Deathwalker 6.6

            “You are going to shut what?”
            On a groan, I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands. Now, I knew how Ter Fless had felt in that business meeting. Feeling their gazes on me, I answered without raising my head.
            “‘Shut up,’ means to stop talking.”
            Another silence.
            “Deathwalkers are hard to speak with.” The deep voice was lightly laced with annoyance.
            “Funny. I’ve heard that, but this is the first time it’s ever happened to me.” I was usually better about staying in the right century. Or millennia at least. Rubbing my eyes, I gave my self a short inner pep talk and dropped my hands. “I apologize for the confusion. I will attempt to do better.”
            They were staring again. What did I say now? Frowning, I went through every word in the statement. There shouldn’t have been any old jargon or slang to confuse them.
            “I begin to see what Gri meant,” Kith rumbled. “Come, Deathwalker. It is time for the crew meal. You will join us if you wish to eat.”
            Well, that was pretty clear, food-wise. I wasn’t sure I wanted an explanation for the first part. I started to reply, caught their expressions, and nodded instead. Kith raised an eyebrow and turned back down the hall. The Light One leapt off the sconce and glided before him. And I trailed behind them both like a small child on a trip to the Intergalactic Zoo.


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