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Show things. "Noticed thou something about those two?" asked Erica happily. "About the man called Phrapp and Dr'Anya?" Dr'Igor and Pym looked at her questioningly. "She be well smitten," Erica said triumphantly. Then she frowned and shook her head. "Though a handsome specimen Phrapp is not, and that surely." Dr'Igor shook his head, suddenly angry. "Aye, he is not much to look at!" He stroked his luxuriant beard. What possessed the woman of Needlesmith Hold, could the Saints tell him that? "Of sluggish thought as well," put in Pym, blandly. "A Bauercrat, t o o . . . ! " This from Erica. Dr'Igor smiled. "There are no more Bauercrats, now," he said with some satisfaction. They stopped in front of the dancing birds who did a little curtsy in front of them-mockingly it seemed to Dr'Igor-then backed up and described a wide circle, their webbed feet slapping the hard ground in time with the strange piping music. Someone among the onlookers laughed out loud, but Dr'Igor sighed heavily. What a strange end to his Revolution! What a strange end to five full TwelveMonths of scheming! Ah, but never mind all that. He will think of something; he always could think of something. 334 |