“That's....khuh!....that's
Strauss,” Fiona coughed, “He's....he's with me.”
“I
see,” I said, looking at the dwarf brushing himself down, then at
the one by the door, and finally the one crawling out from under
Robert's chair. “What about these other two?”
“They're
all....khuh!....khuh!....they're
all Strauss,” she struggled to say. “They've got
other....khuh!....other
names.”
I
wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I stayed silent. What
surprised me most, I was beginning to find, was how readily I was
able to accept all these strange goings on. There's a giant face in
the living room wall. Okay. It belongs to a monk, lost for
centuries in the imagination. Fine. Now there's a bunch of dwarves
in your house, and they're all called Strauss. Whatever.
In
all honesty, I think by that time I'd given up on anything making
sense ever again.
“Have
you taken leave of your senses, you daft old bird?” Oak leaned
forward in his seat, looking accusingly at Raven. “Are you just
going to let everything through?”
Raven
sighed once more, his shoulders heavy with resignation. “Look
around you, you daft old tree,” he said, “We're not in the Warp
anymore!”
