Old Rthfrdia

13

Old Rthfrdia

    “Now!” said Leader Lord Vt R’aam briskly. “Let me look at you all!”

    Glumly the assembled company let him look at them. The garments weren’t Old Rthfrdian as such, though any being might have been excused for assuming it, since Old Rthfrdia, or at least the parts of it where they were headed, was under ten IG fluh of snow. No, Leader Vt R’aam, having cosied up to the Norton Federal judge encountered at the uncloning hearing, had had these pwlded over from Urrgaynia II, the Norton home-world, which was usually under ten IG fluh of snow. (He was out of his Admiral’s uniform so presumably there’d been a breach—how serious no-one was asking—with Space Fleet Command.)

    “Sir—” began Vt R’aam Thirty-Two uncomfortably, as my Lord settled the heavy fur-lined cloak over his shoulders.

    “Now, now, now!” he said briskly. “Everyone wears heavy cloaks on Old Rthfrdia, y’know!”

    “That thing underneath it looks like a dress,” noted Su sourly.

    “Rubbish! Male Norton wear, perfectly acceptable as a coat! And boots underneath it, d’you see?” Shank’yar held out one shapely leg. Yeah, well. The garment had no opening at the front except for the split in the skirt up to the knee on the right-hand side, and in fact was blob-fastened down the back, and in short, it was a dress.

    “I’ve never seen a coat that had fur just there,” noted Su pointedly if untruthfully, glaring at the wide strip of fur on the Norton garment, at about the level of Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s genitals.

    “Eh? Rubbish, my pet, it’s a Norton fur belt, keeps the cobblers warm!” said her father with a robust laugh.

    Su groaned, and sank down onto the nearest flop couch. This was another of Dad’s personae: the jolly lordship bit, even worse than the Fleet Admiral bit. In fact, even worse than the off-hand gourmet bit. It wasn’t absolutely clear why the prospect of Galaxy Day on Old Rthfrdia had brought it on, but there was no doubt it had. The garments were awful—awful. Very heavy and very, very hot. For both males and females they basically consisted of two layers, the heavy fur-lined cloak and the dress. As well as the wide fur belt the male dresses featured matching wide fur cuffs, reaching halfway to the elbows, and a narrow band of fur trim on the hem. And they were not coats, they were tight, you couldn’t have worn more than a clingo-suit under them. Shank’yar’s own outfit was steel-blue, the fur trimming the dress and lining the long cloak being very thick and shiny, silver-tipped black. The outfit he’d forced Vt R’aam Thirty-Two into was bright scarlet with brown fur that looked incredibly soft, thick and warm, and in it the ex-clone looked as if he might explode at any moment—not only from the embarrassment, the temperature in the penthouse of the Academica Astoria on Booj’lly, which was where they were, was that of a pleasant spring day back home on New Whtyll.

    His Lordship had very kindly asked the former clone if he’d like to bring a friend from the Academy, so gee, he’d brought one. Not the pleasant Meanker from across the hall, no. A green-crested Nblyterian in her/s female stage: the Second-Year that Su and BrTl had seen making a fool of herself with him, exactly. Cadet harderardarB uw jineL. His Jolly Lordshipness hadn’t overlooked her, no, sir. He’d provided cloaks and female Norton dresses for her and Su. They were like the male ones except that they were a smidgen longer, touching the ankles kind of thing, had no band of fur round the hem, and instead of the fur belts had wide fur collars that came down to just below the tits. Made ya so hot ya felt you were gonna explode—right. The get-up he’d forced the stunned jineL into was lime green, brighter and lighter than her crest, and the fur was a kind of reddish-orange, tipped with gold, and in it she looked, acksherly, completely stunning. If hot. Su’s was icky pale blue and totally feeble and namby-pamby, and the thick, soft fur was fluffy pale grey and she looked totally ridiculous in it. She squirmed out of the cloak and dumped it on the couch.

    “Now, come along , Su-Su, stand up nicely and let me look at you.”

    Su stood up, perforce, and let him drape the cloak over her shoulders and check that she had her new gloves. Then jineL got the same treatment, but she didn’t appear to mind. In fact she informed him that she’d never had such comfortable boots, and he smirked.

    Then—great steaming Vvlvanian magma pits!—BrTl hadda get the treatment!

    “Dad, he doesn’t need a fur-lined cloak, he is furry, and anyway he’s got a uniform cl—”

    Right, it was very cold on Old Rthfrdia—much colder than BrTl remembered it, it was midwinter there now—and blah, blah, blah…

    Just when he’d finished inspecting them and was wondering where J’f was, an s-being bowed him in.

    Su gulped. Mum was right: Uncle J’f was a dead ringer for her brother Wm! Short, slim, and in fact Mum’s word, “dapper”, was spot-on. Of course he was a lot older than Wm, though he’d clearly had almost as many nips and tucks as Aunty Lle’onee’ya. Gee, funny they’d got divorced, eh? ’Cos after two IG microseconds it was blindingly obvious they were exactly alike! In fact BrTl was sending it: A twinned pair of Feeny-Argyllians, eh? Me and Trff always thought so. And Trff was agreeing: Yes, we did, figuratively speaking.

    It took ages for the greetings and, on Uncle J’f’s part, the fawning to die away, but finally it did and they all opened the gifts he’d brought them—not Galaxy Day gifts, just “little somethings,” because after all they’d come all the way from the Third Galaxy! The gifts might have been little, but they were very expensive, and there was even one for jineL, and after the embarrassed thanks had died away he hadda get into a Norton get-up, too! His Jolly Lordshipness thought he’d remembered his colouring right, jolly laugh, and he seemed to recall Jhl had mentioned he was very fond of gold shades, jolly laugh! BrTl seemed to remember that Jhl’s word had been “sickening” but possibly only Trff and Su picked that up. Anyway, it was a deep gold and the fur was a soft yellowy colour with black spots and Uncle J’f was thrilled, so that was all right.

    Just as well Jhl didn’t come over, sent BrTl mournfully.

    Yeah, agreed Su glumly.

    Yeah, agreed Trff glumly.

    Yeah, agreed Vt R’aam Thirty-Two glumly, and the three of them jumped ten IG fluh where they stood.

    And as they were ready, they went.

    Where are the aides and secretaries and things? asked BrTl cautiously as the lifter that had been hovering one BrTllian finger’s width above the flat roof of the hotel just outside the penthouse door whisked them away to the spaceport.

    Frowning, Su replied: I made him give them a holiday.

    Oh, good! Er—hang on, those aides were actual Space Fleet, would they have been due for leave? Oh, well, a Fleet Admiral’s word was no doubt law in that as well as everything else. He glanced involuntarily at Leader Vt R’aam in his furred non-uniform garments, and winced. Almost everything else. Well, dare say that Ma’manker would’ve been real glad to get home for Galaxy Day, they usually have big ending-sizzles on Galaxy Day! he sent cheerfully.

    The day after: Sizzling Day, corrected Trff.

    It’s right, actually. Humungous piles of pancakes, explained BrTl. On both days.

    “Pancakes?” asked Vt R’aam Thirty-Two, leaning forward with a smile.

    BrTl could remember Old Rthfrdia quite well. “Don't get your hopes up,” he advised.

    “The meat was good,” said Trff kindly.

    “Yeah, that’s true. No pancakes, though.”

    “Pies?” asked jineL hopefully.

    BrTl gave a short, sharp bark of bitter laughter. Oops! “Thanks, Trff,” he said gratefully as the Loogher immediately fell into a peaceful doze that a being could only hope was gonna last the entire— Ooh, would it? Good on ya, Trff!

    “Does it make that noise often?” croaked the Nblyterian, rubbing her ears.

    “Often enough,” replied BrTl grimly. “If you were hoping for anything resembling quoshy pie, Nblyterian, you can stop now.”

    Her pale greenish-yellow face fell. “Oh. Uh—nymbo chee—”

    “Ho, ho, ho and Happy Galaxy to you, too.”

    “Right. Goddit,” she croaked.

    After a moment Vt R’aam Thirty-Two offered: “Mn-mns come from there, don’t they?”

    “Not from under twenty IG fluh of snow they don’t, I’m pretty sure, Whtyllian,” replied BrTl genially.

    Vt R’aam Thirty-Two blinked. “I—I’m not really a Whtyllian, Commander.”

    “Yes, you are, inside.”

    “That’s right!” agreed Trff brightly. “You-it’s nearly normal, now, too!”

    “But I—” He bit his lip and fell silent, frowning.

    “Well, if you’re not, what are you?” asked BrTl calmly.

    “I— Just humanoid, I suppose,” he said in a small voice.

    Shank’yar was chatting cosily with J’f—about play-beings of the two galaxies they had both known, apparently: the titles were coming thick and fast like a swarm of muggo bugs. At this he turned his head. “Nonsense, dear boy!” he said with a robust laugh. “Of course you’re Whtyllian—as Whtyllian as I am! Forget all that clone nonsense!”

    Vt R’aam Thirty-Two tried to smile. “Mm. Thank you, my Lord,” he said with difficulty.

    “Nothing to thank me for,” he replied with horrid geniality. “No, as I was saying, m’dear J’f, His Holiness Jadd Karva Norafon III was actually a full sibling of Jadd Nohshal Rurbito, but of course they didn’t give it out, once the being had made Full Admiral, it could have been—”

    And blah, blah, blah…

    It was a long way to Old Rthfrdia but they weren’t going to take a series of ferries—although they could have, there was quite a regular service—and they weren’t even going to take one of the tourist liners, not even a pleasure liner with a VIP section. Nope, it was a luxurious private interplanetary vehicle, World Leaders for the use of—this generation’s answer to the Moodra Dyhillias BrTl and Trff remembered him jaunting round the two galaxies in way back when—oh, and the Addra Reonias, too, that was right, Trff, though the model wasn’t a need-to-know—was it, Trff? A how much? A Starburst V-A. Simple and snappy. And doubtless the echo of “Starburst Building” (Space Fleet Command Headquarters, exactly) was a pure coincidence, ho, ho, ho, and Happy Galaxy to you-it, too! However, whatever there might have been or might not have been on Old Rthfrdia there was certainly nymbo cheese pie on this here luxurious Starburst V-A, so BrTl accepted a large helping, make that two large helpings, save the being coming back with its tray, and settled himself comfortably…

    The young Nblyterian had been looking round in a sort of daze. She sat down on a flop couch next to Su’s and smiled at her nervously. “Hey, this is something like, eh?”

    “Like what?” replied Su grimly.

    “Uh—dunno! I’ve never been in anything fancier than a ferry. Does your Dadda always travel like this?”

    Su would’ve pretended she didn’t understand the Nblyterian term for “Dad” but as she was pretty sure the being could read her, didn’t. “When Mum’s not around to stop him, yeah.”

    “That’s your Mumma, huh? Yeah, thought so. My Mumma’s like that, too!” she said, cheering up and grinning at her.

    Mum was nothing like a Nblyterian matriarch and certainly nothing like the tall, broad-shouldered, grim-jawed C.P.O. Su was getting a very vivid picture of, but she said nothing.

    “Hey, is it all right to take these cloaks off now?” asked jineL in a lowered voice.

    “Eh? Oh—sure,” said Su dully.

    Sighing in relief, jineL removed her cloak. “Hey, is Vt R’aam Thirty-Two really a Whtyllian?” she hissed.

    “Well, his original was a Whtyllian,” admitted Su sourly. “Probably just as bad as he is.”

    Vt R’aam Thirty-Two was somewhere up the back of the luxurious cabin laughing and joking with the female mammalian stewardesses. One friymanoid, one Nblyterian and one humanoid, if it mattered. The friymanoid was naturally blue, the Nblyterian was tinted a shade darker than her and the humanoid a shade darker than that, and they all had silver hair—well, a crest in the Nblyterian’s case—and gee, the vehicle’s décor was blue and silver, fancy that. They were all wearing silver clingo-suits, welded to the curves.

    “Uh—yeah,” said jineL, glancing over her shoulder. “Well, he’s sure got more go in him than the average Nblyterian in her/s male stage!”

    “I dare say,” said Su sourly.

    JineL looked at her uncertainly. “Hey, look, if he’s yours, just say, and I’ll sheer off.”

    “What? No!” said Su, going very red. “Of course he’s not— He’s all yours, and you’re welcome to him!”

    “Oh. Well, good. Uh—probably just as well,” she said with an uneasy grin, “because I’d say the phrase ‘exclusive relationship’, or even the phrase ‘a two’ wasn’t in his vocabulary! Well, everybody experiments, when they’re at the Academy!” she added, as Su said nothing.

    “I dare say. If you ask the arm of your flop couch it’ll give you an audio-blob,” said Su on a grim note.

    “Gee, will it! For free? Wow! Uh—what of, though?”

    “Anything,” said Su grimly, putting one in her ear. “Just tell it what you want.”

    “Really? Gee—galaxious!” she discovered, putting one in her ear.

    Something like that—yeah. Su leaned back and determinedly closed her eyes, not bothering to change the horrible tinkly Whtyllian music her blob was playing because she didn’t, frankly, give a cptt-rvvr’s fart what it played.

    Old Rthfrdia’s spaceport was okay. Well, the bits they saw were sickeningly luxurious. And there was nothing wrong with the hire lifter they got into to go to wherever it was the cognate lived. Trff had quite a vivid picture of what it thought was the place but the senior cognate told it kindly that what that was, was Jhl’s picture of the being’s “hunting lodge” (what that was, unspecified) and they were headed for his chief residence, so it shut up like a dendrion nut. Or, emanated bafflement like the rest of the company—yes.

    Leader Lord Vt R’aam himself was driving—well, hated to be driven, and BrTl for one could certainly sympathise with that—and very, very soon they had left the city behind (what there was of it; it was bigger than Trff and BrTl remembered it but still not even as big as Bluell City) and, since the weather was worsening (or this was what he offered as an excuse) were—WHOOSH!—in hyperdrive. North, was the direction in which they were flying—at least according to the lifter’s blobs, and Trff and BrTl saw no reason to doubt them in this instance. It was winter in the northern hemisphere of Old Rthfrdia. At one point Trff reminded BrTl that they had been in the north before, but without conviction. Certainly what BrTl remembered was sitting on a grassy slope, very high up, surrounded by nice green grass mixed with unfortunate pinkish plants. Purplish, had they been, Trff? Same difference. There had been a smell. Particles coming off the plants? Well, if you-it says so. Be that as it might, there was no grass in sight now. In fact, no green at all. What was in sight, they saw as they came out of hyperdrive—WHOOSH! VRROOM!—was white. White with the odd bit of twisted brown or black sticking out of it. BrTl shuddered, and hunched into his heavy fur-lined cloak.

    “We won’t fly in to Drouwh’s place: too many trees, Vvlvanian-cursed dangerous in this sort of weather!” said Leader Vt R’aam breezily, suddenly swooping in the direction of down. He was right, they saw as they got lower: what looked like great stretches of snow-covered plain was actually great stretches of snow-covered forest. Help.

    “Those are evergreen trees: lots of them in the forests round the old place on Whtyll, too, Su-Su!” he explained breezily.

    “Um, yes,” agreed Su dubiously.

    “There’s a village hereabouts,” he said, peering. “Everyone look for a village square!”

    The emanations of bewilderment were almost tangible.

    “Oh!” he said with a laugh. “Well, look for a few scattered houses, bit like the village near our house, Su-Su, but the roofs’ll all be covered in snow, of course!”

    They were up above the place, and everything was covered in snow. How were they going to identify roofs? Everybody stared anxiously out of the ports.

    “There!” gasped V R’aam Thirty-Two at last.

    “Eh? No, no, my boy, you’ve got the wrong end of the ban-ban-ban!”—Jolly laugh.—“That’s a boathouse: that flat area’s a lake! –Iced up,” he said to the emanations of bewilderment.

    “How far north are we?” gasped Su in horror.

    “Mm? Oh—nowhere near the North Pole, my pet, this isn’t like home!”

    “It’s awfully like Bluellia,” said J’f faintly.

    “Oh, absolutely, dear fellow! Winters are even longer here, y’know! –Could land on the lake, depends how thick the ice is—but I won’t chance it!” Jolly laugh. “The village must be somewhere near.” He swooped down.

    “Look out!” gasped jineL involuntarily.

    “Missed it by an IG glp!” he said with a jolly laugh. “Don’t worry, Cadet, I've been flying a lifter since Athlor Kadry was a kid!” Jolly laugh.

    Just as certain beings were beginning to feel they’d scream if he produced one more jolly laugh he spotted the village and swooped down, to land as lightly as a feather on what they could all now see must be the village square. Well, it was flat and square, not nearly as big as Slwynchizziya Square in Intergalactica Central, of course, or even Main Square at home, but still identifiably a square, and surrounded by small, low buildings. “Here’s the inn!” he said cheerfully, drawing up outside one of the slightly larger buildings.

    “Federation, Shank’yar, I think it’s on fire!” gasped J’f.

    “No, no, m’dear fellow, you’ve got the wrong end of the ban-ban-ban! They don't go in for blobs much, here. That’ll be the cooking fire! –No culture-pans,” he said to the loud emanations of bewilderment from both J’f and jineL.

    “Um, yeah, we don’t always use culture-pans at home, either, Uncle J’f,” admitted Su. “But First Cook Kadry’s cook-fire doesn’t smoke like that, Dad!”

    “Mm? Oh, dare say they’ve got a fire going in the bar!” Jolly laugh. “Come on, out we get, you’ll see! They’ll be able to give us a warm drink and a bite and tell us if the road’s clear to Keep Mk-L’ster. Now, girls, pull your hoods up over your heads—that’s right!” He produced the Whtyllian fur hat which certain beings had silently stigmatised at the beginning of their journey as really silly and pulled it well down. Hurriedly J’f and Vt R’aam Thirty-Two followed suit. “Come along, Commander, now is no time to be coy!”

    “No,” admitted BrTl, assuming his Whtyllian fur hat. The hair on top of his head always had been rather thin, and all right, his Lordship had been right all along: these huge fluffy hats were really, really warm.

    And, huddled into their thickly fur-lined and hooded cloaks (female), or their thickly fur-lined cloaks and big round Whtyllian fur hats (male), or just hunched around its FW pack (Trff), they got out of the lifter and dashed into the inn. BrTl carried the Loogher, it didn’t seem worth arguing about and anyway, the being was fast asleep, thanks to a certain vlohffert spherical fluffy being currently sending loud messages to its FW pack to keep its tentacles warm as it dashed into the inn.

    Certain beings then realised that an inn was a primmo qwlot bar! In fact, not unlike the qwlot houses patronised by Bhl Smt Wong, his distant cognate M’km R’sn Smt, and all the other adult males in the environs of Frog Creek! And after the gasping and recoiling at the sight of the naked flame in the fireplace had been got over and all the beings from the Third Galaxy had explained to jineL and J’f that it wouldn’t hurt them, it wasn’t like the free-fires of Vvlvania, they collapsed onto primitive wooden seating or just onto the floor, according to the physique, and allowed Leader Vt R’aam to offer them anything he pleased. Steaming glasses of a watered-down local intoxicant, was about it.

    Hot cotty? sent Trff in a muddled sort of way. Does you-it remember, BrTl? Dohra drank that on the third moon of Pkqwrd, that time.

    Oh, that time! –Thought that was feverfew tea?

    That as well. Ooh, it’s remembered! “Sir, there is a local drink that it can drink,” it said quickly, just as his Lordship was about to bawl out the unfortunate local qwlot-bar owner.

    “Trff, are you sure?”

    “Yes, the Old Woman of Slrw gave it to it.”

    At this the Old Rthfrdian qwlot-bar owner, his bond-partner, who had been telling Leader Vt R’aam what she could feed them on, and a younger female cognate of theirs all gasped and made surreptitious appendage-gestures.

    Warding off evil, sent Leader Vt R’aam drily. Well, it is pretty much a primmo, still. “Well, if she gave it you, it’ll be fine, Trff. But can you remember what it was?”

    “I remember it stank,” offered BrTl.

    “That leaves a fair bit of leeway,” he noted drily, lapsing rather from the jolly lordship bit.

    “Khyai’llh tea!” produced Trff proudly. “Very suited to the metabolism, sir!”

    “Well?” said Shank’yar to the inn-keeper’s goggling bond-partner.

    “Oh! Yes, indeed, Lord, I’ll brew up a nice pot of the khyai’llh straight away! Excuse me, Lord,” she said in a lowered voice. “Will it be drinking out of the cup, then?”

    “Out of anything you would normally serve it in,” he said with his nicest smile.

    “Right you are, Lord! Coming up right away!” she beamed, bustling out.

    “I had no idea," said J’f limply, folding his cloak back over his shoulders but not going so far as to remove it.

    “Mm? No, well, you have to see it, dear fellow! They’ve only been in the Federation for about thirty IG years, of course. And between you and me, if it wasn’t for their deposits of pwld, I doubt if they’d’ve been admitted at all! Fewer than point zero, zero one percent of the population have any mind-powers, y’know. Mind you, the upper classes are reasonably civilised, these days. That time Jhl was on-world when the dump was pre-Fed,”—this was IG-illegal: certain beings winced and had to make an effort not to close their visual organs—“they didn’t even have senso-tissues!” Jolly laugh.

    “Nuh-no senso-tissues?” he croaked. “What about the hygiene cabinets, though?”

    “Never heard of ’em, my dear fellow! Well, once J’rd’s opened a branch all that changed in the cities, but the country folk still live pretty much the life they lived back when wild bears roamed the planet and the people dug fire-pits round the villages to keep ’em out! The bears have all gone—though one does still get very decent hunting,” he noted by the by, “but nothing much else has changed in these little backwaters! But Drouwh’s place isn’t so bad—not saying it isn’t cold and draughty, mind: no blob-heating except in the bedrooms and the few rooms they actually live in,” he said, grinning at him, “but of course he’s got hygiene cabinets, that sort of thing!”

    “Thank the Federation!” said J’f with feeling.

    Shank’yar had removed his cloak. He strolled over to the fireplace, lifted the tail of his dress, and warmed his backside. To those from the Third Galaxy this was merely normal, but both J’f and jineL gasped and shrank, at the sight of a being so near to the naked flame. “Wait until you taste the two-hundred-year-old uissh his great-grandfather laid down! Satin finish to it; rolls off the tongue! Better than the best aged qwlot I’ve ever tasted! This muck,”—he nodded disparagingly at their empty glasses—“is raw as a grqwary herder’s lass: straight off the hills!”

    “Dad!” cried Su indignantly.

    “Mm? Oh—sorry. It’s just a country image, wouldn’t think twice about using it on Whtyll.”

    “You’re not on Whtyll now, and don’t use it again!”

    “I’ll try not to,” he said meekly, with a quick wink at J’f. “You’ll find some of the local dishes interesting, J’f: some unique local produce. Once had a sort of fruit pie—turned out it isn’t an actual fruit, it’s the stalks of a plant that only grows up in these northern parts—does well near the sea. You’d probably like it, jineL,” he said smiling at the startled Nblyterian: “a bit like quoshy pie, but very much tarter. They add a lot of sugar, or the local honey. Ever had Wurratonoonian desert lemonberry pie?”

    “Nuh-nossir!” she stuttered.

    “Bit like that. Same delicious contrast of sweet and tart.”

    “That sounds promising!” said J’f with a laugh.

    “Mm,” he agreed, smiling. “’Nother one? HOY! LANDLORD!” he bellowed. He then genially informed the company that this reminded him very much of the village taverns near his home on Whtyll, but by this time no-one needed to be told, really. He was, clearly, well away.

    The road to Keep Mk-L’ster was, apparently, out to ground-cars, and the Lord wouldn’t be able to land his lifter up thataway, not in this weather. Informing them briskly that it was an ancient edifice, quite interesting, both architecturally and archaeologically—this didn’t sit too well with the jolly lordship persona but no-one remarked on it aloud—Shank’yar made robust enquiries, ascertained what transport was available, and, handing out vast quantities of largess in all directions—in some cases the recipients had never before seen a Federation ig but by now anything else would have astonished the company—bundled them into it.

    It was an open vehicle, attached to four placid, sturdy quadrupedal beings of an intelligence level, whatever the Intergalactic Sentient Life-Forms (Beings/Group Beings) Definition and Classification Act might say, considerably above Phyoowella’s. After some thought BrTl remembered the ones that Rh’aiiy’hn had once owned (or who, more strictly speaking, had thought of him as their humanoid). Of course! This was the planet where they had them.

    “Horses,” said Shank’yar briskly. “Was thinking of bringing a few out to New Whtyll. Once you’ve solved the problem of the PBTTs, Trff, might have some breeding stock sent out. Jhl likes riding—did quite a bit of it that time she was on Whtyll. Gave you some decent mounts, did they, Su-Su? Raj always enjoyed riding.”

    “Nuh—uh, you mean riding on beings like these, Dad?” she croaked, huddling into her fur-lined cloak. “I never saw anyone do that!”

    “What? Dashed waste of an opportunity! Well, definitely think about bringing some out. Now, everyone comfortable? Terribly sorry, Commander, the vehicles are to humanoid scale in the villages here—’fraid you’ll have to lope. Just let me see those boots, would you?”

    BrTl didn’t hold out a foot, he realised just in time that Leader Vt R’aam wasn’t looking with his eyes.

    “Good. Space Issue,” said Shank’yar with satisfaction. “You’ll be right! Tell that Expedition-level FW pack to watch out for your shin-hair all the same, mm?” He mounted nimbly onto the vehicle beside the driver. “Everybody settled? Right, All’yhaiyn Mk’D’nl’d Mk-L’ster, off we go!”

    And off they went.

    After some time of dazed huddling into the fur rugs jineL sent: What did he say it was called, again?

    A sleigh? ventured Vt R’aam Thirty-Two.

    Yes. I have been in one before, but only as a—a pleasure vehicle, admitted J’f.

    Gee, wait until I tell them about it back home! sent the Nblyterian, her big green eyes sparkling. Aloud she said: “Fun, huh?”

    “Fun? It’s freezing!” shivered Su.

    “Yeah, but that makes it good!” she urged. “We don’t get this frozen snow stuff on Nblyteria, at all!”

    “What about at the poles?” asked Vt R’aam Thirty-Two.

    “No, they’re just ice. Never seen these little bits falling out of the sky like this.” She licked some experimentally off her lips. “Hey, you can eat them! They’re like Dreamy-Creamies!”

    “Without the flavouring,” noted J’f wanly before Su could. “Yes. I suppose it is just frozen H2O, this is a standard humanoid world. And to think I was planning to go to a winter-sports planet next year!”

    “They’re all snow, too, are they, sir?” asked jineL with interest. “You won’t have to bother, then!”

    J’f smiled wanly, hunching down further under the rug. No, he certainly wouldn't have to do that. It had been a very flattering invitation, and though of course when you looked at it objectively Shank’yar was his brother-in-IG-law, still, you didn’t get invitations from World Leaders, even those from the Third Galaxy, every day of the IG year! But if only he’d known it was like Bluellia—no, much worse, they did have bubbles and lifters back home, even Dad had had a blobbed-out bubble for as long as he could remember—he’d have thought twice about coming!

    The road to Keep Mk-L’ster, which was the name of Drouwh M’A’ail Mk-L’ster’s ancestral castle, was very narrow, very winding, and very steep, leading through several narrow gorges and between ranks of tall, dark, snow-laden trees. However, it wasn't ten IG fluh deep in snow, and after about half an IG hour’s painful progress they saw why: ahead of them were two sturdy horses dragging a huge log along: the purpose of the log being, they realised, to clear the snow.

    A being could get a blob to do that, offered Trff from underneath the fur rug.

    Yes. Stay down, Trff, ordered Su anxiously.

    Okay. It can see anyway—as much as it wants to. This primmo’s worse than Bluellia that time we went there for Galaxy Day! it grumbled.

    It said it, agreed BrTl, coming up beside the sleigh. “I could tell those nice horses to move aside, if you like, sir.”

    “Thanks, BrTl, but I think they’ve got a being in charge of ’em!” Shank’yar replied cheerily. He winked. A being who believes he is! “HEY!” he bellowed. “YOU, THERE! MAKE WAY!”

    And with a terrific clinking of harness and chains, and a terrific lot of hooing from the fur-swaddled humanoid nominally in charge of the road-clearers, the log was pulled over to the side of the road and they squeezed past. His jolly Lordshipness not neglecting to toss the fellow a handful of igs.

    As anyone but a jolly-lordshipified Whtyllian might have anticipated, the going ahead was terrible. However, they plugged on: evidently it wasn’t far now. It seemed, however, endless, as the icy wind whipped snow into their faces. At one point BrTl offered to go first but the horses assured him they were used to it and had been through much worse! Well, it wasn’t in words, but the message was clear enough. Snow to the rather nice pointed ears.

    “Ah,” said the driver at last. “Keep Mk-L’ster, Lord. Fine sight, ain’t she?”

    Shank’yar had encountered this sort of misuse of personal pronouns before, though not often, and he managed not to blink. “A fine sight, indeed, All’yhaiyn Mk’D’nl’d Mk-L’ster! Look, everyone!” he cried, twisting in his seat. “There’s the Keep!”

    They peered, and gasped. No wonder they hadn’t been able to land the lifter: there was nothing round the Keep! It rose up sheer from a rock whipped by a wicked-looking grey sea. The narrow, winding road had debouched abruptly onto the wild rocky shore of a little bay: jutting out into the bay was an excruciatingly narrow causeway, and at the end of it was the huge, dark grey, craggy presence. Lights showed here and there and some plumes of smoke were rising from it, but it was very hard to see what was natural rock and what was building. The whole scene was in monochrome: snow everywhere, the leaden sea, and the darker mass of the castle on its rock and the craggy cliffs ringing the bay.

    “Federation!” croaked J’f.

    Everybody else was too stunned to utter at all.

    “The planet has a millennia-long history of tribal wars—clan wars, eh, All’yhaiyn Mk’D’nl’d Mk-L’ster?” shouted Shank’yar above the howling of the wind and the pounding of the waves. “They’d have had a hard job attacking the Keep across that, eh?”

    “That be so, Lord!” cried the man pleasedly. “Keep Mk-L’ster’s never been took by the enemy! Not even the Wild Mk-D’rm’d could take ’er! Ah!” He spat—fortunately not to windward. “And death to all cursed Mk-D’rm’ds!”

    “Absolutely! Curse all Mk-D’rm’ds! Throw ’em to the bears!” cried Shank’yar. “Well, on to the Keep?”

   “Right you are, Lord!” And, whipping up the unfortunate horses, he headed the sleigh onto the causeway. There were walls on each side, so there was no danger of driving right off the thing: nevertheless Su firmly shut her eyes as they went across.

    Are you okay, BrTl? she asked fearfully.

    Sure! This wall comes up to—well, I’d have to make an effort to fall over it.

    She squirmed round and peered over the back of the sleigh at him. Ulp. The vacuum-frozen wall didn’t even reach his hips!

    I’m good, he sent placidly. This hat the senior cognate gave me’s great.

    BrTl, he’s unbearable!

    Pretty bad. Wouldn’t say it was as bad as the Fleet Admiral bit, though, he replied judiciously, lowering his head as the icy wind-speed increased.

    Su was going to argue, but on second thoughts, didn’t. Poor BrTl had pretty much borne the brunt of Dad’s Fleet Admiral bit, the more so as when he’d got to the Third Galaxy he’d assumed he’d never have to wear plasmo-blasted Number Ones again.

    The door of the castle was huge, even by xathpyroid standards, but just as they were wondering how to open it there was a terrific groaning, grating noise, it swung inwards, lights and beings appeared, and they drove right into Keep Mk-L’ster.

    I didn’t realise it for quite a while, but the reason Dad was being so frightful was that he was terribly nervous about meeting Drouwh again after all this time. Well, how could I? Usually he doesn’t care if a being approves of him or not, but it has actually dawned that he very much wants Drouwh to, and he doesn’t! Well, I think he truly does approve of the way Dad’s made a go of settling New Whtyll, but at the same time he really disapproves of the way he just dumped all his responsibilities back in the two galaxies on Raj and took off without a second thought.

    Anyway, I was gonna tell you about what happened when we got here. We drove right into a sort of courtyard, except it was right inside the castle: huge grim, dark grey walls going up and up with hardly a window to be seen. Dad was bossing everybody around getting them out of the sleigh so I said to the driver: “Thank you very much for bringing us in this awful weather.” And he said it wasn’t nothing to a Mk-L’ster (they all seem to be called Mk-L’ster, even though they're not part of Drouwh’s actual family; BrTl reckons they’re all distant cognates). So I said something about no windows and he said there wouldn’t be, because supposing the cursed Mk-D’rm’ds broke through, they wouldn’t be able to get in, and those weren’t windows, they were slots for pouring boiling pwld on the cursed something-worm droppings of Mk-D’rm’ds! Right, got that. (But wait for it.)

    So this tall man in a big fur cloak over, guess what, a skirt, it came to just below his knees, no wonder Dad wasn’t fussed about wearing a Norton dress, came out to welcome us, that was Drouwh. He’s very like Dad and Rh’aiiy’hn, but with a craggier look to him. His hair’s almost a platinum colour: at first I thought he’d had it done but Uncle J’f sent “No way! That’d be unmanly!” and it sunk it. Right. Goddit: that sort of being. No wonder Dad had gone into the jolly lordship thing.

    We were all bustled into the “Keep”, it was very dark inside with hardly any light-blobs and lots of lanterns: jineL and Uncle J’f recoiled, but I remembered what you said about how you felt the first time you saw Drouwh holding a candle, so I didn’t say a thing. The inside’s all grey stone like the outside, they haven’t painted it or anything, with lots of dark wooden bits as well. Beams? Think so. And heavy wooden doors, well, figures, they got enough forests, that’s for sure. But at least it was warm in the room he showed us into.

    And we met his bond-partner, her name’s Mh’aaiivh, isn’t that pretty? The same name as Rh’aiiy’hn’s mother’s was. She’s a pretty lady, but sort of faded and a bit sad-looking, I thought. Her hair’s a sort of pale fawnish red, with a lot of grey in it, and she hadn't done anything to her face at all, I mean, no tinting even on the lips: I tell ya, it was a bit of a shock, straight after Aunty Lle’onee’ya! She was wearing a long, straight dress, in a heavy woven material, a yicky pale fawn with little brown flecks in it, didn’t do a thing for her. She’s got quite a nice figure but that dress was doing its best to hide it. It had a belt, like, some gold links, quite pretty, only she hadn't done it up tight, it was sort of dangling, and guess what, it had a little gold purse on it like the silver one that Rh’aiiy’hn gave Fl’Jfaffl! No jewels on the fingers or toes or nothing. Hard to believe I was still in the same universe as New Felicity or Whtyll.

    Evidently most of their children are “too busy” to come to the Keep for Galaxy Day—the poor being was broadcasting loud and clear that they can’t stand their father—but one daughter was there with her bond-partner, she’s quite young, her name’s A’ailh’sa Roz, the “A’ailh’sa” bit’s after Drouwh’s sister, and guess what the son in-IG-law’s called? W’llaigh Mk’Jhymmai’h Mk-D’rm’d! Like, the cursed something-worm droppings of Mk-D’rm’ds that you’d pour boiling pwld on? I thought my translator wasn't working properly but that was right: they’re all best friends now and this Mk-D’rm’d is the youngest son of some cousin of some Mk-D’rm’d character that Drouwh reckons you’ll remember; the one his sister A’ailh’sa was bond-partnered to, that ring any bells?

    A’ailh’sa was there, too, with her third bond-partner. Turns out she’s Dad’s as well, he put it around back in those days, didn’t he? Typical Whtyllian. She’s more the Aunty Lle’onee’ya type. Red-gold fluffy curls with some interesting fluorescent lime-green highlights in them that Drouwh kept emanating disapproval of—gee, he’s her brother, why doesn’t she tell him where to put it?—a bright lime-green clingo-suit, he disapproved of that as well, and enough jewellery to open a new branch of J’rd’s. And good on her. The bond-partner’s a squashed-looking fat, middle-aged character what if he was out of Drouwh’s orbit and not being continually put down by A’ailh’sa might be quite a cheery person. A’ail Black. Not a clan name, tut, tut, tut—quote unquote.

    Well, gee, they’re supposed to be modernised and they’ve got full adult-being suffrage and a system of proportional representation in their parliament, plus and they can all vote for the Leader: why in Federation should anyone give a cptt-rvvr’s fart what old clan their ancestors belonged to? That’s like a cognate group, where you all have the same surname—get this, it’s passed down amongst “the people” quote unquote, not the lordships, through the female line. Maybe you know all that, I keep forgetting you were stuck here for yonks.

    Jhl sighed a little, and stared into space.

    “You okay, Mum?” asked Athlor in alarm.

    “Mm? Yeah, sure,” she said, trying to smile. “Of course R’rt Fh’laiin died years back: he was never very strong, after that blaster wound. Uh, sorry, dear: that was A’ailh’sa’s first bond-partner. He was a very nice being: I liked him. Oh, well, it’s wind down the moogletube now... Must say I can’t see J’f at this vacuum-frozen castle of Drouwh’s!”

    “No, um, you don’t think Dad invited him on purpose, do you?”

    “Mm? Oh! On purpose to torture him?” said Jhl, chuckling. “No, why would he? J’f’s never done anything to him—or me, before you start! On the contrary: offered to get me a lovely posting as equerry on a pleasure-planet, providing I took step-down in rank.”

    “Uh—yeah!” he said with a startled laugh. “I see, that’d be him in a nutshell, would it?”

    “Yep,” agreed Jhl cheerfully.

    “Su seems to be doing it hard,” he said cautiously.

    “Yeah, well, that’s only partly Keep Mk-L’ster in the depths of an Old Rthfrdian winter, dire though it sounds.”—Athlor was blank.—“Wake up! She’s dead jealous of this Nblyterian female that Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s got in tow!”

    “Eh? I didn’t get that impression at all,” he said weakly.

    “Of course!” cried First Cook Kadry in amazement.

    All the other emanations of amazement were just about mind-deafening Athlor. “Oh,” he said sheepishly. “Right. Goddit. Well, go on, Mum, suppose we can stand it.”

    Everybody else was almost deafening Jhl with Yes! Go on!—and she could sense the Looghers wanted news of Phyoowella—so she obligingly went on with the text-blob. Though it was a Trffified one, so they could all see it perfectly well, and most of them could read. Oh, well.

    Anyway, our rooms aren’t bad, and they’re letting me have Phyoowella in with me, in fact Mh’aaiivh came up to my room specially just before dinner to make sure she was comfortable in her little pet bed. Kind of like an it-being nest to look at but it doesn’t do anything, it’s just a basket with a cushion it. The being can’t shield worth an ig, I could hear her way down the corridor so I told Phyoowella. “[Subjectless particle] into bed nip!” and she nipped in real quick, and it looked real convincing.

    The second thing she’d come for was to make sure I wasn’t wearing something that’d shock ten IG years growth out of vacuum-frozen Drouwh! I didn’t even show her the pink thing Aunty Lle’onee’ya gave me, wasn’t that restrained of me? I was in the white thing with the ring of violet and white flowers at tit-level that R’shn and Aunty M’mri’in chose for me and she gave this sort of pale smile and said: “Very pretty, dear.” But as she didn’t acksherly say “Too low over the tits,” I ignored it. Anyway, all the other ones I got on Whtyll are the same, likewise the ones Dad got me, and as there didn’t seem to be no recyclers (!), what could she of done about it?

    She was in a pale grey thing, it was some shiny material but the cut was a dead ringer for the thing she had on earlier. Plus and a real hideous greenish sash at the waist: quite wide, kind of folded over on the right hip and pinned with a big brooch. Like, if she’d of worn it real tight, it could of looked not bad. Only she wasn’t. She explained the sash was the Clan Mk-L’ster one, and at dinner one was expected to wear the “clan colours.” Ladies always wear “the sash” and gentlemen always wear “the skirt” Quite unquote. That was the skirt that Drouwh had on before, only that one wasn’t formal wear.

    “Are they really that rigid?” croaked Athlor, swallowing hard.

    “Eh? Yeah,” replied his mother in a vague voice.

    He tried to smile, but failed. “Got it.”

    So I get downstairs and I see what she means. Like wow! A’ailh’sa Roz’s bond-partner, W’llaigh Mk’Jhymmai’h Mk-D’rm’d, was in the Mk-D’rm’d get-up, a black skirt with some thin red stripes through the material and a real spiffy short, tight jacket in shiny black nyr-hide, with this humungous great clip on one shoulder, holding on a big cloak of the same black and red material. And shiny black boots to the knee, with little knives in them! He’s got carroty hair, though, unfortunately, and tan blotches on his skin, bit like a Pizer, but next to him was this incredibly good-looking type in the same get-up: very dark auburn hair, almost black. Turns out this is a cousin, and since A’ailh’sa and her first bond-partner didn’t have no male offspring, this type is Lord Mk-D’rm’d, and head of the Mk-D’rm’d clan. (That make sense to you? Like Drouwh’s head of the Mk-L’sters.) Lh’m Mk’Eeain Mk-D’rm’d, the “Mk’Eeain” bit means his father’s name was Eeain, ring any bells? I was told Lh’m was another Black Mk-D’rm’d, with great approval, but I can’t say it meant a thing to me.

    When Vt R’aam Thirty-Two and jineL came in, of course in cadet dress uniform, I have to say it was a real anticlimax, even though those red jackets with the gold cadet bars on the shoulders are pretty spiffy. Mh’aaiivh and A’ailh’sa Roz were emanating shock, horror and “What will Drouwh think?” at the sight of jineL in hers so I guess no-one ever told them that if you’re bipedal you wear the uniform as set down in Regs. And if they wanted her to wear a plasmo-blasted dress they should of TOLD HER! Of course they were both picking the two silly beings up, their minds might not be above their waists most of the time but they did get into the Academy, for Federation’s sake. So I sent: “Just remember this is a primmo, jineL, and ignore them!” So she sent back: “Thanks, Su: I am! They don’t know what Service dress uniform is? Get real!” She isn’t all bad, I’ll say that for her.

    By this time I was starting to get real edgy, as you might imagine, cos Dad’s capable of anything, even a skirt that he isn’t entitled to. Then BrTl came in, in his dress uniform, emanating glumness, and poor old Trff with its plasmo-blasted it-being dress uniform appendage-bands. None of the Old Rthfrdians knew what they were looking at, of course, so I said real loud: “Hey, Trff, you’re wearing your medal, eh?” So then they all blinked and woke up, and admired it, and we explained what Trff had got it for, and then Lh’m Mk-D’rm’d got BrTl going on what all his Service medals were for. And Mh’aaiivh bleated something about even though Drouwh wasn’t down yet perhaps we could all have drinks. Perhaps we could, yeah, certain beings were just about collapsing, what with the wait and the awful anticipation! She wouldn’t let me and jineL drink the stuff that BrTl and the male humanoids got, we hadda have something else but it wasn’t bad, there was something with a kick in it in there along with the fruit juice and the piece of ice (probably just went outside and picked it up—yeah).

    Anyway, to cut a long story short Dad and Uncle J’f were just in ordinary evening clothes: I almost fainted from the relief! Dad was wearing his Two Galaxies Star pinned to the shoulder of his coat, but that was all. Well, it was pretty clear Uncle J’f wouldn’t of made a fool of himself in front of this load of FWs, but phew!

    So finally our host comes in, apologies all round, something about some building’s roof collapsing on the estate or something. Gee, it's another anticlimax, that Mk-L’ster dull green is real boring next to that snappy black and red of the Mk-D’rm’ds.

    A’ailh’sa’s late, Drouwh’s starting to get real narked, he doesn’t say anything but he's looking grimmer and grimmer and her luckless bond-partner has slid out to see what’s keeping her. Gee, what was keeping her wasn’t only the time it took to get the luminous green out of the red-gold curls and replace it with gold highlights and tiny black-and-gold butterflies, nor yet the time to get the humanoid form into that epidermis-tight black garment with the gold butterfly pattern on it. So Drouwh glared and sent: “That’s very attractive, A’ailh’sa, but hardly appropriate for a quiet evening at home”—does he think we’re all mind-dead or what? And she sent back, good on her: “Drop dead, Drouwh.” And she said: “So sorry to keep you waiting, Mh’aaiivh, darling,”—ignoring him, right—“but such a surprise! Look who’s here!”

    One of them was her daughter by her second bond-partner, about the same age as me, her name’s Fhn’Lya, isn’t that pretty? Fhn for short. And guess what, she’s a Black humanoid! The thing is, not only no Old Rthfrdians are black-skinned, but traditional Old R’s (like him, yeah), are magma-pit hot on bond-partnering within their class and preferably within their own clan or an allied clan—so that bond-partnership must of been a shock to our precious brother’s system! Really pretty, huge dark eyes and piles of black hair done in neato curls with silver wire wound into them, must of taken her hygiene cabinet ages, and get what she was wearing! A cute black tube-top, showing most of the tits, hers are nice and firm, then a real cute skirt, silver scintillion, and under that a pair of long black pants—narrow cut, bit like uniform pants.

    So Drouwh said, fifty IG degrees below Absolute Zero: “It’s always lovely to see you, Fhn, dear, but as you’re on my clan land, you’ll forgive me if I ask what, exactly, you imagine you’re wearing?” OUCH! But Fhn replied, totally unmoved: “Cute, isn’t it? It’s Kinntrooer dress. I thought the skirt was a nice touch. Regulation length, see?” And she did a little twirl to show it off, and all the younger men collapsed in sniggers. Well, she is very attractive. And by this time it was pretty clear that the Old Rthfrdians couldn’t stand him. So jineL and me collapsed in sniggers, too. Well, heck, he asked for it!

    So Dad did his diplo thing, smooth, smooth, dunno that I’d say Drouwh was actually mollified, but I think he was relieved we weren’t shocked, and the other two were introduced. One was a friend of Fhn’s from Third School—and if she’s a student, what do they expect? Even Mrsha insisted on doing her thing when she was doing her degree, ’member? And told Dad to his face that he was a fuddy-duddy! This was a male friend, see, and Drouwh was shocked and annoyed, and Mh’aaiivh was upset, too—on her own account, not just because he was shocked. Weird, huh? Don’t they want their relations to have grandkids? Anyway, never mind that, you’ll never guess who the other new guest was! I’ll give you a clue. Related to R’shn!

    The blob blinked off and its audience jumped.

    “Trffified,” said Jhl limply. “We’d better guess, if we want the thing to blob on again.”

    “One of R’shn’s and Raj’s kids?” asked Athlor dubiously. “What in Federation would they be doing on Old Rthfrdia, though?”

    Everyone agreed, shivering in sympathy, that no-one’d want to go there if they didn't have to. Athlor was about to ask his mother to break the lock or whatever it was Trff had put on the thing when Jhl snapped her fingers. “Gotta be! Oy, blob, it was S’zzie, wasn’t it?”

    Have you guessed? It was S’zzie, R’shn’s eldest daughter! Not one of Raj’s kids, her father was a Bluellian. I thought she might remember you, Mum, but she said she was only a baby when you left the two galaxies. She’s in Space Fleet, and a Pilot, rank of Commander, isn’t that great? Not in a fighter squadron, she’s in command of a big transport ship, Trff did tell me its make but I can’t remember it. Anyway, it's real big, usually carries five thousand IG Militia beings, how does that grab ya? Now hear this; she was in Space Fleet dress uniform. So those beings that had looked sideways at jineL could choke on it!

    That was all the surprises for the evening, and we went in to dinner. At least he had free beings serving it, not s-beings. BrTl enjoyed it, it was about as heavy on the meat side as the xathpyroid diet. A’ailh’sa and her bond-partner kept telling us that this was traditional Old Rthfrdian food, they don’t have it much in their own home, but acksherly, I think we’d all guessed that. Starters of big slabs of mushed-up liver on toast, Dad went on about some fungus they had in them. Then a thin soup, but it was meat-based, all right. Then, whaddaya know, fish from their own lake, they musta caught the things before it froze over. Or maybe they just went out and chopped a hole in it and lifted them out, all ready vacuum-frozen. Anyhow, they were nice. After that it was the main course, not just one kind of meat, by no means. At least they realised BrTl’s a big eater, they put the best part of a haunch of grpplybeast in front of him. They brought in another haunch of that real quick, and besides that there were silver trays (like Dad’s—right), covered with roast game birds and ducks and stuff, plus a roast grqwary, dunno what they’d stuffed it with but it was real weird, and another roasted haunch of something—not nyr, in fact Drouwh apologised because it wasn’t nyr, but the weather had been too bad for hunting. Some domestic animal they raise a lot of here: I didn’t like it, it was real greasy. Dad said it was excellent but I think that was one of his diplo lies. There were some dishes of vegetables but most of the Old Rthfrdians didn't eat much of those. But I had some greens, thought I better eat some while I had the chance. Hotter-and-hotter leaves, I never knew they came from here.

    “Hotter-and-hotter leaves,” said Jhl limply. “Great steaming piles of mok droppings: I’d forgotten...”

    “Eh?” returned Athlor foggily. She quite often served up the plasmo-blasted things.

    “Uh—oh! They’re native to Old Rthfrdia. Most of their native vegetables have got simple-minded names like that. There were curly somethings, too. Uh—maybe just curlies? –Forget. The Old Rthfrdians,” she said to the baffled emanations, “are no more native to Old Rthfrdia than we are to New Whtyll.”

    “Oh!” they all said.

    “Like the Blue Peaks,” said young Clone Vt R’aam Seventy-Two thoughtfully. “’Cos they’re blue.”

    “Exactly.” Jhl’s eye focussed.

    “I’ve done my homework!” he said quickly.

    “Good, I’ll have a look at it in a minute.” –Somehow they had got into the habit of reading the text-blobs, or viewing the recorder-blobs, in the evenings, with the entire household present, even if some of them had already seen the things earlier in the day. Oh, well.

    “Wouldn’t hotter-and-hotter leaves be revolting, cooked?” asked Athlor clinically.

    “Mm? Oh—well, pretty bad, yeah. Good as a salad, of course.”

    Athlor eyed her tolerantly. Mum would eat almost anything fresh as a salad and claim it was good. Barring Whtyllian blue kale.

    After a moment it dawned that they were all eyeing her tolerantly. Jhl cleared her throat. “Well, it does all sound typical. Drouwh always was magma-pit hot on the Old Rthfrdian traditions.”

    “No Black humanoids?” asked Athlor, frowning.

    She shrugged. “They’re all very pale, mostly red-haired, with greenish or greyish eyes.”

    “I dare say, but this bond-partnering within their class and clan sounds—” He fumbled for the word. “Archaic!” he produced.

    “Puts it well. Anyone wanna hear the rest of it?”

    Unfortunately they all did.

    The pudding was quite tasty, but very heavy, I couldn’t eat much of it. Something traditional. There was a sauce with it, but that was heavy, too. Tell First Cook Kadry I really miss her lovely sauces, especially that kinkerberry one that she makes just thick enough to stick to her frozen creams!

    At the end of the meal it was clear the males were gonna be allowed to sit round drinking their version of qwlot but Dad sent “The local custom is that females go back to the drawing-room after dinner,” so me and jineL trailed off with the rest of them. Trff came, too, well, it doesn’t drink qwlot and I had now got the point that it doesn't much like Drouwh. Even S’zzie came with the rest of us, but then I guess she's used to them, she's based at the big Space Fleet base over on New Rthfrdia. Funnily enough, although they’re as different as you could possibly imagine, A’ailh’sa seems very fond of her. Well, I guess she has known her since she was a baby. S’zzie didn't know whether she’d manage to make it here for her leave, and when she got to A’ailh’sa’s they’d left a message they were up here, and to come on up, in case you wondering why someone as sensible as her would volunteer to come here.

    Think I’ll skip over the rest of the evening, it was real boring, and Mh’aaiivh packed us off to bed pretty early on the excuse we’d had a long journey. She came into my room to see if I was warm enough, wasn’t that sweet of her? I didn’t even have to tell Phyoowella to move, she was in that pet-bed before you could say “[Vocative particle]!” Not as thick as some claim, see? They’ve put a servant in charge of feeding her, fortunately he’s a real cluey being, his name’s Eeain M’A’ail Mk-L’ster (you couldn’t of guessed) and he’d made sure she only got vegetables to eat and a bit of fruit for pudding, I should be so lucky.

    I’m just finishing this off before going down to breakfast: I woke up quite early. The bed’s huge, and smells funny, bit like snu flowers, but I slept like a log.

    Love to everyone and if First Cook could maybe pwld that sauce recipe over, I’ll give it to Mh’aaiivh, there must be some sort of berries they could use here instead of kinkerberries. From Su.

    No-one had told Su what you wore to breakfast in a great big draughty castle, so she just put on a warm clingo-suit and went down in that. Taking Phyoowella with her—okay, dinner was one thing, but no way was she gonna leave her in her room all day! Loud noises were coming from the room allotted to jineL, so it was pretty clear that Vt R’aam Thirty-Two had joined her in it. Su gave the closed door a sour look. In the huge, echoing hall at the bottom of the main stairs a bowing elderly man in the Mk-L’ster skirt showed her into the breakfast room: shades of Whtyll, though Su would have bet her Loogher’s actual tail that an Old Rthfrdian breakfast wouldn’t feature those fried up things of R’shn’s. The sole occupant of the room was S’zzie, in Service greige Durocloth coveralls!

    “Hi, Su,” she said mildly.

    Su sat down, grinning, and assisted Phyoowella onto the chair next to hers. “Hi, S’zzie. What’s for breakfast?”

    S’zzie eyed her drily. “There’s a choice. This mush with honey that I’m eating, it’s some sort of local grain, or fried meat, fried eggs, or fried fish.”

    “Is that it?”

    “Yep.”

    “But heck, S’zzie, they got pwlding here, I mean, it’s where they mine the stuff, isn’t it? And I know they got a tropical sector, it’s where they grow the mn-mns. And they gave Phyoowella some nice fresh fruit last night!”

    S’zzie shook her head. “Uh-uh. Not traditional. If they weren’t doing it five local millennia back, it’s not done. This here is the ancestral Keep of The Mk-L’ster, geddit?”

    “Yeah.”

    S’zzie eyed her drily. “Capital T, capital M,” she murmured.

    Their eyes met. They collapsed in splutters.

    They were eating mush and honey companionably when Fhn and her boyfriend, D’nnie, came in laughing, arms entwined, so, never mind he was conforming to the norms of Keep Mk-L’ster to the extent of wearing a skirt (mustard yellow with thin red stripes: he was Clan Rh’n’lhd), it was pretty obvious that they’d shared a room last night. Fhn plumped for the mush but D’nnie ate his way cheerily through a big plate of fried grpplybeast steak and fried eggs, making happy plans, largely with his mouth full, for some skiing, sledding or skating later on. Su to her knowledge had never heard any of these words before (and at first thought her translator must be on the blink)—but the mind-picture indicated pretty clearly they were all forms of winter sports. J’f and Lh’m Mk-D’rm’d then appeared and joined eagerly in the winter sports plans, followed shortly after by A’ailh’sa Roz and W’llaigh, who seemed just as keen. Su didn’t say anything, but no way was she gonna throw herself down a precipitous snow slope, nor get on out on ice over water on those thin blade things.

    You might enjoy it once you got started, sent S’zzie mildly.

    I won’t, ’cos I hate sports and I’m no good at them! retorted Su angrily.

    Fair enough, she replied equably, helping herself to the local herb tea.

    Su had about two IG microseconds to reflect that S’zzie was a really decent being and then his jolly Lordshipness came in. Of course they were all going to try the winter sports! Jolly laugh. What else did one come up to the snow for? Jolly laugh. That was all the fun of winter!

    “What’s all the fun of winter, sir?” asked a deep voice with a laugh in it, and jineL strode in, in Service greige coveralls.

    His jolly Lordshipness, under his daughter’s ferocious glare, winked and said: “As well as that, Cadet! Well—skiing, sledding, ice-skating: like to try them?” He sent her some vivid pictures.

    “Wow!” said jineL. “Count me in, sir! HEY! Vt R’aam Thirty-Two! Get in here! –He’s just coming,” she explained to the company. “A funny little old being stopped him in the hall upstairs to ask him if he’d like to borrow a skirt.”

    Vt R’aam Thirty-Two hurried in, grinning. “Hey! Look!” he panted.

    Everyone looked, and in the case of some, gulped. It was a skirt, all right: a grey-green Mk-L’ster skirt. Complete with a heavy brown grpplybeast leather jacket and matching knee-length brown boots with shin-knives attached.

    “Dear boy, who gave you that?” asked Shank’yar.

    “A little old man, sir, who said he was The Mk-L’ster’s valet. He said it was quite the done thing!” He grinned, and did a twirl. “Tasty, huh?”

    Shank’yar’s eye lit up. “Really?”

    J’f’s eye also lit up. “I say!”

    “Yeah, you’ll all look good falling down the mountains in them,” noted Su sourly.

    “What? Not for skiing, silly one!” said her father with a jolly laugh.

    “I see, you wear sort of special clingo-suits for skiing,” said jineL. “Uh—there was no recycler in my room.”

    Evidently that didn’t matter, A’ailh’sa Roz could lend her the appropriate garments, and there was a recycler, it was in her mother’s room.

    “This enables Uncle Drouwh to pretend they’re genuinely primmo,” noted Fhn drily. “Dare say you could just wear those coveralls, jineL.”

    “Sure,” agreed S’zzie. “I’m going to. Well, with my FW pack.”

    “My dear girl, what are you doing with an FW pack on a standard o-breather planet?” asked his jolly Lordshipness in amazement.

    The sturdy S’zzie grinned. “Same like Commander BrTl, there, sir!”

    BrTl had just come in. “That makes two of us with sense, then, Commander.”

    “Call me S’zzie,” she said with a wink.

    “Good. Call me BrTl. –I do remember you, now. You were undeveloped.”

    “Crawling!” said his Lordshipness with a jolly laugh. “So you were! Well, your FW pack will certainly keep you warm, and we can lend you a hat. Now, BrTl, listen to this—”

    “No way!” said BrTl in horror as his jolly Lordshipness’s picture of falling down precipitous slopes whilst trying to balance on thin sticks or trays was revealed.

    “But I know a xathpyroid who really loves it, and gives us rides down the snow slopes on his back!” cried Lh’m Mk-D’rm’d.

    “Due for Mullgon’ya,” stated BrTl definitely.—Su looked at him gratefully.—“What is he: a Kr-cognate?”

    “Uh—yeah, how did you know?” he said with a startled laugh.

    BrTl sniffed slightly. “Self-evident. Count me out.”

    “Me, too,” said Su grimly.

    “Now, now, Su-Su, darling, you’ll like it once you try—”

    “Dad, I WON’T!” she shouted. “’Member what happened when you made me try that grass sledding rhoofer shit?”

    “Oh, yes, the broken hind appendage do,” said BrTl dreamily to the ceiling.

    “Oh, rubbish,” said Shank’yar on a weak note. “She was only six, after all!”

    “Yeah: one of the few times—apart from the time I accidentally stepped on her toe—when I’ve seen Jhl do that water-from-the-eyes thing,” he said thoughtfully.

    “Yeah, and I didn’t have any sense of balance then and I haven’t got any sense of balance NOW!” shouted Su.

    Suddenly Phyoowella, who had appeared impervious to all the planning and shouting while she tried mush and honey, burst into a piercing keening. Out of sympathy, one could only assume. BrTl began to stop the noise in the creature’s throat, but then realised that Leader Vt R’aam already had.

    “Very well, my darling,” he said tiredly, “if you don’t want to, so be it. But you’re missing out on all the fun of winter.”

    “Good,” said Su sourly.

    She watched them all—in the appropriate silly garments—head out into the snow with no regrets at all. “What are you gonna do now?” she said to BrTl.

    “F’sh my bre’fash,” he replied thickly.

    “Um, yeah. After that,” said Su on a weak note, sitting down beside him.

    “Find a room with a big fire and an empty corner and have a nice doze.”

    “But you’ve just woken up!”

    “That makes it better. If I send for a being, will anything happen?”

    “No, they can’t pick you up,” she said with a sigh.

    “Uh—shout?” he groped.

    “Better not. I saw how Mh’aaiivh did it last night.” There was a small silver instrument on the table that didn’t look like any sort of cutlery BrTl had ever encountered, except possibly a bit like a Maudur egg-grasper, but as this wasn’t ZembZ, it probably wasn’t one of those. Su picked it up and shook it briskly. It played a brief tune and Phyoowella, who had come to again, gave a startled shriek.

    “Ow,” moaned BrTl, clutching his ears. “Look, it would be perfectly possible to remove that being’s impulse to shriek, now and for all— All right, no. But don’t say that no being offered.”

    “Did you register that?” replied Su crossly.

    “Huh? Oh!” he said as an elderly female humanoid hurried in and asked him what he would like, Lord. “Goddit. You shake that thing, it plays a tune, the Loogher shrieks, and a being asks you if you want food. –Yes,” he said to the servant. “What was that fairly large beast, local, not grpplybeast, that we had last night?”

    “That would have been a hggl, Lord.”

    “Right, I’ll have one of them, thanks. Char-grilled, if you can manage— Well, just roast will be fine.”

    There was some horrified gasping and then she revealed that the larder was full of beautiful hggls, the Lord having said the big off-world Lord liked his food, and the Lady having ordered them to fill the larder, but it would take some time to roast it on the spit, Lord! BrTl replied placidly that he was in no hurry and they could trot in a few dozen sausages—nyr meat, grpplybeast meat, anything they had handy would be fine—but if not, not to worry. And, gasping out that of course they could manage that, the being rushed out.

    “You can’t really mean to sit there all morning eating!” cried Su.

    BrTl just looked at her placidly and replied: “’Course I can. I’m on holiday.”

    “Well, where’s Trff?” she asked crossly.

    “In its nest. It’s pretty tired, what with the constant nagging from your senior cognate, so unless it’s really urgent, don’t disturb it.”

    “No. Okay,” she agreed, biting her lip. “Well, what am I gonna do all morning?” she said on a plaintive note.

    “Um… Dunno. Have some more breakfast?”

    “But I’m full!”

    BrTl just looked at her placidly.

    Su got up, scowling. “Come on, Phyoowella, we’re gonna go up to our lovely room and brush your fur and try on all your dresses, okay?”

    “[Affirmative particle]!” replied Phyoowella happily.

    And, grasping her Loogher’s paw firmly, Su marched out with a defiant look on her round face.

    BrTl sighed, thinking heavily, in spite of the prospect of sausages: Great galloping herds of grpplybeasts, how long was this gonna last? He was in no doubt the tangle of humanoid emotions she was emanating was closely connected with the uncloning business. Unfortunately he was also in no doubt there was nothing any being could do about it, certain Ju’ukrterian claims to the contrary. No, well, it could, and then the senior cognate and shortly after that Jhl would come down on it like an IG ton of mok shit. Free will and all that stuff. Sentient being-rights stuff. They’d just have to wait it out, and stand by with the senso-tissues.

Next chapter:

https://theadmirableclone-sf.blogspot.com/2023/11/the-status-of-pupil.html