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Happily,the coppery water fro-prints “Perhaps, e catch theive me a new stove, with smooth bricks which do not leave marks on my back,” he chortled I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to finish

As I watched hiulp down the rainwater, ain onto the churned earth, my father Femi’s chin was considerably hairier and broader than it had been before The filthy water frothed suddenly between two yellow tusks, his thick hair twisted into a forelock, his eyes grown tiny and beady Before e, luhed at hi in the forest, still thirsty even after all his slurping

THE

MANTICORE’S TALE,

CONTINUED

“AND HERE HE IS, THE OLD BEAST, WITH NO stove at all anyave her boar a little slap on the ru he seemed to say:

“Why must you pester me so, Mesinyane?”

The blue-haired worinned at us “We lost their trail—I have an idea where they were going, but a Star lost stays lost I decided to make the best of it, and worked out this little act, which keeps me out of huts with stoves and in thick shoes But I had to dress him up in ribbons and hats—folk don’t believe it’s a taht costus are made a bit ridiculous in the process, you know”

I hand “It was Zmeya, wasn’t it? She’s dead, somehow, she’s dead!”

“That’s the story we tell—and you’ll find that story told quite a bit in the Vstreycha After she ate up her wicked husband Indrajit, the kingdooes on in the palace, and through a cooes on everywhere The old perfus these days They ed wives h,” she mused, “while they made their way to the throne There was a terrible spate of poisonings Some of us here do poison fros from them—they love to see Father Fee back to the jungle and let Mother see what becaain

“Where do you think they were going?” whispered Immacolata

Mesinyane shrugged “Fools are a keen old pack of crows There is a fool for every scrap of knowledge in the world, I’d bet, and they talk to each other I think they went to the Isle of the Dead; I think he went to bury her, to do as much as one Star does for another in the way of funeral rites”

I thought I saw tears in the odalisque’s dark eyes, but I could not iine why She had known the woman for a moment, and so what if she was a Star? The Sun was my father, and he never slept on a stove

“Can I offer you supper?” said the gold-eyed pygmy cheerfully “I have a nice rasher of bacon back in rinned, and her teeth were small, small and sharp

Once Mesinyane had filled us with bacon and rhys and lio and Immacolata learned many new tricks with their cards and silks, and they purchased a ra rendition of “The Rape of Amberabad,” which we shall perform for you, if you like It was a favorite of Hind’s and of mine, especially the part when the red ship sails up the harbor—which we auze—and the three-breasted captain cuts the palace into alio painted it blue to match my eyes, and Immacolata fixed its silver stars in their firmament Finally, we found an aolden feather flopping on its side, and Hind asked eagerly for news of ho sister, of her father with his silly lessons I told her she should not care, but she only sossip