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Show "Aaah," said Rollanda, nodding. "We will take thee t h e r e . . . " Dr'Anya looked at her. "...on a litter." Dr'Anya blenched. She could not picture herself being carried off on a Seljuk litter like a GarGantua on holiday. "'Twill be nothing," Rollanda added. Then she shouted at one of the GarGantuas behind her to prepare the needed conveyance without delay, pulling out the disintegrator the whilst and testing its heft. Dr'Anya looked at it warily. "'Tis a historic. . .specimen," said Rollanda, "is't not?" "Aye," said Dr'Anya. "'Twould be well in some museum, in the NewOxbridge museum, or in thy private one in Needlesmith Hall." "Aye." "'Tis not a good weapon, in all verity! 'Tis no sport to hold such a thing up, t h u s . . . " She aimed and sighted down the barrel at the clutch of DragonGeese dancing, " . . . . a n d poof!" She shook her head in disgust. "Where is the blood in such a fight? Where is the danger, the test of skill? Paaaaah!" She slapped the weapon against her muscular thigh. "Mayhap," she said thoughtfully, "thou shouldst keep it and then place it in some museum to. . .be looked at." She laid it in Dr'Anya's unwilling hands. "'Tis all that it be good for, truly." Dr'Anya lifted up the weapon, turned it around, and raised her eyebrows. "Bowersox," she murmured reading the engraved legend along the side. "Johann Bowersox." "'Twas a talisman of Jothra's, handed down from his forebears," explained Rollanda. "But stole I the t h i n g . . . " She grinned. "And now, 'tis thine!" 336 |