Quoted By:
You smell burning and snap back to look. Most of the smoothed out papers are curling into ash. Only some sheets and the Dorf Diary segment in Seafood's hands are spared. You suppose they'll suffer the same once he's twigged what they contain.
"Tudi. Bring out the Tomb Serf. We are going." Without any other instruction he gets up and starts walking vaguely South.
You hurry Moar Oww into the Pouch, then hurry again ahead of Seafood to get the big fat woman Dummy out the Pouch.
She already has a harness strapped on, with a small chair tied on and a brolly in a holdyhole. You crouch a little and clasp your hands to give Seafood a leg-up.
He steps on your hands, then face, then the Dimmy's forearm, on which he gets lifted to the shoulder and the babby seat just behind.
You know full well he doesn't need to do this, or to do it this way, but he will.
You don't bother asking where you're going, and why Southerly, when Binny Land's East and North. You just tromp along, ready for orders.
It saves time and thrashings.
°°°
When you hit a forest road again after several days Seafood gets off his Dimmy ride.
"Tudi. The Mundane clothes you stole. Wear them."
You get to it quickly: a water douse and gargle, quick scrub with soap and dirty rags, a wipe-off with clean rags, then on with the Mercantines.
You slap on and smooth the pattyface like the Rhea fitters taught you, then kus-kus your pits and crotch. The socks they give you are just old sweater sleeves sewn shut on one end, but they fit. You powder them with talcam; they said it helps against food itchies. You don't want those; you know at least two Gobbs wot lost toes to foot itchies they didn't; it was gangrene.
"Are you DONE yet. Vainpot sloth." You are done immediately.
"<span class="mu-g">Yerr, Sweetfudds. All gooded.</span>"
Seafood looks you over. No compliments, no change in expression, just a sniff, and he's up and walking towards the road.
"Listen well. I am Beska, a Human orphan from Derrechston. You are my mute and slightly mentally ill adopted Uncle Oats, a Rhea... what skills do you have besides stealing and killing."
"<span class="mu-g">Nerrrr, I kin kludge, n sharpen sharpish, n do meat stitchens wivva hookneedle anna double shott hooch-</span>"
"You are Uncle Oats, a Rhea Tinker-Barber, a refugee of Yarrowvale. Act stupid and mad, the quiet kind. Do not answer to anything; turn away and act frightened when strangers engage you.
"In front of strangers I will hold your hand; one press means turn left, two presses means right; long press means stop."
"<span class="mu-g">Which iz left?</span>" This gets you a knuckle in the plexus. He keeps speaking over your nausea.
"<span class="mu-i">This</span> is your left. Dolt. If you're not sure, point with your other hand, slowly in a circle; I will press long for yes, rapid for no. Pretend to lead me. From time to time I will pretend to talk to you, and you will pretend to talk back. Do not reveal the Pouch, the Dagger, or use any Amulet unless I tell you. "
