soft-clack, untranslated. The gand pauses on the mosaic of a whirling, asteroid-chocked blue star and politely steps aside, returning the lead to Cal Domaru (if he wants).
click slur clacketty slur clacketty, guttural jumble drone clicketty click "How soon will The Presence be a problem for these ones, does Kacela and Reks Seviir know?"
Her voice sounds tiny in the hugeness of the room, devoured by airy, all-surrounding darkness, distorted into faint, malicious echoes off faraway walls...