Chapter eight
The four smithsEmder, sober-faced, lifted the statue. Emder, sober-minded, meticulous, supremely efficient, is the friend who looks after me when I happen to be in a palace or a civilized place, as Deft-Fingered Minch, my crusty old kampeon comrade, is the friend who looks after me in camp. Now Emder shook his head.
“It is a great pity. The piece has merit.”
“Aye,” Seg said with some emphasis, and gave Emder no chance of holding onto the statue by tweaking it out of his grasp.
“What the empress will say...” started Emder. Then he halted. “No. I am being foolish. The empress would command instantly that her girls remove what is necessary from her own boudoir and anywhere else.”
“You are right, Emder,” I said, and reached out for a candlestick, one of a pair, and Seg, hurl
