The chokester seemed in a bit of a daze. He looked around for a place to sit, but there wasn’t any. The couch and the two chairs we had were already taken by the guests. (I kept a tight lid on frivolous expenses, you understand.)
“ ’Lo, brother,” came her response. She wasn’t quite frowning—you’ve never seen a real frown until you’ve seen Gwendolyn’s, let me tell you—but she certainly didn’t seem overjoyed to see her long-lost brother. Tense as a coil of steel.
The ice was broken by Shelyid. The dwarf sprang off his chair and raced over to Greyboar, squealing his happy greetings. A moment later, he was hugging the strangler’s right knee.
Greyboar winced. You wouldn’t think it, looking at the little guy, but Shelyid’s as strong as an ogre. Strange dwarf. Ugly as sin, for one thing. Hairier than a musk ox, for another.
“Hey, take it easy, Shelyid.”
“Oh! Sorry.” The dwarf released Greyboar’s leg and grinned up at him. Greyboar grinned back. He’s really very fond of that dwarf.
So am I, actually. A bit to my regret, then, because Shelyid raced over and gave me the same hug. I thought my ribcage was going to go, but I was surprised at how happy I was to see him.
Then Wittgenstein piped up and I wasn’t surprised at how much I hadn’t missed the slimy creature. “Isn’t that sweet, Magrit? Midgets meet again.”
“Shut up, Wittgenstein,” growled the witch. “We’re supposed to be on our best behavior.”
“That is my best behavior,” groused the salamander. “What am I supposed to do? Be polite?”
Greyboar nodded to Magrit. “I see you escaped the Cruds. I was a little worried when we heard the Ozarines had invaded Prygg.”
The witch sneered. “Those chumps? They couldn’t have caught me even if I hadn’t had the Rap Sheet.”
I made frantic little waving motions with my hands. You know the ones: shuddup, shuddup, shuddup.
Magrit’s sneer deepened. “And what’s your problem, Ignace? Don’t want any mention of the Rap Sheet in your presence?”
Very frantic waving motions: shuddup, shuddup, shuddup.
“You remember the Rap Sheet, don’t you? You ought to, Ignace. You helped steal it.”
“Absolutely!” shrilled the salamander perched on her shoulder. Wittgenstein reared up like a herald. “Ignace was deeply involved! Totally! Integrally!”
SHUDDUP, SHUDDUP, SHUDDUP.
Jenny and Angela were staring at me, wide-eyed.
“You stole the Rap Sheet?” gasped Angela.
“Is that what you were doing in Prygg?” demanded Jenny. She stared at Greyboar. “So that’s why you won’t ever talk about it!”
I clutched my head. The whole world would know!
“Shut up!” I cried.
“Whatever for, Ignace?” demanded Wittgenstein. As always, the high pitch of the familiar’s voice grated on my ears. “Since when have you become so modest?”
Wittgenstein swiveled his neck and peered intently at Jenny and Angela.
“Yes, yes, ladies! You are in the presence of terrible desperadoes! The very men who were complicit in the theft of Ozar’s Rap Sheet which drew down the wrath of that mighty empire upon poor, downtrodden Grotum. Responsible, I say, for the invasion of Pryggia and the ensuing horrors and atrocities.”
He rose to his full height and pointed at me. “J’accuse!”
“Oh, stop it,” said Magrit.
Wittgenstein snickered. “But it’s all true, Magrit! You know it is. You were there, after all.” Snicker, snicker. “It was your plot in the first place.”
Wittgenstein’s beady red eyes rolled back to Jenny and Angela. Again, that nasty snicker. “From subtle hints, I’d say the two of you have formed a romantic attachment to this Ignace fellow. Dummies.”
Jenny and Angela nodded. Gwendolyn frowned. Magrit sneered. Shelyid looked confused. Zulkeh didn’t.
Wittgenstein snickered again. Then, hissed: “Cradle robber. Bigamist cradle robber.”
“He is not a bigamist!” snapped Jenny.
Angela giggled. “More like a trigamist.” She put her arm around Jenny, and smiled seraphically. “As for the charge of robbing the cradle—well—”
“It’s true,” pronounced Jenny. “We are but lambs, led astray by this lustful beast.” She put her arm around me and rubbed her hip against mine. The motion involved was not, uh, lamblike.
For the first time, the wizard Zulkeh spoke.
“Do I understand correctly? Is it true that this wight has engaged in carnal intercourse with both of you hoydens? Who have, in your turn, transgressed the well-established bounds of heterosexual propriety?”