The waitrat sat up and pointed at Asar-Suti with a paw, as if renouncing all responsibility for usca and/or accusing Asar-Suti of attempted poisoning.

"Yes, Everard, it's all right - I'll conjure him some," Asar-Suti said.

He drew a squiggle in the air with his raised forefinger; there were some purple sparks, and then he held a small clay cup containing a clear, slightly yellowed liquid that smelled strongly and roughly of alcohol.

"Here you are - usca," he said to the depressed fellow.