That more than the words before it seems to still the phantoms, paralysed in place by a sense of wait and wonder, of animal alert. They turn, one by one, as if driven by a single instinct and feeling, to behold Slick, not a a breath out of turn, not a word surrendered.

Then, carefully, the highest ranking of them raises a hand, and releases a shivered, nervous laugh, "Our friend doesn't know the Lord Arha. He's speaking out of turn, cause he don't know better, but he means nothing by it."