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. A few weak voices croaked
encouragement.
"Even think that again," Otik said quietly, "and I will bang two
pots together."
It was quiet after that.
Gradually the bodies disentwined. A few rose, shakily. Hillae
approached the bar with dignity and passed some coins. "Thank
you," she said quietly. "Not the evening I'd planned, but interesting
enough, I suppose."
"Not the evening I'd planned either," Otik agreed. "Will you be
all right then?"
"Tired." She pulled her hair back over her shoulders. "It's time I
was back home. I have a bird, you know, and it needs feeding."
"Oh, a caged bird, then." Otik realized he wasn't at his sharpest.
"Songbird?"
"Lovebird. The mate is dead. You know, I really ought to set it
free." She smiled suddenly. "Good day." She bent quietly over,
kissed the cheek of her sleeping partner, and walked silently and
gracefully out.
Tika struggled back in, knocking buckets against the
doorframe. A few patrons flinched, but glared at Otik through red-
rimmed eyes and said nothing.
He took the water from her. "Thank you. Now go tell Mikel
Claymaker that I need fifty mugs." He passed her a handful of
coins. "There's my earnest for the order."
She stared at the money. Otik was as casual with his coin today
as he was with his help. "Shouldn't I stay here?" she said loudly.
"You'll need someone to mop the floor-" She stamped on it to
shake the dust for emphasis
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