..."
Abashed, I fished in a pocket and offered her a somewhat battered pocket
comb. She looked at it distastefully but used it to good purpose,
smoothing her hair swiftly, rearranging her loose-pinned robe so that
the worst of the tears and stains were covered, and giving me,
meanwhile, an artless and rather tempting view of some delicious
curvature. She replaced the starred tiara on her ringlets and finally
opened the door of the workroom and we walked through.
Not for years had I known that particular sensation--thousands of eyes,
boring holes in the center of my back somewhere. There _were_ eyes; the
round inhuman orbs of the dwarf _chaks_, the faceted stare of the prism
eyes of the Toys. The workroom wasn't a hundred feet long, but it felt
longer than a good many miles I've walked. Here and there the dwarfs
murmured an obsequious greeting to Miellyn, and she made some
lighthearted answer.
She had warned me to walk as if I had every right to be there, and I
strode after her as if we were simply going to an agreed-on meeting in
the next room.
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