bolt," said Pinion.
"Considering it was your first time and all," agreed one of the other Smiths.
"I had my doubts, but you held up," said Crucible. "You're no coward, I'll say that for you."
"And a good man in a fight, too," said Bellows.
"I never saw anybody bleed the way you did and live," offered Burnbright. At that moment the publican came up.
"Mrs. Smith! Charmed to see you again," he said, bowing. She extended a regal hand, and he kissed it.
"Delighted to have returned, Mr. Socket. Six of your best Salesh Ambers for the gentlemen, a peach milk for the young lady, and I shall have a dry Storm Force Nine with a twist," she said. "Later we'll need to inquire regarding suitable accommodations for the night."
He hurried away, and after a pleasantly short interval returned with their order. When he had departed, Burnbright held up her peach milk. "Here's to our caravan master," she yelled, hammering on the table with her little fist. "Death to our enemies!" They all clinked glasses and drank.
"I have dreamed of this moment," said Mrs. Smith, lighting her smoking tube and filling the booth with amberleaf fumes at once. "I shall take in a show along the Glittering Mile."
"I'm off to the Winking Tit," said Crucible, and the other keymen nodded in emphatic unison.
"Are there any places like that for ladies?" Burnbright asked.
"Not at your age, you silly thing," said Mrs. Smith. "What you'll need to do is get yourself over to the local mother house to clock in your mileage. You should be very nearly certified by now. What will you do, Caravan Master?"
Smith had been thinking in bemusement about the Winking Tit, but roused himself, and said, "I've got something I have to deliver, so I guess I'll do that first. Tonight I'm supposed to go see Lord Ermenwyr where he's staying."
"And Nurse Balnshik too?" Pinion dug him in the ribs.
"You'd better order up some oysters," chortled Bellows.
"You know what you really ought to do first," said Mrs. Smith, pointing at the disk Smith wore about his neck, "is go over to the baths in Anchor Street and redeem that thing the greenie doctor gave you. You'll feel much better afterward, fit for the lists of love or whatever you get up to after dark."
"That's a good idea," agreed Smith, thinking of hot water and clean towels. "I've still got Troon dust places I don't want to think about."
"It's awfully hard to get it out of your ears," said Burnbright seriously.
At this moment Smith glanced over and saw that the clerk had come into the bar with another person, and was staring about. He spotted Smith and the others and pointed, and the other person followed his gesture. Then she started toward Smith, and her attractive countenance was made less appealing by her expression of murderous rage.
"Uh--" said Smith.
"Caravan master! Can you sit and brazenly drink after such perfidy?" she hissed at him. Everyone in the booth drew back from her. She was clearly wealthy, with embroidered robes. Her hair was done up in an elaborate chignon held in place by jeweled pins. One expected to see her palanquin shopping or in a stage box at the theater, but certainly not leaning into a booth in the Stripped Gear, let alone with the veins in her neck standing out like that.
"Lady Katmile of Silver Anvil House?" guessed Smith. "Look, it was only one butterfly. Accidents happen and--"
"If it were only one!" she cried, and the clerk wrung his hands.
"Damage more extensive than reported," he said. "Contents examined with certified witness present. Every egg opened contained broken merchandise. Estimate fully half shipment in unacceptable condition."
"What d'you mean, damage?" shouted Mrs. Smith. "None of the damned things had so much as a crack in 'em, except the one we squashed!"
"Outer casings intact," admitted the clerk. "But inside--"
"What did you do, play handball with them?" demanded Lady Katmile. Smith closed his eyes, remembering Balnshik kicking violet eggs from her path as she ran,
"Considering it was your first time and all," agreed one of the other Smiths.
"I had my doubts, but you held up," said Crucible. "You're no coward, I'll say that for you."
"And a good man in a fight, too," said Bellows.
"I never saw anybody bleed the way you did and live," offered Burnbright. At that moment the publican came up.
"Mrs. Smith! Charmed to see you again," he said, bowing. She extended a regal hand, and he kissed it.
"Delighted to have returned, Mr. Socket. Six of your best Salesh Ambers for the gentlemen, a peach milk for the young lady, and I shall have a dry Storm Force Nine with a twist," she said. "Later we'll need to inquire regarding suitable accommodations for the night."
He hurried away, and after a pleasantly short interval returned with their order. When he had departed, Burnbright held up her peach milk. "Here's to our caravan master," she yelled, hammering on the table with her little fist. "Death to our enemies!" They all clinked glasses and drank.
"I have dreamed of this moment," said Mrs. Smith, lighting her smoking tube and filling the booth with amberleaf fumes at once. "I shall take in a show along the Glittering Mile."
"I'm off to the Winking Tit," said Crucible, and the other keymen nodded in emphatic unison.
"Are there any places like that for ladies?" Burnbright asked.
"Not at your age, you silly thing," said Mrs. Smith. "What you'll need to do is get yourself over to the local mother house to clock in your mileage. You should be very nearly certified by now. What will you do, Caravan Master?"
Smith had been thinking in bemusement about the Winking Tit, but roused himself, and said, "I've got something I have to deliver, so I guess I'll do that first. Tonight I'm supposed to go see Lord Ermenwyr where he's staying."
"And Nurse Balnshik too?" Pinion dug him in the ribs.
"You'd better order up some oysters," chortled Bellows.
"You know what you really ought to do first," said Mrs. Smith, pointing at the disk Smith wore about his neck, "is go over to the baths in Anchor Street and redeem that thing the greenie doctor gave you. You'll feel much better afterward, fit for the lists of love or whatever you get up to after dark."
"That's a good idea," agreed Smith, thinking of hot water and clean towels. "I've still got Troon dust places I don't want to think about."
"It's awfully hard to get it out of your ears," said Burnbright seriously.
At this moment Smith glanced over and saw that the clerk had come into the bar with another person, and was staring about. He spotted Smith and the others and pointed, and the other person followed his gesture. Then she started toward Smith, and her attractive countenance was made less appealing by her expression of murderous rage.
"Uh--" said Smith.
"Caravan master! Can you sit and brazenly drink after such perfidy?" she hissed at him. Everyone in the booth drew back from her. She was clearly wealthy, with embroidered robes. Her hair was done up in an elaborate chignon held in place by jeweled pins. One expected to see her palanquin shopping or in a stage box at the theater, but certainly not leaning into a booth in the Stripped Gear, let alone with the veins in her neck standing out like that.
"Lady Katmile of Silver Anvil House?" guessed Smith. "Look, it was only one butterfly. Accidents happen and--"
"If it were only one!" she cried, and the clerk wrung his hands.
"Damage more extensive than reported," he said. "Contents examined with certified witness present. Every egg opened contained broken merchandise. Estimate fully half shipment in unacceptable condition."
"What d'you mean, damage?" shouted Mrs. Smith. "None of the damned things had so much as a crack in 'em, except the one we squashed!"
"Outer casings intact," admitted the clerk. "But inside--"
"What did you do, play handball with them?" demanded Lady Katmile. Smith closed his eyes, remembering Balnshik kicking violet eggs from her path as she ran,
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