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The do to the royal architects that four of them had committed suicide in the course of its construction, and one had died tragically – if soe pipe ‘Seventeen years and counting Looks like they’ve given up entirely on that fifth wing What do you think, Bugg? I value your expert opinion’

Bugg’s expertise a the hearth in the kitchen beloenty-two fired bricks stacked into a shape very nearly cubic, and indeed it would have been if three of the bricks had not come from a toppled mausoleum at the local cemetery Grave masons held to peculiar notions of what a brick’s dimensions should be, pious bastards that they were

In response to Tehol’s query, Bugg glanced up, squinting with both eyes

Five wings to the palace, the dos, except for the shoreside one, where only two tiers had been built Work had been suspended when it was discovered that the clay beneath the foundations tended to squeeze out to the sides, like closing a fist on a block of butter The fifth as sinking

‘Gravel,’ Bugg said, returning to his knitting

‘What?’

‘Gravel,’ the old man repeated ‘Drill deep wells down into the clay, every few paces or so, and fill ’eravel, packed doith drivers Cap ‘eht on the clay ot no reason to squirht Where in the Errant’s name did you co to keep our hearth fro shook his head ‘No, it’s not that heavy But if it was, that’s what I would’ve done’

‘Bore a hole? How far down?’

‘Bedrock, of course Won’t work otherwise’

‘And fill it with gravel’

‘Pounded down tight, aye’

Tehol plucked another fig fro had been harvesting fros ‘That’d make for an impressive cook hearth’

‘It would at that’

‘You could cook secure and content in the knowledge that the flatstone will neveran earthquake-’

‘Oh no, it’ll handle an earthquake too Gravel, right? Flexible, you see’