bed, but I’m not tired. I know it doesn’t make any sense,
but I’m going up to this Friends of the Street place to
make a last check on Folly.”
Mudge threw up his hands. ” ‘Umans! Now, wot do you
want to go and waste your time with that for, mate? The
girl’s a closed chapter, she is.”
152
Alan Dean Foster
“A closed chapter,” Jalwar agreed, “with a happy
ending. Leave it be. Why aggravate yourself?”
“I won’t aggravate myself. It’ll just take a minute.” He
plucked one string of his duar. “I owe her a farewell song
and I want to let her know that we’ll probably be coming
back this way, in case she wants to see us or anything.”
“Pitiful,” Mudge mumbled. “Plumb pitiful. Right then,
mate, come on. Let’s get it over with.”
“You don’t have to come,” Jen-Tom reminded him.
“What about your big supper?”
“It’ll keep.” He took the man’s arm and urged him up
the street. They climbed the first hill.
“Look at it, mate. The night’s as black as the inside of
a process-server’s ‘eart.” He stared up the narrow, winding
avenue. “You sure we can find this place?”
Jon-Tom nodded. “It’s atop a hill. We can always ask
directions. We’re not helpless.”
“No,” said a new voice, startling them, “not now
you’re not.”
“Roseroar… you’re not hungry either?”
“Ah’ve got a beilyfull of thunder,” she shot back, “but
ah figured ah’d better come along to make sure you two
don’t end up in an alley somewheres. Those muggahs may
still be working this area.”
“We can take care of ourselves, luv,” said Mudge.
“Ah’m sure you can, but you can take better care o’