"Uh, yeah, very good indeed," Wayne said. "And in only three weeks! Now, Mr.—you don't mind if I call you O'Reilly, do you? Well, then, O'Reilly, do you have any suggestions as to how I should go about getting you a high dragon bump? You want me to make you one? Or—"
"Yukon mike?" O'Reilly asked.
Wayne shrugged modestly. "Of course. With proper materials and equipment—and enough time." He wondered if there was any chance at all of convincing O'Reilly of that.
"Nod mush timeless," O'Reilly said doubtfully. "God gut lab tarry, few wand lug."
Wayne hesitated, partly to translate O'Reilly's rumblings and partly to marvel at an audacious idea taking shape in his mind.
He said, "Uh, yes, by all means. I do want to look at your laboratory. Let's go."
The Cirissin offered no objections to Sheilah accompanying them, so they followed him, pulling themselves along the tubular corridor by means of metal rings set in the walls, apparently for that specific purpose.
It was the same means of propulsion employed by their guide, except that he used tentacles instead of hands.
They were more awkward than he, and so they fell behind.
"Listen, mister," Sheilah said. "You're not really gonna help these creeps, are ya? Cause, I mean, if you are I'm gonna stop you—one way or another."