Chapter Eight
Andel and Huldar
In the back room of the Red Weyfal, two burly angels cleared a long wooden trestle littered with empty trays and tureens, used bowls and platters, and not a grain of little attar to be seen. They barely looked up as Topper darted in.
“Sorry, mates!” he said cheerfully. “Forgettin’ me beverage here. How could that ’appen, eh?”
By a window in the front, the Uri’madu had gathered around a group of tables pulled together for the occasion. Another bowl of greasy omosa was plonked down in front of them and the Planet Walkers tucked in with gusto.
“And there she was,” Casco raised his hands theatrically. “Eyes of a startled maffit! The great hairy beast reared up before her, trying to sniff her face.” He waved his arms and cried, “Get away, get away!” in a high
