As he sat freshly showered, putting on his shoes, Voker turned to him. He paused to blow gustilythrough his narrow, full-lipped mouth. The footing slowed him some-hisboots didn't grip as well-but it wouldn't be any better for Esenrok. He simply knew without computation that FingasKelromak expected a lag, and it would be better to meet his expectation.
Voker glanced at the clock: 12:59. 48On the great estates of Komars, two kinds of men worked the harvests. No rivers of size hadentered it, and it had occurred to Varlik to wonder where, on such a dryworld, the Lok-Sanu got its water. If you haven't found him by ten o'clock, come back.
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