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【书籍搬运】A Dance in Fire, v5 火中舞——第五章

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原文地址:http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:A_Dance_in_Fire,_v5
作者:沃金贾斯
翻译:花溪流萤

“肥皂!森林会吃爱情!一直往前!蠢货以及蠢牛!”

声音突如其来,Decumus Scotti不禁吓了一跳。他向幽暗丛林深处望去,刚才只有动物啸叫,昆虫低语,夜风呜咽的丛林中,赫然发出一阵怪声。声音口音怪异,语意晦涩,沙哑沧桑,虽然无法分辨说话生物是男是女,但是毫无疑问乃是文明生物,不是人类便是精灵。很有可能是位不是太懂赛瑞迪尔语言的波兹莫。经历数小时的单调行程,能够再次听到说话声音令他倍感亲切。

“你好?”他叫喊道

“有名字的甲虫?肯定就是昨天,没错!”那声音回应道。“是谁,什么,何时,老鼠!”

“非常遗憾,我听不懂,”Scotti边说边将头转向一棵参天树莓大树,声音正是从那后面发出。“不要害怕。我叫Decumus Scotti,来自帝都,是名帝国人。我到这里参与瓦伦森林战后重建,你瞧,我现在迷路了。”

“宝石,受虐奴隶…战争”对方开始呻吟,接着哭了起来。

“你也听过这场战争?这个我也不是特别清楚,我甚至连现在距离省界多远都不知道,”Scotti一面说着,一面扔下背包,举起双手朝着声源走去。“我没恶意,只想知道如何到达最近村庄。我想到Silvenar见位朋友。”

“Silvenar!”对方大笑。 Scotti绕树一圈,但是一无所获,笑声愈来愈大。“虫子美酒!虫子美酒!Silvenar歌颂虫子美酒!”

树的四周均都找遍,还是空无一人。“我找不到你啊。你藏到那去了?”

Scotti苦寻不得,又饿又累,为了发泄,狠狠拍了树干几下。忽然之间,一团金红从头顶树洞坠下,回过神来已被六个长度仅有数尺的有翼生物包围。这种生物无腿,拥有两个管状触角,触角两侧分别长有一只深红眼睛,一对金色薄翼不停扇动,相对袖珍翅膀来讲,腹部可谓臃肿,令人怀疑能否飞得起来。但是担心是多余的,因为它们此时正在飞上飞下,围着可怜职员盘旋飞舞,如同夜火流星。与此同时,它们嘴巴一直喋喋不休,说着毫无意义的话。

“美酒虫子,我离省界多远!学院装饰,呜哇,里奥德斯居鲁斯!”

“你好,我没恶意?烟火,最近城镇就是可爱湮灭。”

“腐肉吃下腹胀,靓蓝光轮,但是不用怕我!”

“你在躲些什么?躲什么呢?成为朋友之前,爱我,朱徕卡女士!”

Scotti难以忍受这些生物的粗劣模仿秀,双手乱挥将其赶回树梢。重又走回空地再次检视背包,毫无疑问,包中仍然没有可用物品,翻遍每个角落依旧无法找到食物。只有大量金币(他再次自嘲般的笑了,密林里面金币又有何用),平整一叠Vanech建筑委员会的空白合同,一些细绳,一顶特为避雨准备的油纸雨披。Scotti想道,还好,自己虽然倒霉,但是没有遇过暴雨。

想到这里,一声闷雷蓦地炸响,Scotti心中大骂,这几周来自己一定陷入某种诅咒中了。

接下来数小时,他穿着油纸雨披,艰难跋涉在泥泞之中。那些参天大树虽然遮天蔽日,但在瓢泼大雨以及肆虐狂风之中根本无济于事,很难阻挡雨势。磅礴雨声之外,唯一清晰可闻声音便是先前那些生物的嘲弄声,它们一路飞在上方,嘴里重复那些蠢话。Scotti边朝它们大吼,边扔石块,但它们丝毫不为所动,仍然紧紧跟着。

行到某处,他刚要捡起一块看似石头的物体扔向那些烦人生物,忽然觉得脚下一滑。潮湿泥地毫无预兆的开始向前急速滑动,他被裹挟其中,如同落叶一般被冲的上下翻腾,泥浆一路将他冲下二十五英尺的悬崖,跌进一条大河之中。

暴风雨来的急,去的也快。Scotti向着河岸游动之时,黑云已然消散,阳光倾斜在他身上,一阵温暖。河岸之上,原是一个渔村,但是刚被烧毁,断壁残垣尚有余温,毋庸置疑又是虎人杰作,中间有片灰烬区域,从残留鱼腥味可以判断原是堆鱼仓库,但如今已被付之一炬。小筏以及帆船均被损坏,不是沉入水中就是搁浅滩旁。村民或死或逃,此时村中早已一片死寂。忽然,有些东西撞在废墟断壁之上,他忙跑去观察。

原来又是那些怪物,只听其中一只说道,“我叫 Decumus Scotti,我从赛瑞迪尔来?帝都?我来帮助瓦伦林地战后重建,你瞧,我迷路了?”

“我的斑点美么,野人!”另位同伴附和着说“我看不见你,你藏哪了?”

趁着怪物喋喋不休之际,Scotti开始搜寻村庄废墟。或许那些大猫能够留下一些吃的,例如一块干肉,一片鱼肠之类。但是洗劫相当彻底,并没留下一点食物。只在一栋摇摇欲坠的石屋里找到一张石弓,两支石箭。弓弦早被大火烧掉,但他从背包中取出细线开始重新上弦。

在他上弦之时,怪物仍然不断四周盘旋:“神圣里奥德斯居鲁斯的修道院?”

“你听说过战争!虫子美酒,尊贵主人身旁盘旋,野人!”

弓弦上好之后,Scotti搭上箭支,齐胸拉满了弓,瞄向怪物。有翼怪物看来颇有对付射手经验,纷纷四散逃开。Scotti第一支箭仅仅射出三英尺远,他咒骂着捡回石箭,再次搭弓。怪物看出了他箭术糟糕,很快飞了回来,继续大加嘲讽。

忆起在Falinesti瞄向自己的弓手姿势,他的左手右手平行举起,手肘弯成一条直线,弓弦拉到鄂下,眼睛紧盯那些生物,箭矢三点一线,与眼齐平,加入这些箭术要诀以后,第二支箭好了很多,虽然偏离目标两尺,但是飞出很远,直到射到一面石墙之后断折。

Scotti来到河边,心想,自己只剩一支石箭,不如打条游速缓慢的鱼当作食物。即便失手,箭也不会折断,回收之后还能利用,这时,一条游速甚慢的长须鱼进入射程,他忙搭弓。

“我叫 Decumus Scotti!”一只有翼怪物吼道,将鱼吓走。“蠢货以及笨牛!你会在火中跳舞么!”

Scotti一气之下再次弯弓瞄向怪物,这次他还不忘加入弓手站姿,先是双脚错开七寸,双膝绷紧,左脚前探,右肩下沉,呈现一定弯角,然后射出最后一箭。

箭矢正中怪物,其余怪物见状连忙逃走,世界终于清静。他拾起猎物,升起篝火,以箭作叉,架在火上烤起这只怪物。虽然没有佐料,但是肉质吃上去仍非常鲜美。正要撕下最后一块肉时,河流转弯之处出现一只小船,船上有数名波兹莫水手,他忙跑到岸旁,挥手致意,但是水手转过头去,继续前行。

“你们这些冷血,麻木不仁的杂种!”Scotti破口大骂。“无赖!恶棍!野人!混蛋!”

一位灰胡老人走出船舱,Scotti一眼认出那正是先前商队之中一起同行的诗人及翻译家Gryf Mallon。

他看到Scotti,眼中充满喜悦,“Decumus Scotti!我正想见你呢!我想跟你探讨一下Mnoriad Pley Bar书中一段难解段落!开头是这样的‘我将泪水洒向世间,探寻奇迹’,你懂其中奥义不懂?”

“我正迫不及待想要跟你探讨这本书呢!” Scotti应道。“但能先让我上船吗?”

尽管不知船舶驶向何方,但他心中欢喜,心甘情愿的履行了上船诺言(讨论那本天书)。离开烧毁村庄之后,船只一路顺流而下,其间他既没有发问,同样只字不提自己冒险经历,只是听着Mallon关于精灵纪元艾特莫的理论讲演。诗人并不在乎自己听众是否听懂,只要对方能够点头附和或者感慨也就够了。演说途中,甚至拿出一些酒和冻鱼,和心不在焉的Scotti边吃边讲。

当Mallon暂停讲演,从笔记之中找些论据之时,Scotti终于忍不住问道,“讲句题外话,我们这是要去哪里。”

“本省中心地带,Silvenar,”Mallon读着文章,头也不抬回道。“本来我想先到Woodhearth,那有个波兹莫声称自己拥有Dirith Yalmillhiad抄本,这真旷世难逢。但是中间出现一些意外,必须等待一些时日。因为那座城市刚被夏暮群岛大军包围,那些艾特莫们妄图通过围困来试波兹莫们降服。但这主意不妙,因为波兹莫们乐于吃掉同类,等到只剩一个大腹便便的波兹莫无人可吃之时,才会举旗投降。”

“听来真糟,”Scotti悲怜的附和道。“东有虎人烧杀劫掠,西有夏暮挑起祸端。北部边境大概也不会太平吧?”

“北部更加混乱,”Mallon以指翻书,敷衍应道。“帝国人和红色守卫都在阻止波兹莫难民涌入自己行省。这也十分正常,毕竟无家可归的饥饿难民非常容易作奸犯科。”

“也就是说,” Scotti心中发麻,呐呐说道。“我们被困瓦伦林地了。”

“也不尽然。出版社为我新书订下的截稿日期日益临近,我得赶着回去。据我所知,只要向Silvenar申请特殊边境保护,就能安全抵达赛瑞迪尔。 ”

“向Silvenar申请,还是在Silvenar申请?”

“在Silvenar向Silvenar申请。这是当地奇怪文法之一,诸如此类歧义语意总是令我翻译工作充满挑战。Silvenar,或者说Silvenar们,乃是古波兹莫伟大领袖,有关他们必须注意— Mallon终于找到那段关键段落,之后读到,“‘这里!两个星期,匪夷所思,世界化为火中舞蹈’。又是暗喻。”

“刚才你说什么来着?”Scotti。“有关他们需要注意的事?”

“我早不记得了,”Mallon答道,此后继续长篇大论。

一周之后,小船在Xylo河畔一处静谧浅滩靠岸,Decumus Scotti亦首次目睹了Silvenar真容。若说Falinesti是棵巨树,那么Silvenar就是一朵大花。红绿蓝白各式花簇闪烁在透明根基之间,满目光华。Mallon讲解艾特莫诗歌间隙曾经顺道提起过Silvenar的由来,该地本市密林之中一片花地,但不知由于魔力干预还是一些自然原因,周围树木开始分泌一些黏稠树液,各色树木之间树液混着鲜花汁液不断堆积凝结,构成这座城市主体网络。Mallon所说已然令人陶醉,但是该城美丽之处着实无法言语描述。

“这里那家旅店最为舒服,最为奢华?”Scotti向其中一位波兹莫船员问道。

“Prithala会堂,”Mallon答道。“但你为何不跟我同行?我正要前去拜见一位老友,他是一位学者,你肯定会喜欢他的。他家虽然有些简陋,但对古艾特莫Sarmathi一族诗歌研究很有独到之处—”

“放在平时,我肯定会欣然接受邀请,”Scotti婉拒道。“但是最近几周,我不是打地铺,就是睡在船上,找到什么就吃什么,现在亟需尽情享受一下。再过几天,就向Silvenar 申请安全过境文牒,返回赛瑞迪尔。”

随后,两人互相道别。Gryf Mallon将出版商在帝都的地址告诉了他,Scotti欣然记下,但是很快抛之脑后。流连在Silvenar毓秀街道之上,穿行于流光溢彩树桥之间,他的心中不禁感叹自然造化。终于,在座晶莹剔透,泛着银光的宏美殿堂之前,他找到了Prithala会堂。

进去之后,他订下最舒适的房间之后,点了最奢侈的菜品吃了起来。邻桌坐着两位肥男,一个人类和波兹莫,此时正在大谈此间饭菜比Silvenar皇宫还要强上不少。随后,两人开始洽谈战争以及财务问题,并有提到战后桥梁重建工作。男人注意到有人正在望向这边,抬起头来回视Scotti,眼睛突然亮了。

“Scotti,真的是你?老天,你去哪了?没你帮助,所有合同我都只能自己签订!”

听到这里,Scotti业已认出对方。那个正在狼吞虎咽的肥男正是里奥德斯·居鲁斯。

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"Soap! The forest will eat love! Straight ahead! Stupid and a stupid cow!"
The voice boomed out so suddenly that Decumus Scotti jumped. He stared off into the dim jungle glade from which he only heard animal and insect calls, and the low whistling of wind moments before. It was a queer, oddly accented voice of indiscriminate gender, tremulous in its modulations, but unmistakably human. Or, at very least, elven. An isolated Bosmer perhaps with a poor grasp of the Cyrodilic language. After countless hours of plodding through the dense knot of Valenwood jungle, any voice of slight familiarity sounded wondrous.
"Hello?" he cried.
"Beetles on any names? Certainly yesterday yes!" the voice called back. "Who, what, and when, and mice!"
"I'm afraid I don't understand," replied Scotti, turning toward the brambled tree, thick as a wagon, where the voice had issued. "But you needn't be afraid of me. My name is Decumus Scotti. I'm a Cyrodiil from the Imperial City. I came here to help rebuild Valenwood after the war, you see, and now I'm rather lost."
"Gemstones and grilled slaves ... The war," moaned the voice and broke down into sobs.
"You know about the war? I wasn't sure, I wasn't even sure how far away from the border I am now," Scotti began slowly walking toward the tree. He dropped Reglius's satchel to the ground, and held out his empty hands. "I'm unarmed. I only want to know the way to the closest town. I'm trying to meet my friend, Liodes Jurus, in Silvenar."
"Silvenar!" the voice laughed. It laughed even louder as Scotti circled the tree. "Worms and wine! Worms and wine! Silvenar sings for worms and wine!"
There was nothing to be found anywhere around the tree. "I don't see you. Why are you hiding?"
In frustration born of hunger and exhaustion, he struck the tree trunk. A sudden shiver of gold and red erupted from a hollow nook above, and Scotti was surrounded by six winged creatures scarcely more than a few inches long. Bright crimson eyes were set on either side of tunnel-like protuberances, the animals' always open mouths. They were legless, and their thin, rapidly beating, aureate wings seemed poorly constructed to transport their fat, swollen bellies. And yet, they darted through the air like sparks from a fire. Whirling about the poor clerk, they began chattering what he now understood to be perfect nonsense.
"Wines and worms, how far from the border am I! Academic garnishments, and alas, Liodes Jurus!"
"Hello, I'm afraid I'm unarmed? Smoken flames and the closest town is dear Oblivion."
"Swollen on bad meat, an indigo nimbus, but you needn't be afraid of me!"
"Why are you hiding? Why are you hiding? Before I begin to friend, love me, Lady Zuleika!"
Furious with the mimics, Scotti swung his arms, driving them up into the treetops. He stomped back to the clearing and opened up the satchel again, as he had done some hours before. There was still, unsurprisingly, nothing useful in the bag, and nothing to eat in any corner or pocket. A goodly amount of gold (he smiled grimly, as he had done before, at the irony of being financially solvent in the jungle), a stack of neat blank contracts from Lord Vanech's building commission, some thin cord, and an oiled leather cloak for bad weather. At least, Scotti considered, he had not suffered rain.
A rolling moan of thunder reminded Scotti of what he had suspected for some weeks now. He was cursed.
Within an hour's time, he was wearing the cloak and clawing his way through mud. The trees, which had earlier allowed no sunlight in, provided no shelter against the pounding storm and wind. The only sounds that pierced the pelting of the rain were the mocking calls of the flying creatures, flitting just above, babbling their nonsense. Scotti bellowed at them, threw rocks, but they seemed enamored of his company.
While he was reaching to grab a promising looking stone to hurl at his tormentors, Scotti felt something shift beneath his feet. Wet but solid ground suddenly liquefied and became a rolling tide, rushing him forward. Light as a leaf, he flew head over feet over head, until the mudflow dropped and he continued forward, plunging down into a river twenty-five feet below.
The storm passed quite as instantly as it had arrived. The sun melted the dark clouds and warmed Scotti as he swam for the shore. There, another sign of the Khajiiti incursion into Valenwood greeted him. A small fishing village had stood there once, so recently extinct that it smoldered like a still-warm corpse. Dirt cairns that had once housed fish by the smell of them had been ravaged, their bounty turned to ash. Rafts and skiffs lay broken, scuttled, half-submerged. All the villagers were no more, either dead or refugees far away. Or so he presumed. Something banged against the wall of one of the ruins. Scotti ran to investigate.
"My name is Decumus Scotti?" sang the first winged beast. "I'm a Cyrodiil from? The Imperial City? I came here to help rebuild Valenwood after the war, you see, and now I'm rather lost?"
"I swell to maculate, apeneck!" agreed one of its companions. "I don't see you. Why are you hiding?"
As they fell into chattering, Scotti began to search the rest of the village. Surely the cats had left something behind, a scrap of dried meat, a morsel of fish sausage, anything. But they had been immaculate in their complete annihilation. There was nothing to eat anywhere. Scotti did find one item of possible use under the tumbled remains of a stone hut. A bow and two arrows made of bone. The string had been lost, likely burned away in the heat of the fire, but he pulled the cord from Reglius's satchel and restrung it.
The creatures flew over and hovered nearby as he worked: "The convent of the sacred Liodes Jurus?"
"You know about the war! Worms and wine, circumscribe a golden host, apeneck!"
The moment the cord was taut, Scotti nocked an arrow and swung around, pulling the string tight against his chest. The winged beasts, having had experience with archers before, shot off in all directions in a blur. They needn't have bothered. Scotti's first arrow dove into the ground three feet in front of him. He swore and retrieved it. The mimics, having likewise had experience with poor archers before, returned at once to hovering nearby and mocking Scotti.
On his second shot, Scotti did much better, in purely technical terms. He remembered how the archers in Falinesti looked when he pulled himself out from under the hoarvor tick, and they were all taking aim at him. He extended his left hand, right hand, and right elbow in a symmetrical line, drawing the bow so his hand touched his jawline, and he could see the creature in his sight like the arrow was a finger he was pointing with. The bolt missed the target by only two feet, but it continued on its trajectory, snapping when it struck a rock wall.
Scotti walked to the river's edge. He had only one arrow left, and perhaps, he considered, it would be most practical to find a slow-moving fish and fire it on that. If he missed, at least there was less of a chance of breaking the shaft, and he could always retrieve it from the water. A rather torpid, whiskered fish rolled by, and he took aim at it.
"My name is Decumus Scotti!" one of the creatures howled, frightening the fish away. "Stupid and a stupid cow! Will you dance a dance in fire!"
Scotti turned and aimed the arrow as he had done before. This time, however, he remembered to plant his feet as the archers had done, seven inches apart, knees straight, left leg slightly forward to meet the angle of his right shoulder. He released the last arrow.
The arrow also proved a serviceable prong for roasting the creature against the smoking hot stones of one of the ruins. Its other companions had disappeared instantly after the beast was slain, and Scotti was able to dine in peace. The meat proved to be delicious, if scarcely more than a first course. He was picking the last of it from the bones, when a boat sailed into view from around the bend of the river. At the helm were Bosmer sailors. Scotti ran to the bank and waved his arms. They averted their eyes and continued past.
"You bloody, callous bastards!" Scotti howled. "Knaves! Hooligans! Apenecks! Scoundrels!"
A gray-whiskered form came out from a hatch, and Scotti immediately recognized him as Gryf Mallon, the poet translator he had met in the caravan from Cyrodiil.
He peered Scotti's direction, and his eyes lit up with delight, "Decumus Scotti! Precisely the man I hoped to see! I want to get your thoughts on a rather puzzling passage in the Mnoriad Pley Bar! It begins 'I went weeping into the world, searching for wonders,' perhaps you're familiar with it?"
"I'd like nothing better than to discuss the Mnoriad Pley Bar with you, Gryf!" Scotti called back. "Would you let me come aboard though first?"
Overjoyed at being on a ship bound for any port at all, Scotti was true to his word. For over an hour as the boat rolled down the river past the blackened remnants of Bosmeri villages, he asked no questions and spoke nothing of his life over the past weeks: he merely listened to Mallon's theories of merethic Aldmeri esoterica. The translator was undemanding of his guest's scholarship, accepting nods and shrugs as civilized conversation. He even produced some wine and fish jelly, which he shared with Scotti absent-mindedly, as he expounded on his various theses.
Finally, while Mallon was searching for a reference to some minor point in his notes, Scotti asked, "Rather off subject, but I was wondering where we're bound."
"The very heart of the province, Silvenar," Mallon said, not looking up from the passage he was reading. "It's somewhat bothersome, actually, as I wanted to go to Woodhearth first to talk to a Bosmer there who claims to have an original copy of Dirith Yalmillhiad, if you can believe it. But for the time being, that has to wait. Summurset Isle has surrounded the city, and is in the process of starving the citizenry until they surrender. It's a tiresome prospect, since the Bosmeri are happy to eat one another, so there's a risk that at the end, only one fat wood elf will remain to wave the flag."
"That is vexing," agreed Scotti, sympathetically. "To the east, the Khajiiti are burning everything, and to the west, the High Elves are waging war. I don't suppose the borders to the north are clear?"
"They're even worse," replied Mallon, finger on the page, still distracted. "The Cyrodiils andRedguards don't want Bosmer refugees streaming into their provinces. It only stands to reason. Imagine how much more criminally inclined they'd be now that they're homeless and hungry."
"So," murmured Scotti, feeling a shiver. "We're trapped in Valenwood."
"Not at all. I need to leave fairly shortly myself, as my publisher has set a very definite deadline for my new book of translations. From what I understand, one merely petitions to the Silvenar for special border protection and one can cross into Cyrodiil with impunity."
"Petition the Silvenar, or petition at Silvenar?"
"Petition the Silvenar at Silvenar. It's an odd nomenclature that is typical of this place, the sort of thing that makes my job as a translator that much more challenging. The Silvenar, he, or rather they are the closest the Bosmeri have to a great leader. The essential thing to remember about the Silvenar --" Mallon smiled, finding the passage he was looking for, "Here! 'A fortnight, inexplicable, the world burns into a dance.' There's that metaphor again."
"What were you saying about the Silvenar?" asked Scotti. "The essential thing to remember?"
"I don't remember what I was saying," replied Mallon, turning back to his oration.
In a week's time, the little boat bumped along the shallow, calmer waters of the foaming current the Xylo had become, and Decumus Scotti first saw the city of Silvenar. If Falinesti was a tree, then Silvenar was a flower. A magnificent pile of faded shades of green, red, blue, and white, shining with crystalline residue. Mallon had mentioned off-hand, when not otherwise explainingAldmeri prosody, that Silvenar had once been a blossoming glade in the forest, but owing to some spell or natural cause, the trees' sap began flowing with translucent liqueur. The process of the sap flowing and hardening over the colorful trees had formed the web of the city. Mallon's description was intriguing, but it hardly prepared him for the city's beauty.
"What is the finest, most luxurious tavern here?" Scotti asked one of the Bosmer boatmen.
"Prithala Hall," Mallon answered. "But why don't you stay with me? I'm visiting an acquaintance of mine, a scholar I think you'll find fascinating. His hovel isn't much, but he has the most extraordinary ideas about the principles of a Merethic Aldmeri tribe the Sarmathi --"
"Under any other circumstances, I would happily accept," said Scotti graciously. "But after weeks of sleeping on the ground or on a raft, and eating whatever I could scrounge, I feel the need for some indulgent creature comforts. And then, after a day or two, I'll petition the Silvenar for safe passage to Cyrodiil."
The men bade each other goodbye. Gryf Mallon gave him the address of his publisher in the Imperial City, which Scotti accepted and quickly forgot. The clerk wandered the streets of Silvenar, crossing bridges of amber, admiring the petrified forest architecture. In front of a particularly estimable palace of silvery reflective crystal, he found Prithala Hall.
He took the finest room, and ordered a gluttonous meal of the finest quality. At a nearby table, he saw two very fat fellows, a man and a Bosmer, remarking how much finer the food was there than at the Silvenar's palace. They began to discuss the war and some issues of finances and rebuilding provincial bridges. The man noticed Scotti looking at them, and his eyes flashed recognition.
"Scotti, is that you? Kynareth, where have you been? I've had to make all the contacts here on my own!"
At the sound of his voice, Scotti recognized him. The fat man was Liodes Jurus, vastly engorged.

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