“And you’ve got a fence who will take that?” Shyan asks Cang doubtfully.
“Certainly,” replies Cang, hefting the heavy tile. “We shall simply make contact with a local. Perhaps a musician.”
“A musician who works for the dragon?”
“Er,” says Cang. Shyan tugs at the heavy front door, which had apparently closed silently behind them. It’s sealed tight, not budging a bit.
“Er,” says Shyan.