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Concentrate
on
the
hairbrush
,
man
,
the
hairbrush
.
’
Just
a
bit
of
magical
experimenting
,
ma
’
am
.
Only
superficial
burns
.
’
’
Is
it
still
moving
?
’
’
I
am
afraid
so
.
’
Keli
turned
back
to
the
mirror
.
Her
face
was
set
.
’
Have
we
got
time
?
’
This
was
the
bit
he
’
d
been
dreading
.
He
’
d
done
everything
he
could
.
The
Royal
Astrologer
had
been
sobered
up
long
enough
to
insist
that
tomorrow
was
the
only
possible
day
the
ceremony
could
take
place
,
so
Cutwell
had
arranged
for
it
to
begin
one
second
after
midnight
.
He
’
d
ruthlessly
cut
the
score
of
the
royal
trumpet
fanfare
.
He
’
d
timed
the
High
Priest
’
s
invocation
to
the
gods
and
then
subedited
heavily
;
there
was
going
to
be
a
row
when
the
gods
found
out
.
The
ceremony
of
the
anointing
with
sacred
oils
had
been
cut
to
a
quick
dab
behind
the
ears
.
Skateboards
were
an
unknown
invention
on
the
Disc
;
if
they
hadn
’
t
been
,
Keli
’
s
trip
up
the
aisle
would
have
been
unconstitutionally
fast
.
And
it
still
wasn
’
t
enough
.
He
nerved
himself
.
’
I
think
possibly
not
,
’
he
said
.
’
It
could
be
a
very
close
thing
.
’
He
saw
her
glare
at
him
in
the
mirror
.
’
How
close
?
’
’
Um
.
Very
.
’
