“Did someone call for a bard?”

Swotham looked up, and saw, silhouetted against the bright sky, two figures dressed in rich garments. “Oh, no!” he cried. “No! Anyone but…”

“Sir Nick of Elback!” the first figure said, stepping forward and strumming his electric lute.

“Sir Lincoln-of-the-Park!” the second said, belting the words out in a grungy tune.

“You two stink,” muttered Swotham. “Nobody likes you anymore.”

“Well, now that Sir Vana d’Nir is gone, we’re all you’ve got.” said Sir Lincoln.

“That’s right,” echoed Sir Nick, playing an out-of-tune chord. “Hit it!”

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