“Well if there's nothing I can do to help,” Fiona says to Larry,
“I'd better see what this little fellow wants. But please, have
your other selves do everything they can to keep my husband alive.
Now then,” she turns to the miniature messenger, “What was it you
wanted?”
“My lord,” the little man begins, “The Author of the Market,
bids you...”
“Yes, yes,” Fiona interrupts, “Save the flowery rigmarole, what
does he want?”
“Why, your assistance, of course,” the messenger replies, as if
it's the most obvious thing in the world.
“We believe,” Larry says, “That the time may have come for our
journey to continue on foot.”
“Your dwarf can stay here,” the messenger tells Fiona, “He'll
be quite safe, and you wont be gone long so he shouldn't get too
anxious.”
“Can't he just come with us?” Fiona asks.
“Regrettably, no,” the small chap replies, “My master was very
specific, no pets of any kind. You can tie him to those railings
over there.”
