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Keli
snorted
.
’
And
your
doorknocker
.
’
Cutwell
pulled
out
a
chair
and
sat
down
.
He
squirmed
a
little
.
A
thoughtful
expression
passed
over
his
face
.
He
stood
up
,
reached
behind
him
and
produced
a
flat
reddish
mass
which
might
have
once
been
half
a
pizza
.
He
stared
at
it
sorrowfully
.
’
I
’
ve
been
looking
for
that
all
morning
,
would
you
believe
?
’
he
said
.
’
It
was
an
Ail
-
On
with
extra
peppers
,
too
.
’
He
picked
sadly
at
the
squashed
shape
,
and
suddenly
remembered
Keli
.
’
Gosh
,
sorry
,
’
he
said
,
’
where
’
s
my
manners
?
Whatever
will
you
think
of
me
?
Here
.
Have
an
anchovy
.
Please
.
’
’
Have
you
been
listening
to
me
?
’
snapped
Keli
.
’
Do
you
feel
invisible
?
In
yourself
,
I
mean
?
’
said
Gutwell
,
indistinctly
.
’
Of
course
not
.
I
just
feel
angry
.
So
I
want
you
to
tell
my
fortune
.
’
’
Well
,
I
don
’
t
know
about
that
,
it
all
sounds
rather
medical
to
me
and
—
’
’
I
can
pay
.
’
’
It
’
s
illegal
,
you
see
,
’
said
Cutwell
wretchedly
.
’
The
old
king
expressly
forbade
fortune
telling
in
Sto
Lat
.
He
didn
’
t
like
wizards
much
.
’
