Two minutes later, Polar Star returns, muzzle again dripping green slime. He sighs, and hands me a second scroll.
I open it. It reads simply:
P.S.: Is Fireball okay?
I look up in growing horror. "Polar Star?"
He stands a bit straighter. "Yes, mistress?"
"I did instruct thee to return to the cart after dropping me off at the library," I say slowly, "yes?"
He stares at me blankly.
I repeat the colorful epithet I learned from Fireball.
Hah!
Bonus points for using "flensing."
Hahaha. There's that mystery solved.
Pfffffft. Oh god.
That was too good.
~Skeeter The Lurker
so her cart-pullers are allergic to scroll-sending?
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I think the implication is that her guards are messily sneezing out the scrolls in a manner similar to Spike's. Somehow.
I could be wrong.