'Right, fine, okay, ' he said wearily. 'If that's how we're going to do it, that's how we're going to do it. If we get a dragon six inches long we'll all know the reason why. Won't we, Brother Plasterer. Brother Plasterer? Sorry. I didn't hear what you said? Brother Plasterer?'
'I said yes, Supreme Grand Master, ' whispered Brother Plasterer.
'Very well. So long as that's quite understood. ' The Supreme Grand Master turned and picked up the book.
'And now, ' he said, 'if we are all quite ready... '
'Um. ' Brother Watchtower meekly raised his hand.
'Ready for what, Supreme Grand Master?' he said.
'For the summoning, of course. Good grief, I should have thought-'
'But you haven't told us what we're supposed to do, Supreme Grand Master, ' whined Brother Watch-tower.
The Grand Master hesitated. This was quite true, but he wasn't going to admit it.
'Well, of course, ' he said. 'It's obvious. You have to focus your concentration. Think hard about dragons, ' he translated. 'All of you. '
'That's all, is it?' said Brother Doorkeeper.
'Yes. '
'Don't we have to chant a mystic prune or something?'
The Supreme Grand Master stared at him. Brother Doorkeeper managed to look as defiant in the face of oppression as an anonymous shadow in a black cowl could look. He hadn't joined a secret society not to chant mystic runes. He'd been looking forward to it.
'You can if you like, ' said the Supreme Grand Master. 'Now, I want you — yes, what is it, Brother Dunnykin?'
The little Brother lowered his hand. 'Don't know any mystic prunes, Grand Master. Not to what you might call chant... '
'Hm!'
He opened the book.
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