He retrieved the spyglass and walked over. She moved her chair to one side to give him room. ‘There is a falcon’s nest on the ledge of that tower, the copper-sheathed one.’ He held up the glass. Searched until he found the nest. ‘That is no falcon.’ ‘You are right. It’s a bokh’aral that found the abandoned nest to its liking. It carries up armfuls of rotting fruit and it spends the morning dropping them on people in the streets below.’ ‘It appears to be snarling…’ ‘That would be laughter. It is forever driven to bouts of hilarity.’ ‘Ah – no, that wasn’t fruit. It was a brick.’ ‘Oh,
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