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„Wretched teapot!” Rook's voice exclaimed in vexation.
Just like that, my fear melted away. My chest shook with laughter at the image of Rook staggering, drunk and affronted, through the labyrinth's crowded hallways, being assaulted by falling teapots. „Rook,” I whispered, trusting he would hear me, „are you all right out there?”
A mortified silence. Then, coolly: „I haven't the faintest idea why I wouldn't be all right.”
„That's true,” I said. „You slew a Barrow Lord, you shouldn't have any trouble with a kettle.”
„What are you doing?” I asked. „You can't sleep here.”
„Yes, I can. In fact, I must. I can't let any harm befall you, so it's best I stay close.”
„You could offer to sleep on the floor, like a gentleman.”
He appeared horrified by the suggestion.
„And I'm not certain you're in any state to protect me,” I went on, sensing a lost cause. „Just now you were almost assassinated by a teapot.”
180. oldal