt the pang of a realization that, perhaps, this stupid expression was truly me, after all.
“Hey, fellow! A slave, a damned runaway slave. Have you seen him?”
I picked my teeth. “Was he a little Relt with a big wart alongside his hooter?”
“No, you fambly—”
“I haven’t seen anyone like that.”
“A hulking stupid great oaf of a Brukaj—”
“Best look along by the Avenue of Bangles — they’re all notors in here.” I screwed my eyes up. “D’you have the price of a stoup of ale, doms? I’m main thirsty—”
But, angry and waving the
