Fiona turns round, irked at being tugged at in such a way, but
there's nobody behind her. It's not until she hears a throat being
cleared that she looks down to see a miniature man. Not a dwarf or a
midget, you understand, this man is perfectly proportioned, he just
happens to be roughly eighteen inches tall.
“Yes?” she asks, “Can I help you?”
The small man starts to pull a scroll from his pocket, a feat which
takes quite some time as the scroll turns out to be almost as wide as
he is tall. He clears his throat once more then begins to read.
“The Author of the Market bids you welcome this day,” the little
chap intones, “And preys your indulgence to accompany him as
adjudicant in a minor trifling.”
“That is something we can all agree on,” Larry says suddenly.
“A moment, if you don't mind,” Fiona says to the emissary,
turning to her companion. “Is my husband caught up in an
earthquake?”
“They believe they have been driving across an incumbent goliath,”
Larry replies, “Which is now waking from its' slumbers.”
