The other burgher, who had said nothing thus far, broke in: "Presenuk prajolik solda, soldama mera per ladsua hrutkal; per stanisch felemetskje droschnovar."
"Exactly," said the other man. "You okay now, Bud?"
"Ulp," Hugh said. "Yes, I'm all right."
The crowd, still roaring its ambiguous cheer, was following the procession out the other end of the square, and shortly Hugh found himself standing almost alone. A sign over a nearby shop caught his eye: Dr. ffoni, Licensed Magician. Here was what he had been looking for. As he ran quickly across the square toward the rickety building, he thought he caught a glimpse out of the tail of his eyes of a top hat moving along in the departing crowd; but he dismissed it. That could wait.
The shop was dark inside, and at first he thought it empty. But in answer to repeated shouts a scrambling began in the back room, and a nondescript little man entered, struggling into a long dark gown several sizes too large for him.
"Sorry," he puffed, trying to regain his right hand, which he had lost down the wrong sleeve, "out watching the parade. May I serve you, young sir?"
"Yes. I'm a transportee, and I'd like to get back where I belong."
"So would we all, so would we all, indeed," said the magician, nodding vigorously. "Junior!"
"Yes, paw." A gawky adolescent peered out of the back room.