“Did you succeed?” Waxillium asked, standing up, then reaching down to help Marasi to her feet. “Sure did—I got some scones.” Wayne grinned. “And the dirty conners even paid for them.” “Wayne?” “Yes?” “We’re dirty conners.” “Not no more,” he said proudly. “We’re independent citizens with a mind toward civic duty. And eating the scones of dirty conners.”
