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Brother
Watchtower
had
his
hand
up
again
.
"
Yes
?
"
"
You
saying
there
’
s
some
sort
of
heir
to
the
throne
hanging
around
somewhere
?
"
said
Brother
Watch
-
tower
.
"
This
may
be
the
case
,
yes
.
"
"
Yeah
.
They
do
that
,
you
know
,
"
said
Brother
Watchtower
knowledgeably
.
"
Happens
all
the
time
.
You
read
about
it
.
Skions
,
they
’
re
called
.
They
go
lurking
around
in
the
distant
wildernesses
for
ages
,
handing
down
the
secret
sword
and
birthmark
and
so
forth
from
generation
to
generation
.
Then
just
when
the
old
kingdom
needs
them
,
they
turn
up
and
turf
out
any
usurpers
that
happen
to
be
around
.
And
then
there
’
s
general
rejoicing
.
"
The
Supreme
Grand
Master
felt
his
own
mouth
drop
open
.
He
hadn
’
t
expected
it
to
be
as
easy
as
this
.
"
Yes
,
all
right
,
"
said
a
figure
the
Supreme
Grand
Master
knew
to
be
Brother
Plasterer
.
"
But
so
what
?
Let
’
s
say
a
skion
turns
up
,
walks
up
to
the
Patrician
,
says
’
What
ho
,
I
’
m
king
,
here
’
s
the
birthmark
as
per
spec
,
now
bugger
off
’
.
What
’
s
he
got
then
?
Life
expectancy
of
maybe
two
minutes
,
that
’
s
what
.
"
"
You
don
’
t
listen
,
"
said
Brother
Watchtower
.
"
The
thing
is
,
the
skion
has
to
arrive
when
the
kingdom
is
threatened
,
doesn
’
t
he
?
Then
everyone
can
see
,
right
?
Then
he
gets
carried
off
to
the
palace
,
cures
a
few
people
,
announces
a
half
-
holiday
,
hands
round
a
bit
of
treasure
,
and
Bob
’
s
your
uncle
.
"
"
He
has
to
marry
a
princess
,
too
,
"
said
Brother
Doorkeeper
.
’
’
On
account
of
him
being
a
swineherd
.
’
’
They
looked
at
him
.
