"... but I thought, perhaps ... couldn't you send a message about us?"
Guthrie regarded the crowd of Skirkhi, who gaped back with gleaming eyes and hanging jaws. Old Thyggar raised a thick, four-fingered hand at him and demanded, "What do they say?"
"Later, Old One," retorted Guthrie, turning to look at the girl.
"Oh—this is Miss Norsund," Trent explained. "Listen, if you don't want to send a message, couldn't you have some of these people guide us?"
"First," said Guthrie, "travel is dangerous. You might get eaten or made into window-flaps. Secondly, I don't know where they could guide you to."
He let them absorb that, then went on.
"And I can't send any message because I don't know the right spells and incantations to summon any good spirits to carry the message."
Trent and Miss Norsund began to develop glassy stares.
"And finally," growled Guthrie, "they won't let me send a spirit message because they're saving me for the first night with no moon!"
A subdued chattering sprang up among the Skirkhi when they heard his voice rise to a shout. Guthrie controlled his accumulated frustration with an effort. Meeting the girl's shocked glance, he felt a twinge, and knew he had better stop.