Strong seals require blood, hair or skin. Fine, where this well stands there used to be a house. “I may not be a Sheikah,” I said, rolling up the sleeves of my ruined purple shirt, “but I’m very good at keeping secrets. “Have you never heard curiosity killed the Mask Salesman?” Giving the rope a tug, the wooden bucket rattled. I hurried over and stood beneath the sloping tiled roof. “When the shadow beast comes bind him with all your strength.” The creak of the windmill’s sails eerily wound like clockwork behind it. “Ronri, wait over there.” She pointed to a quaint, little well. We need to deal with him, now.” Impa made a collection of hand signs. Even I wasn’t immune to the intrigue of hidden Sheikah treasure. Should word of their secrets reach the ears of treasure hunters they would be overrun. After all the trouble we took to get it back from the Gerudo, he can whistle.” So this Happy Mask Salesman tells me.” Impa jabbed a thumb in my direction. “Did those desert barbarians do this to him?” The male Sheikah stared at Bongo Bongo in disbelief. A pair of enormous goggles with one of the lenses looking left and the other to the right, which reminded me of some demented chameleon. Robbie had white hair that stood on end as if in permanent electric shock. “I had no choice, Robbie,” she replied tartly. “What peril have you brought to our doorstep?” one of the Sheikah demanded. The males preferred a more subtle tribal print below the lower eyelid. Some of the females had painted the same tearful eye from the Gossip Stones on their foreheads. Their tight clothes emphasized this fact, the Shadow of the Royal Family were not to be taken lightly. As a race they were tall and slim, however, no one could miss the lean muscle packed into those arms and legs.
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