The tribe clustered up behind Masklin, as they always did now when they were worried.
The Abbot's guest hall was an area walled with cardboard, near one of the lifts. Occasionally one went past, shaking down some dust.
The Abbot was helped to his chair and sat down slowly, while his assistants fussed around him. Then he leaned forward.
'Ah,' he said, 'Del Icatessen, isn't it? Invented anything lately?' 'Not lately, my lord,' said Dorcas. 'My lord, I have the honour to present to you-' 'I can't see anyone,' said the Abbot, smoothly.
'Must be blind,' sniffed Granny.
'And I can't hear anyone, either,' said the Abbot. 'Be quiet,' Dorcas hissed. 'Someone's told him about you! He won't let himself see you! My lord,' he said loudly, turning back, 'I bring strange news. The Store is going to be demolished!' It didn't have quite the effect Masklin had expected. The Stationeri priests behind the Abbot sniggered to themselves, and the Abbot permitted himself a faint smile.
'Dear me,' he said. 'And when is this terrible event likely to occur?' 'In twenty-one days, my lord.' Well, then,' said the Abbot in a kindly voice, 'you run along now and, afterwards, tell us what it was like.' This time the priests grinned.
'My lord, this is no-' The Abbot raised a gnarled hand. 'I'm sure you know a great deal about electricity, Dorcas, but you must know that every time there is a Grand Final Sale excitable people say "The end of the Store is nigh". And, strangely enough, life goes on.' - Masklin felt the Abbot's gaze on him. For someone who was invisible, he seemed to be attracting considerable attention.
'My lord, it is rather more than that,' said Dorcas stiffly.
'Oh? Did the electricity tell you?' said the Abbot mockingly.
Dorcas nudged Masklin in the ribs. 'Now,' he said.