I think they're deaf and dumb, but be damn careful."
"You bet," I whispered, and was glad the streets were empty. I walked
along, trying not to look at the gliding motion of that shrouded thing
up ahead.
The trading was done in an open hut of reeds which looked as if it had
been built in a hurry, and was not square, round, hexagonal or any other
recognizable geometrical shape. It formed a pattern of its own,
presumably, but my human eyes couldn't see it. Kyral said in a breath of
a whisper, "They'll tear it down and burn it after we leave. We're
supposed to have contaminated it too greatly for any of the Silent Ones
ever to enter again. My family has traded with them for centuries, and
we're almost the only ones who have ever entered the city."
Then two of the Silent Ones of Canarsa, also covered with that coarse
shiny stuff, slithered into the hut, and Kyral choked off his words as
if he had swallowed them.
It was the strangest trading I had ever done. Kyral laid out the small
forged-steel tools and the coils of thin fine wire, and I unpacked my
lenses and laid them out in neat rows.
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