In the mingled streaming radiance of the Suns of Scorpio slanting into the clearing and lighting up the world for us, the dark events of the night passed away as though mere dreamstuff. I stretched and sniffed and Skort made that hideous grimace, all rotting teeth and glaring eyes, that is a Clawsang smile.
“Yes, you smell correctly. Breakfast.”
As we ate, I sensed some reservation on Skort’s part. He clearly wished to say something, and nerved himself to utter the words, and then withdrew and said some inconsequential observation of our present situation.
So, guessing what he wished to say, I said: “I wish my duty was concluded, as is yours.”
The green-slime around the exposed roots of the rotting teeth glimmered. Skort nodded. He was well-pleased.
“Yes. I must return to report the q
