“I didn’t know the Zibanejadi liked to swim,” the Sculptor said, watching as the trio climbed out of the trough, water sluicing off their scales and pooling between cracks in the cobblestone path. “We had no choice,” Beetlebub said. For once, his grin had disappeared. “Your damn dragonbees would’ve burned us to death.” “To death? No. At worst, you would’ve been scarred for life.”
