Midnight Over Sanctaphrax
“His face was deathly pale. ‘Twig,’ he trembled. ‘It's started.’ ‘What's started?’ Cowlquape lightly touched his woodthistle-shaped rosette. ‘My cockade,’ he said miserably. ‘The material is starting to wilt.’ ‘Are you sure?’ said Twig. ‘It looks all right to me.’ Cowlquape shook his head angrily. ‘Look!’ he said. ‘It's gone all limp at the edges. I can't believe we've been here long enough for that to happen.’ ‘That tally-hen did warn us to keep track of time,’ Twig reminded him.
‘Yes, but ...three days!’ Cowlquape exclaimed hotly. ‘We can't possibly have been here for three days. It's all a con, a trick to enslave more unsuspecting free citizens …’ ‘Cowlquape, calm down,’ said Twig. ‘It hasn't rotted away yet. And anyway, what's done is done. We must look forwards.’ He turned to Spooler. ‘Time's running short,’ he said. ‘This Wig-Wig Arena,’ he said. ‘Can you take us there?’ The oakelf nodded and looked round about him slowly, thoughtfully.MoreLess
‘Yes, but ...three days!’ Cowlquape exclaimed hotly. ‘We can't possibly have been here for three days. It's all a con, a trick to enslave more unsuspecting free citizens …’ ‘Cowlquape, calm down,’ said Twig. ‘It hasn't rotted away yet. And anyway, what's done is done. We must look forwards.’ He turned to Spooler. ‘Time's running short,’ he said. ‘This Wig-Wig Arena,’ he said. ‘Can you take us there?’ The oakelf nodded and looked round about him slowly, thoughtfully.MoreLess
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