“Heqt take you all to the waters beneath the earth!” shouted the Cir- donian in fury. He slashed the air with his dagger as if to wipe away the message crawling there in the metal. “I’m not a burglar, and coming to this damned city doesn’t make me one.”
“When you are hungry, eat what you despise,” said the manikin on Khamwas’s shoulder. “When you are full, despise it.”
“Anyway,” said Star, “ifs going to rain. Uncle Samlor.” She looked smug at the unanswerable truth other latest argument.The caravan mas- ter began to laugh.
Khamwas blinked, as frightened by the apparent humor as he had been by the anger that preceded it. Emotional outbursts by a man as danger- ous as the caravan master were like creakings from the dike holding back flood waters.
“Well,” the Napatan said cautiously, “I suppose the situation may change for the better by daylight. Though of course neither of us were considering theft. I want to look at a slab of engraved stone, and you simply wish to retrieve your niece’s legacy from its caretaker-who seems to be absent.”
“We don’t know what it is.” said Star. “My gift.”
“Ah,” said Khamwas, speaking to the girl but with an eye cocked toward her uncle. “That shouldn’t be an insurmountable problem. If we’re inside”-he nodded toward the door-“and the object is there also, I should be able to locate it for you.”
“Will you show me how?” Star begged, clasping her hands together in a mixture of pleading and premature delight.
“Ah . . .” repeated the Napatan scholar. “1 think that depends on what your uncle says, my dear.”