Two Bond-Partnerings And A Funeral

22

Two Bond-Partnerings And A Funeral

    It was early spring when Su got back: she’d been away for nearly half a New Whtyllian year. The first greetings being over—Jhl managing not to (a) bawl or (b) reproach her daughter—the family and friends assembled on the front sweep could take stock.

    “What’s the being been eating?” gasped Jhl, gaping at KrZl. He gazed down at her amiably, emanating good will. Not to say, fullness. IG fluhs taller than he used to be, larger all over—possibly most of it muscle, true—and the hair sort of... shiny?

    This was not the first question Su had been expecting but she replied tolerantly: “Lots, Mum. Beings were very good to us, all the way there and back—eh, KrZl?”

    “Sure! And when we got there! I learned up how to eat fish, Madam!”

    “Ugh!” said BrTl involuntarily.

    For once Trff was actually at the Vt R’aam estate during the day. Very likely because it had sensed Su was nearing home, yes, but as to why it hadn’t bothered to impart this good news to any being— Oh, well. “Not usually part of the xathpyroid diet,” it noted helpfully.

    “No,” agreed Jhl numbly, goggling at KrZl. “Fish?”

    Shank’yar suppressed a laugh. “Darling,” he said, putting his arm round her, “that’s why his neck-hair looks so shiny: fish oil is very good for both humanoid and, apparently”—the slanted blue eyes twinkled—“xathpyroid hair.”

    “Yes, that’ll be it,” agreed Su comfortably. “The beings in the village gave us lots of recipes for fish, and they reckon most of them’ll work nearly as good with freshwater ones.”

    “Yes. Blue carp oughta work,” agreed KrZl.

    “Ooh, good!” beamed First Cook Kadry. “So they fed you all right, then, in them primmo parts, did they?” –Just managing not call them “my dears” by a Loogher’s whisker.

    “Sure!” agreed the xathpyroid.

    “Sure!” agreed Su. “Acksherly, we hadda put our firmest foot down, on the way, eh, KrZl? Or we’d never of got out to the coast at all. Everyone wanted us to stay for a bit and try their own recipes, and of course they all wanted to have the book as well, so we hadda keep explaining that their book deliverers were on their way: we hadda keep on going or we wouldn’t get out to the coast before winter.”

    “See, their book deliverers were some from a list that never had no xathpyroids in it, rhoofers can’t keep going like us!” added KrZl proudly.

    “No stamina,” agreed BrTl. “That’s right.”

    “Right, well, you see you give me a copy of them fish recipes, Su, my dear,” beamed the cook. “And I’ll just get in and get the lunch ready for you!” She went into the house, followed, after a very loud mind message, by several ex-clones on kitchen duty.

    “Er—yes,” said Shank’yar on a weak note, “don’t let’s stand around on the sweep. Come along, we’ll all go inside.”

    Boots! sent Su and KrZl involuntarily, and, uh, Trff?

    Yes, sir, it confirmed. Mud on the... real wtmyrian carpets? it ended dubiously.

    Mud on the polished wooden floors and fake wtmyrian carpets, in this instance, but you-it’s right in principle! returned Shank’yar cheerfully. “Yes, you can leave those boots outside, xathpyroid cognate,” he said kindly. “Muddy fields at this time of year, eh?”

    Immediately two lorpoid ex-clones and the boot-boy shot over to KrZl and helped him with the boots.

    “That’ll do,” said Su tolerantly as a fight broke out over who was to take care of them. “Vt R’aam Seventy-Two can do it, he’s the expert. And we won’t ask why you’re not at school.”

    The boot-boy grinned. “Trff collected me, Young Mistress! It knew, ya see!”

    Trying very hard not to laugh, Shank’yar at this pulled his bond-partner bodily into the house before she could stick her plantigrade appendage right down her speaking-tube and start asking why Trff had favoured the boot-boy and not all the other beings who might well be supposed to be as vitally interested in Su’s homecoming.

    Su had gone upstairs to have a nice bath and change, and KrZl had been hauled off by BrTl to his room, to use his hygiene cabinet—it was the only bathroom that was big enough—and try on a, quote, “newish” pair of coveralls. Jhl looked limply at the piles of space junk various beings had tenderly unloaded from KrZl’s back and tenderly carried into the sitting-room. “What is all this space junk?”

    “That giant bunch of straw that I stopped them from bringing indoors is definitely roofing material,” replied her bond-partner mildly, pouring small glasses of Whtyllian zhr’ee. “Drink this, Jhl, you’ll feel much brighter.”

    “Will I?” she returned drily, nevertheless taking it. She’d got used to the plasmo-blasted stuff, over the years. Nothing like the kick of qwlot: quite. Some sort of zapped-up wine. “How can you make a roof of straw? Uh—a joke?” she ventured foggily.

    “No,” he replied calmly. “I think, from the somewhat muddled pictures I picked up from the two of them, that one ties it tightly in bundles.”

    "And then the whole thing flies away.”

    “Well, no: tied tightly to the roof beams, I think, darling.” He waved his hand. “Layers and layers, so that although the top ones get damp the rain can’t possibly get in. I have seen it on some primmo world—forget which. –I’m surprised the technique was never developed on Bluellia, actually: it does grow vast quantities of grain.”

    “I’m not! Shan, it sounds mad!”

    “It’s worth trying. Our slate roofs take so long to construct, and the shingled ones almost as long, and then, slate is very heavy to transport.”

    “Uh—yes. Well, had a go at splitting wood for shingles once, myself,” she admitted, wincing. “Vvlvanian-cursed tricky.”

    “Yes. Whereas almost any being could tie bundles of stiff straw—or reeds, I think. These other offerings are probably useful artefacts. Or what the fisherfolk claim are useful!”

    “Well, yeah,” she agreed, eying a hunk of something weird sticking out of one bundle.

    All was revealed when Su came downstairs. True, in fresh Service greige coveralls, but the pale blue belt and matching clingo-suit that showed at the neck, wrist and ankles apparently met with her father’s lordly approval. The fishing villages—and Jhl had forgotten this, yes—had been settled by a group of Expedition Fleet beings who were members of some weird cult that believed in doing things the way their primmo ancestors had. Oh, yes: Diggers, they were called. From Gertunny III—well, reaction again the place’s stultifyingly civilised ambience, presumably. Shank’yar had been pleased to have them in the Fleet because of all the techniques they knew that could be useful on a pioneer world. Okay, he’d been right all along. Apparently the settlers had lapsed somewhat from this rigid stance and had been using blobs, but Su reported that they could still sail their boats and do their fishing and cooking without them. But they’d be very glad to get a supply of fresh matches.

    “Mm.” Shank’yar wrote something on his little paper scroll.

    “Dad, I’ve written everything—”

    “No, making a note to get onto the match producers, sweetheart.”

    “Okay, make that the ink producers as well. They couldn’t write down nothing for me, kinkerberries don’t grow that close to the sea.”—Jhl gulped.—“’S’all right, Mum, no being thought of that. But me an’ KrZl had plenty. Only see, they reckon maybe we could use this stuff instead.” She produced a small bottle of some oily black fluid. “Ya might wanna hold your noses.” She opened it.

    “Pooh, ugh!” gasped BrTl from the doorway.

    Fishy? groped Trff. Not from the same beings?

    “Seal it up again, Su, for Federation’s sake!” gasped Jhl, clapping her hand back over her nose.

    Shank’yar hadn’t bothered. “Squid ink. Well, good for them. That hasn’t been purified, of course. Could be quite a little industry for them.”

    “It’s got glass round it, though, sir,” said KrZl sadly.

    “Yes,” agreed BrTl, sitting down in his corner. “Siddown, Kr-cognate, think your neck-hair’s safe, she’s sealed the muck up again. Trff, your lot worked out how to make glass?”

    “Of course.”

    “Scrub that. ’Course you have. I mean, how to produce it without benefit of blobs?”

    “No.”

    “Any container will do,” said Su quickly. “It’s just, they happened to have this little bottle. That reminds me, gourds don’t do that well where they are, neither. It gets cold too early.”

    “Yeah. There was snow by the time we got there,” the xathpyroid agreed. “Like, up on the hills and the roads we crossed, only not in their village. It was cold, though.”

    “That’s terrible!” cried Jhl.

    “We knew it’d be chilly, Mum.”

    “Yes, but galloping grqwary gizzards! Were you both okay? No chest infections?”

    “Nah, we were fine, Madam.”

    “Yeah, we were,” agreed Su. “Some of the locals, they got sick. Well, why we couldn’t get back earlier really, eh? –See, we were staying with this family—”

    Su, it emerged from her narrative, had pretty much been running the village for the last several months. The village leader’s bond-partner had insisted they stay with them. The man himself had been down with an illness at the time, but had welcomed them kindly. Then he’d recovered and gone to sea again with his eldest son, but the wife, two younger sons who worked their little farm, and the older daughter had come down with it—it sounded like a combination of a very bad cold with a chest infection.—At this point Jhl exited silently and fetched one of the remaining medi-blobs she’d been keeping for this sort of plasmo-blasted disaster: but no, the two of them were reported clear. BrTl, however, had a cold threatening, so the blob helpfully zapped him in the forearm.—The remaining son and daughter being aged six and five, respectively, Su had simply taken over. And as the woman had apparently been virtually running the village while the men were at sea, taken over that rôle, too!

    “Like, she does what Rh’aiiy’hn used to do. –Well, and what he does now, acksherly!” said Su with a laugh. “But I mean, sorting out arguments, like neighbours claiming that one of them’s lit a fire in the back garden and contaminated all her clean washing, y’know?”

    “Yes,” agreed her parents weakly.

    “Sure!” agreed BrTl and Trff cheerfully.

    “Yeah, I know you do, Trff!” replied Su merrily. “It wasn’t hard, Mum. I just said: ‘Now hear this. This is my decision’—like, whatever. And told them to go away and whatever.”

    “Very good, Su-Su, darling. One needs to be completely firm and detached, in such circumstances,” agreed her father briskly. “Otherwise the beings take advantage.”

    “Never empathize—yes,” said Jhl very faintly indeed. “Advanced Pilot Training Personnel Management 101. Eighty percent of my class concluded the being teaching us was a brute.”

    “Quite. Then you got out in the field,” returned her bond-partner drily.

    She cringed at the memory. “I’ll say!”

    BrTl cringed in sympathy—empathy, even. “Yeah. Never mind, wind down the moogletube. So what are all these parcels?”

    “Not presents, I’m afraid,” said Su apologetically. “Though I have got something for you, Mum. It’s from Mavvy and her daughters, they make them themselves.”

    “Goddit,” agreed BrTl. “So you better like it, whatever it is!”

    “Shut up, you intergalactic blob-head,” groaned Jhl. She unwrapped the little parcel. “Oh, dear!” she said with a weak laugh. “Look, Shan—look, everybody! It’s a tiny tea-cup and saucer, made of shells!”

    “Yep. And see what they carved on the cup?” urged Su.

    The minute letters on the cup said: “Zi.” Jhl broke down and laughed till she cried. “It’s adorable!” she admitted. “I’ll put it on my dressing-table right now, Su!”

    She vanished. Silence reigned in the sitting-room.

    It thinks most of that stunned-amazement emotion is the senior cognate, Trff reported.

    Part of it’s me! replied BrTl with feeling. When you think of all the mega-expensive space junk he’s given her and she never cared a—a bent Bluellian farthnum for!

    Never mind, you-it and it and she-it are on New Whtyll now!

    “And he-it!” said Shank’yar, smiling at them. “Oh—sorry, everybody. We’re just agreeing that we’re all on New Whtyll now, times have changed—figure of speech, Trff—and that little artefact struck quite the right note! But perhaps you could unwrap these others, Su-Su, and put us out of our misery! –Sorry, Trff: figure of speech, again!”

    There were a lot of them, but the one that seemed to appeal most to the senior cognate was a thing that they could feel KrZl emanating had been sticking into his bum all the way back. Wooden sticks. Strings. Said to be for using strings of, um... hggl wool? Whatever blobbed you up. To make cloth. Huh? fumbled BrTl.

    “A hand loom!” Leader Vt R’aam was crying. “Wonderful, Su! Wonderful, KrZl!”

    Superb IG manners, the being always had had. –What, Trff?

    Cloth, pursued Trff. Beings use that thing to make cloth from hggls’ wool, BrTl.

    “Oh, good!” BrTl realised. “You mean if we run out of Durocloth that thing’ll make more cloth? Well done, you two!”

    This went over well and the senior cognate offered—at last—shots of qwlot. The young Kr-cognate emanated astonishment at being included, but didn’t refuse his. After which, thank the Federation, it was time for lunch!

    —One of the greatest spreads, take it for all in all, BrTl had had on this side of the Known Universe. Not as good as when they’d got back from the two galaxies, true, but close. Fair enough, First Cook hadn’t had so much time to plan it.

    Incidentally, all beings that had been waiting edgily for the first meeting between Su and Vt R’aam Thirty-Two could stand down. There was a word for it. Uh... What was that, Tr—BURP! Sorry. Trff?

    Anti— “Hic!” Help! Sorry. Anticlimax.

    Oh, yeah. That. Well, great splintered shards of quog, what else could it be called? The being had come in for the lunch—everybody else was already sitting round the table—he’d said formally: “Welcome back, Su,” and she’d said: “Thanks.” Not meeting the plasmo-blasted being’s eye. Then he’d sat down between Rollo and one of the ex-clones that Jhl had insisted hadda join them. (Unfortunately ex-clones at the table had only got slightly up the senior cognate’s nose, he was in such a good mood.) And given that Su was sitting between Jhl and the senior cognate, that was that. –Eh?

    Comedown, letdown, disappointment, deflation— Other words it could be called, BrTl.

    Other words it could be called, BrTl, hic, doesn't you-it mean? he replied nastily.

    You-it’s right, it had better go and have a nice lie-down in its nest, Trff replied, going.

    What? He hadn’t been thinking— No, well perhaps he had been about to think— To Blerrinbrig’s with the whole do, he was gonna go off to his stall and have a nice doze! ...But it had been a really great spread.

    Things went on pretty much along the same lines for an appreciable while. Well, IG weeks, it only felt like IG years. Almost a figure of speech, Trff, and do you mind not insisting on the point? Federation! It was starting to hunch itself up into its fluff! Sorry, Trff.

    That’s all right, BrTl, it’s on edge too, figuratively speaking.

    Yeah. –Is you-it? –Yeah. He peered at the chemo stuff it was doing in its hangar but it meant less than nothing to him, so he couldn’t think of anything kind to say. Bother. No, well, not exploding, that was a plus, but—

    Yes, that is a plus!

    Blenching slightly, BrTl agreed aloud: “Good show. Have a Merit Star, that Ju’ukrterian chemo engineer.”

    “Thanks! –You-it has attended bond-partnerings before.”

    WHAT? For Federation’s sake! He hadn’t even been thinking about that!

    “It’s in your-its mind.”

    “I dare say it is, but is it a priority?”

    There was a short but discernible silence.

    “That depends on a being’s point of view,” Trff produced cautiously.

    “Yuh—all right, don’t list the possible points of view, there’s a good old Trff! Just—uh—well, since the topic’s come up, why are—no, let me get my points in order.” Many beings would have made pointed remarks, no pun intended, at this juncture, but you could say one thing for the engineering mind, it didn’t even emanate! “Yes: (a), Why two ceremonies of bond-partnership when one is all that’s needed to be IG-legal? And (b), why are beings closely cognate with the two principle beings in question making such a fuss about it?”

    Silence.

    “Um, Trff, probably is humanoid-repro stuff in there, and, um, slightly Nblyterian repro-stuff as well, I suppose, given the being’s cognate group, so, uh—”

    “No, that’s okay, BrTl, it’s not confused about that. –Those,” it murmured but so quietly he definitely didn’t need to hear it. “It was waiting for the (c).”

    “There isn’t— Um, well, it wasn’t a huge spread, we were largely on space rations by then, but within those limits we did have a pretty good meal as a celebration when D’ffni got bond-partnered to the moron, and after the older male cognates’ bond-partnerings, too. On the other appendage,” he added thoughtfully, “we also had one an IG year after Su came out of the culture pod—figure of speech.”

    “So (c), Will there be a huge spread?” concluded the engineering mind happily.

    “Er—minor point, but yes, (c), if you-it likes.”

    “It’ll answer (c) first because that’s the simplest answer, BrTl. Yes.” BrTl was trying not to emanate “not sufficient” so Trff added kindly: “A Nblyterian senior cognate.”

    “Uh—Oh! The being Blndry calls Dadda! Goddit! Yes, his cooking’s great.”

    “Yes. And humanoids do tend to celebrate the anniversary of the immature cognates, it means kids, coming out of the culture pod—figure of speech. –Birthday.”

    “Oh, right! Su’s word, eh? So, um, points (a) and (b)?”

    “Point (a), Why two ceremonies of bond-partnership when one is all that’s needed to be IG-legal? This isn’t logical, BrTl, but the answer would seem to be because the Dadda-being thinks that the IG-legal one isn’t fancy enough.”

    “Uh—righto, then, Trff! We’ll settle for that! No standard logic involved at all, eh?”

    “No,” Trff agreed gratefully. “Point (b), why are beings closely cognate with the two principle beings in question making such a fuss about it? The answer is that it’s extremely important to them. Emotionally, psychologically and socially,” it added in apologetic tones.

    “Right, goddit: we’ll just class the beings as ready for Mullgon’ya, and accept that it just is!” BrTl agreed hurriedly.

    “Good. –No, that Dadda-being hasn’t saved up any nymbo cheese, BrTl. But there’ll definitely be quoshy pie!”

    Gulping a bit, BrTl managed: “Glad to hear that last, at all events!” –It had looked? Great splintered— “Um, yes,” he added hurriedly. “Thanks for checking, Trff.”

    “Would mwopplell do?”

    “Uh...”

    “If you-it goes out towards that place laughably called a farm where H’lln and her-its moron live,”—BrTl had to swallow: that would’ve been Jhl’s phrase, or he was a Kr-cognate that had lost its crunchers—“but don’t go there, turn off to the left and head inland for three hundred and sixty glps, approximately speaking, you-it’ll find New Whtyll Agricultural Experiment Station Number Forty-Seven, aka Mwopplell Experimental Farm. This year’s is still growing but they’ve harvested and stored last year’s crop.”

    It seemed to think it had finished. “Yes?”

    Trff didn’t say anything or send anything in words but he got a vivid picture of a BrTllian figure in Durocloth coveralls creeping up to a plasmo-blasted hangar at dead of night...

    “No, Jhl’d read it, however much I tried. Well, the more I tried, the more likely— Yeah.”

    “Sorry, BrTl, that was its best shot.”

    “Oh, well, quoshy pie’s always good!” concluded BrTl bravely.

    The IG-legal declaration of bond-partnership was always the same. The being doing Official Recorder placed itself in an upright position (where suited to the physiology), in front of (where suited to the physiology) the beings concerned, standing, where suited to the physiology, and said the words, or if not suited to the physiology, sent them. It could be a ship’s captain, yes: the Thwurbullerian captain of the Expedition Fleet’s Ship 1 had done Official Recorder for Jhl and Y-K-W. According to Jhl, it was more than likely that the being didn’t know to this day what it was all about—Thwurbullerians, quite possibly the most sensible beings in the Known Universe, didn’t go in for bond-partnership.

    So in this instance the New Whtyll CivS being that had the job of Official Recorder was doing it. –Who was that being that Blndry was getting bond-partnered to, anyway?

    At this point Su sent very firmly: BrTl! His name’s Nudge, you know that! And STOP broadcasting! So BrTl attempted to close down his mind functions entirely. Well, think about what Blndry’s Dadda, a notable cook, might serve up for the feast.

    Blndry and Nudge were all dressed up for the occasion. Su looked at Blndry’s outfit sourly. It was a pink dress, the same shade as Blndry’s crest, longish, to about mid-shin. Not tight but not loose. Didn’t look bad at all, given that Blndry was tall. On her, Su, it would of looked ridiculous. Under it, coming to the ankles, was a thingo that Blndry had found in a recycling boutique and had grabbed two seconds before Su could. Blob-made lace. Sort of a skirt only it was largely see-through. So her mum had put her foot down: it would not be worn with nothing but clingo-tights for such a public occasion! It was a kind of creamy colour. Underneath it the pale green clingo-tights that Su knew were Blndry’s best kind of glimmered and the effect was to die for. Likewise them twinkly pale green shoes: where had the being got them? Not from R’ry’s Recycling Boutique, that was for sure!

    From Shoo-Woll Shoes N’ Stuff, it’s like, sort of new, her niece informed her helpfully.

    Su awarded Gl’nndy a glare. Well, where is it?

    I thought shoo-woll was a custard, put in Bennu with interest. The girls both glared at him, and he shrugged, and stopped listening.

    A general hubbub had now broken out in the Official Recorder’s office, the brief ceremony being over, so Gl’nndy explained: “Ya go down near Jooter-jooter Cut, like, down Fifty-Second Street’s best, ya turn off from Morgher Av’, right? And ya walk along the Cut till ya get to Jooter-jooter Alley. It’s just off there. Jooterberry Court, ya can’t miss it, it’s on the ground floor. Best shoes in the K.U.”

    “Right. So did you get those there?”

    Gl’nndy was in knee-boots of an unusual dark reddish-purple shade. “Yep!”

    Su gave in and sighed deeply. “To die for, I’m definitely going there!”

    “Um, ’tis near the Cut!” she hissed. “Grampa won’t like it!”

    “Up his.”

    Su’s parents were far too high-up for Blndry’s parents to invite, so they hadn’t—unaware that Jhl would have loved to come—so Gl’nndy merely shrugged, and revealed: “Nudge got his there, too, and them socks. Galaxious, huh?”

    “Yeah.” They looked admiringly at Nudge. His tunic was one of Sallu’s designs, small pale green kinkerberry flowers intertwined with the three-fingered, rather spiky leaves of the bush, in a mixture of dark green and silver, on a dark red background. Below it his trousers, which they silently recognised were the best he could find, were of a dark blue fuzzy cloth, somewhat rubbed. They reached to his knees. The long socks were galaxious, all right: silver, a real find. And the shoes were bright scarlet laced ankle-boots, to die for.

    “Hey, what being made them wear those flowers on their heads?” hissed Gl’nndy.

    “Dunno. Best guess, Blndry’s Dadda?”

    “Yeah!” The two girls’ eyes met and they collapsed in sniggers.

    It being still only spring, there weren’t very many flowers available—through, true, the native kinkerberry bushes were in flower. Nudge, like most of the settlers of Whtyllian descent, had shiny, straight black hair, which he was wearing in a Friyrian-style plait like Athlor’s. He was, in fact, one of the beings in Athlor’s office and greatly admired him. Luckily for him, he also had some Nblyterian in him, through his maternal grandmother, so Blndry’s Dadda, though of course becoming tearful at the news that his daughter wanted to get bond-partnered to the being, had been able to accept him. Not that Blndry or Nudge himself would have cared if he hadn’t, but it made things easier all round. At the moment both his shiny dark head and Blndry’s pink crest were encircled with wreaths of delicate pale blue blooter flowers.

    “Can one assume,” murmured Brtelli from just behind them—the girls jumped and then tried to pretend they hadn’t, “that the wearing of spring flowers on the head at a bond-partnering is not significant on New Whtyll, but may have some significance to Nblyterians?”

    At this Bennu, Gl’nndy’s boyfriend, gave a smothered snigger, but Su glared and retorted sourly: “Assume all ya like,” and Gl’nndy, also glaring, hissed crossly: “Yeah, blow it out yer ear, Brtelli!”

    And look out, it’s the Nblyterian bond-partnering next, that’ll be even weirder, Bennu warned the friymanoid tolerantly.

    It was.

    They didn’t have it at the Official Recorder’s office—not nearly big enough. No, they’d hired a hall for it.

    A social? groped Trff.

    Don’t think so, returned BrTl foggily, gaping round at the crowd that had suddenly quintupled in size. Invited by the Dadda being? he hazarded.

    Most of them, yes.

    Goddit. BrTl allowed his head to droop...

    “Ow!” gasped Su.

    “Help, sorry! Was I using your head as a neck-rest? Sorry!”

    “That’s okay,” she said bravely. “It does seem to involve a lot of to-ing and fro-ing up the front, doesn’t it?”

    “Yeah,” he agreed gratefully. It then dawned that she was too short to see. Obligingly he lifted her up in a hand.

    “Ooh!” gasped Su, suddenly eight IG fluh above the floor.

    “Sorry, it should have warned you-it,” said Trff quickly.

    “One of you should of, yeah, but I don’t think it was you-it!” she replied gaily. “It’s all right, I’ve got a marvellous view from here!”

    “Of what?” asked Brtelli, peering up at her. He squeezed Fallon’s hand consolingly; he could feel she wanted to see, too.

    “Lots of to-ing and fro-ing!” replied Su with a giggle. “Weirdo hats!”

    BrTl, the Fallon being would like it if you-it—

    Fallon let out a loud squeak as BrTl suddenly shot out a pseudopod—though she was almost used to the way xathpyroids did that—and hoisted her up level with Su.

    “Sorry, was that too sudden? Thought you got my message, Fallon.”

    “No, I was listening to the music, but it’s okay: thank you,” replied Fallon bravely.

    Listening to the music? Was the being due for Mullgon’ya? BrTl had been doing his plasmo-blasted best not to listen to it!

    “Ooh, look! Isn’t it colourful!” she gasped.

    “Colourful with weirdo hats!” agreed Su with a loud giggle. “Go on, BrTl, lift Brtelli up.”

    “Whatever blobs you up.” Kindly BrTl lifted Brtelli up.

    The Nblyterian ceremony continued. There seemed to be three beings in the weirdest hats and sort of flowing robes, except they were actually just long strips of cloth draped over the shoulders, very colourful indeed, that was, solid colours, but that one had bright yellow, bright puce and bright blue strips, that one had bright green, bright red and bright apricot, and the other one had more bright yellow, bright turquoise, and glittering silver. All the hats clashed, that was an interesting feature. Brtelli had hitherto thought that Nblyterians didn’t wear hats, because their crests would get in the way, but these were tall ones, obviously constructed to go over the crests.

    Like uniform helmets, BrTl prompted suddenly

    “Yeah!” he gasped, twitching sharply. Help, how long had BrTl been reading him?

    Since I met you, replied the xathpyroid tolerantly.

    Wincing, Brtelli tried not to think at all.

    DONG-NG-NG-NG-NG! DONG-NG-NG-NG-NG! DONG-NG-NG-NG-NG!

    They waited, appendages and/or pseudopods prudently over the ears, in the case of some.

    DONG-NG-NG-ng-ng-nnng...

    It's all right, that’s the worst of the noise over! sent Trff jauntily.

    They’d all picked it up. “Trff,” said Fallon fearfully, removing her hands from over her ears and moving her jaw cautiously. “Ooh! My ears are still ringing! Trff, is you-it sure?”

    “Yes. It doesn’t know it, Fallon: the it-being’s never experienced a Nblyterian bond-partnering before, either. But that’s what Blndry’s mum is broadcasting!”

    Was she? The rest of them hadn’t picked her up, that was for sure. They all smiled weakly at it and thanked it with true gratitude.

    Then there was a lot of walking around— A procession, Trff? If you-it says so. Oh, how those beings think of it, eh? Whatever blobs you up—though it looks pointless to a xathpyroid. Strangely, Blndry and Nudge no longer seemed to be the principal participants. Oh, well, whatever blobbed you up. But when were they gonna have the feast?

    Hurray! Guests were asked to move aside and beings started bringing in tables and chairs—some of the smaller beings present, not to be anything-ist, broadcasting: Thank the Federation! Seats at last!—and other beings started circulating with trays of drinks—and here came the food!!

    … Quite some time later, in terms of the commonly perceived space-time continuum, BrTl tried something roundish and sort of squashy. “Glob! Wharruh uh?” He swallowed with difficulty. “What was that?”

    Fallon had never before in her life seen any being eat a whole bowl of pudding at a swallow. She merely gulped, cheeks very pink. Gl’nndy and Bennu, who’d fought their way up to the front during the ceremony, had rejoined them for the feast, so Gl’nndy replied kindly: “Some sort of pudding. Brown.”

    “Yuh— Yeah, I could see it was brown,” BrTl conceded weakly.

    “Yeah? Wasn’t sure whether xathpyroids’ retinal predisposition might alter their perception of other colours besides green,” the little humanoid girl said cheerfully. “Some sort of custard, was it?”

    “Globby, anyway,” he conceded. “Quite sweet.”

    Su hadn’t spoken for some time. “Don’t mind-prod me, Trff!” she said crossly.

    “But it can see that you-it knows what the brown stuff was, Su.”

    Brtelli had been reduced to silence by Gl’nndy’s last speech. Telling himself drily not to let his preconceptions run away with him, he urged: “Well, tell us!”

    “Bongo beans,” said Su sulkily. “They aren’t sweet.”

    They were all getting a picture, possibly involuntary, of large brown bean pods, lumpy-looking, hanging from a huge tree.

    “Isn’t that that tree at the back of Jhl’s grass?” groped BrTl. “All right, lawn, don’t all mind-deafen me! Is it?”

    “Yes,” agreed Trff. “First Cook Kadry uses the beans in the pods that fall off that tree to make a brown powder that she puts into dishes something like that brown pudding. And into many meat sauces, BrTl. –No, you-it didn’t know the muck was in them!” it agreed proudly.

    “So what?” said Su sourly.

    Had she eaten too much? Cautiously BrTl looked. Stop prompting me, Trff, I can see she hasn’t! So what is it?

    Nothing...

    Ouch! BrTl eyed it warily.

    No, it's trying to formulate it in a way that you-it can absorb it into your-its xathpyroid consciousness.

    Thanks. –Well?

    Not jealous of the Fallon being and the Brtelli being as such, Trff ventured cautiously. Jealous of what they’ve got?

    BrTl looked foggily, not to say blearily, at their plates. Fallon had a small pink cake, half-eaten, he wasn’t fond of pink—pity the being had head-fur that colour, really. Quite a nice little being, apart from that. Brtelli had a small savoury with one bite taken out of it, not meat—fish. Good on the being, if he’d made the mistake of taking one he’d have left, it, too.

    No! What they’ve got... emotionally.

    Uh... Does you-it mean humanoid, um, slightly Nblyterian and friymanoid, and slightly—no, not slightly— Scrub that. Repro-stuff?

    Partly repro-stuff, yes. But more... emotional. Sorry, BrTl. A bit like what Jhl and Y-K-W have got— Forget it sent that!

    “I’ll try,” BrTl conceded drily. “Eh? Oh! Well, actually, Brtelli, if Fallon doesn’t mind I might try that small pinkish cake.”

    “Please do!” she gasped, holding out the plate in a tiny pinkish paw. BrTl didn’t dare grab the cake with his hand: he took it delicately in a pseudopod.

    “Isn’t it wonderful how he does that?” sighed Fallon, looking up at him admiringly.

    Several beings’ eyes started from their heads, metaphorically as well, and Bennu managed to gulp: “No! He’s a xathpyroid, ya drongo!”

    ‘I think they’re won’ful,” she replied defiantly, sticking out her little round chin.

    “You’ve had too much fizzy wine,” decided Brtelli firmly, removing her glass. “What in Federation is it, anyway?” He sniffed it cautiously

    “Nothing in the Federation at all!” chirped Gl’nndy. She went into a gale of giggles.

    “You’ve had too much, too,” noted Bennu, not bothering to remove her glass.

    As no other being was offering, though it could see that several of them knew, Trff explained: “Jooterberry wine. Beings make it in their back yards. A being can buy it downtown, seventeen stalls sell it. Jooterberries grow wild here,” it added helpfully.

    “Ya don’t eat them, though. Well, they’re not sweet, but not really sour. I mean—hic!—ya can eat them,” added Gl’nndy. “There’s loads down Jooter-jooter Cut. Not ripe yet.”

    Since the picture she was broadcasting was of long bunches of very small dark bluish berries, Brtelli groped: “Blue? But the wine’s pink!”

    “Whaddever,” replied Gl’nndy indifferently.

    “It’s only chemo. It could explain!” Trff offered happily.

    “Uh—thanks, Trff, but I don’t think I’d understand: I’ve never done chemo,” he croaked.

    “Just as you-it—hic!—likes!” it replied jauntily.

    “What’ve you-it-hic been drinking?” asked BrTl glumly. This jooterberry pink muck didn’t do a thing for him. Well, possibly if he drank a barrel of the stuff he’d get a mild tickle, yes, but a whole barrel? Pink? Ugh!

    “Only fermented laa,” replied Trff meekly.

    Only! Well, that explained it!

    “Well, you-it had better stop. The BrTl thinks you-it’s had enough.”

    “So that still rankles after all these—hic! Pardon it! IG years!” it finished jauntily.

    “Yes, it hic does,” he grumbled.

    “BrTl, are you still hungry?” asked Brtelli kindly.

    Great galloping grqwary gizzards, it had finally dawned! Well, on one being here present: Gl’nndy and Bennu were looking mildly surprised, Su was ignoring the whole bit and Fallon was very pink again. Embarrassment? Why? “Yes, actually. That globby brown bean muck wasn’t bad, mind you. Could’ve had more sugar in it.”

    Su came to. “Could’ve have had more sugar in it if we want you as high as Trff is! –NO!” she snapped, grabbing the flask of fermented laa just as a tentacle was reaching for it.

    Brtelli bit his lip. The old ship-companions were now both emanating gloom! “Look, there’s loads of that salt meat left—leg of something, don’t ask me what—and at least half a cold grqwary, shall I pop over and— Okay, I will!” he said with a laugh, getting the message.

    When he came back with a huge platter of cold meats there was a small bowl of agar-agar precariously balanced on it but nobody dared to laugh as he set it down in front of Trff.

    “Better?” he said kindly, when the best part of two large grqwaries and a half a haunch of cold something-or-other had vanished down BrTl’s gullet.

    BrTl sighed deeply, thoughtfully directing it away from smaller, not to be anything-ist, beings. “Yes, thanks, Brtelli, that hit the spot!”

    “Yes—hic! Thank you-it, Brtelli!” agreed Trff.

    “Don’t worry: the laa does that to it with or without agar-agar to sop it up. Mind you, not a bad move,” allowed BrTl. It dawned that he’d said it aloud. “Mok shit! Sorry, Trff.”

    “Not at—hic! Oops, pardon it!—all. It’s been a jolly good feast!” it concluded happily.

    “Yep, not bad at all,” BrTl had to concede, “never mind the needless to-ing and fro-ing and donging and— Ooh, heck, did I say than out loud?” he realised as the smaller beings present collapsed in gales of laughter, even Su. “Oh, well! Last toast to Blndry and Nudge, eh? Better have spring water, Trff. The little pink being, too,” he added kindly.

    Fallon’s and Trff’s glasses having been filled with spring water and everyone else’s with fizzy pink jooterberry wine, they all raised their glasses to drink to—oops! Trff must have thought it was a formal occasion, because it had stood up on its chair—well, short being, to be merely literalist, no blame there—and was toasting:

    “To Blndry and Naranth Upad’h deeandreR G’rg! All the best for their future as bond-partners!”

    Er... Well, that was the being’s official name, yeah. N,U,D,G, geddit? Right. BrTl drank.

    Jhl collapsed in sniggers. “It didn’t really? Priceless!”

    “Thought you’d like it,” agreed Brtelli smugly.

    Fallon hadn’t thought it was funny. She was very pink.

    Jhl blew her nose. “They were both well away, were they?”

    “BrTl and Trff? In BrTl’s case it was only food, Captain,” he replied politely.

    “Only! Thank the Federation we can’t get nymbo cheese here! I don’t think I’ll ask how much quoshy pie he ate,” she added hastily as visions of ranks upon ranks of pies, all liberally encrusted with icing, drifts of icing sugar, icing sugar flowers, and—great splintered shards of quog!—flowers made of crystallised quoshy, danced before her mind.

    “Er—no. Sorry. But he did have plenty of meat.”

    The report was being given at morning tea, so most of the other beings in the transcribers’ big room were listening avidly. “I wish I’d of been invited,” said a small part-friymanoid girl sadly. –Greenish, the being had humanoid from Little Beishyungkwo in her as well as Whtyllian. She was about Fallon’s age and as about as naïve, but her handwriting, oddly, was excellent—very clear.

    “Never mind, D’ffni,”—one of the many named after their D’ffni, yep—“you’re all invited to Hallikalli’s bond-partnering!” said Jhl kindly.

    ”Yes,” agreed Brtelli with a grin. “Try stopping Mother,” he murmured drily.

    “I don’t think I’ll ask how she’s gonna manage the food for such a huge crowd,” noted Jhl.

    “Oh, she’s looking forward to it!” he assured her.

    “Yeah, well, First Cook Kadry was busting to help, so I’ve said she can go over.”

    “Great! Whtyllian goodies as well as C’T’rean and Friyrian ones!” he gurgled.

    Jhl smiled palely as visions of First Cook’s plasmo-blasted syrup-soaked pastries—at least fifteen kinds—and First Cook’s b’rfiis, the congealed thick pastes like Bluellian fudge with the massive amounts of sugar, danced before her mind...

    The IG-legal declaration of bond-partnership being always the same, and New Z’therabad having only one being that did Official Recorder, Hallikalli’s bond-partnering to Riffan Morthiwell—very decent being; bright, too—was exactly the same in all respects as Blndry’s to young Nudge, so why the beings couldn’t just have combined the ceremonies and got it over with in one fell swoop—

    BrTl, you’re broadcasting, warned Su sourly.

    Brtelli, sent Jhl to the agonised emanations of What? He still hasn’t got it? coming from the young friymanoid: just don’t let it worry you. It’s all been explained to him a megazillion times, but it doesn’t sink in—nothing affective to relate it to.

    Xathpyroids don’t have bond-partnerships, added Shank’yar kindly.

    Poor Brtelli went a dark indigo shade as he realised that not only Captain Smt Wong Vt R’aam but also Leader Vt R’aam himself had picked him up. Thank you, my Lord; thank you, Madam Captain, he sent feebly. Help, was that correct diplo manners, precedence-wise?

    Yes, agreed his father. But I do assure you that neither of them would have minded or thought the worse of you if you’d got it wrong. Just relax, dearest offspring.

    It was actually quite hard to relax, with Mother in floods of tears—happy tears, but not all of those present understood that—Jhlelli and plasmo-blasted Athlor trying not to snigger at BrTl’s reactions, and Su emanating a mixture of jealousy of Hallikalli’s get-up, sourness because of something to do with boots that he wasn’t going to examine further, and just general gloom. Not to say with Fallon way back at the back of the crowd with the irritating Gl’nndy and Bennu, whom she seemed to have adopted as her best friends. He’d urged her to join the family, but she’d writhed with embarrassment and gasped that she couldn’t possibly. –Oh, Federation! The Official Recorder had pronounced them bond-partners and now Wessy Kally had joined Mother in the tears!

    “Come on, BrTl,” said Jhl kindly. “It’s the feast next—over at Silver Rhoofer Farm.”

    “Uh—what about the second ceremony, though?”

    “No, that was a one-off, part-Nblyterians for the use of,” she said briskly. “Coming?”

    He brightened. “In quintupled 5-D triangles! –Want a lift?”

    Jhl swallowed a sigh. “Better not. Shank’yar’s using his vacuum-frozen ‘carriage’, remember? I have been in one before; dunno if you’d remember. Rh’aiiy’hn had one, back on Old Rthfrdia, that time. Pulled by four horses.”

    “The not-really-Rh’aiiy’hn do: the Raj-being do,” Trff reminded him.

    “Uh... Oh! Yes. If it’s the precise moment I’m thinking of, those horses knew the Raj-being wasn’t actually Rh’aiiy’hn: if I’d had the sense to take notice of them me and Jhl wouldn’t’ve had to wonder if it was all being mind-suggested to us.”

    “What are they talking about?” cried Su.

    Jhl repressed an urge to clear her throat. “Never mind, dear, it was yonks back and it all worked out okay in the end.”

    “Yes. –Those horses were really decent beings,” BrTl remembered, “and those other ones that we met, Su, in the Vvlvanian-cursed snow: that was on Old Rthfrdia, too!” he recalled proudly. “Sixty times the nous of those rhoofers your senior cognate’s got pulling his carriage.”

    “Sixteen?” echoed Su dubiously.

    “No. Sixty.”

    She gulped but conceded: “You’re prolly not wrong.”

    “I could give you a lift,” he offered hopefully.

    It couldn’t be worse than being jolted around by those plasmo-blasted rhoofers of Dad’s! “Righto: thanks, BrTl. You won’t gallop, though, will you?”

    “’Course not. Coming, Trff?” –What was it hesitating for?

    It’s wondering if it’s diplo manners to leave before the official party and before the Leader and his-its party.

    “Yes! Go!” said Jhl loudly before the numbed BrTllian brain could formulate a reply. “This isn’t a diplo occasion, and in fact we’re not having any diplo occasions, Trff!”

    But the young friymanoid being was wondering about diplo manners and prec—

    Manners. Comes from a nice home. “Just go. I’m about to hoik Shan out of it.”

    “Right you are—hic!—Captain!” It essayed a wobbly salute. Hurriedly BrTl picked it up in a pseudopod, and they went.

    “Dare I ask what misguided being gave Trff fermented laa this morning?” Jhl groaned.

    Su was silent.

    “Well? I could just read–”

    “No! If ya must know, it was stupid Vt R’aam Thirty-Two! He said it had better have a sip, it might help it stop trying to understand and just observe, he’s due for Mullgon’ya!”

    “Uh—well, it was a good try,” said Jhl fairly.

    “Mum, he’s lived with it all his life!”

    Jhl smiled a little. “Su, darling, he’s not as intuitive as you. Tries to rationalise everything. Quite a common fault in very intelligent beings.”

    “A fault? Thought you thought he was perfect?” sneered Su.

    “Then you must be due for Mullgon’ya.”

    The family had all ridden into town for the ceremony on their rhoofers. On the way back to the farm Ccrainchzzyllia said thoughtfully: “I’m wondering if that was a mistake.”

    “What?” gasped Dohra, nearly falling off Silver Shadow.

    “No, no, darling! I meant, inviting anyone from outside the immediate family to the official ceremony. Well, you must have noticed! BrTl and Trff were completely puzzled, most of the younger people were bored—no, well, most of their elders, too, though they concealed it well—and poor little Su was in agonies.”

    “Ccrain, I—I thought we’d agreed she’d got over the thing for Riffan,” she said, glancing cautiously at Hallikalli and her new bond-partner, a little way ahead of them.

    “Oh, certainly. And I would never claim that that stint in the fishing village didn’t do her a lot of good. No, darling: it's largely bond-partnering as such—Brtelli said she was miserable at her friend Blndry’s ceremony, too, remember?—and Hallikalli’s and Riffan’s having known each other for such a relatively short time is making it a lot worse for her.”

    “So why doesn’t Vt R’aam Thirty-Two ask her to be his bond-partner?” she burst out indignantly, the round cheeks very flushed.

    “I haven’t liked to pry. But I think her being Lord Vt R’aam’s daughter and his being an ex-clone is certainly a factor.”

    “Pooh!” said Dohra crossly. “Everybody’s equal on New Whtyll: it’s not like the silly old two galaxies!”

    Ccrainchzzyllia didn’t argue the point. “Yes, but that certainly wasn’t so on the Expedition Fleet ships, where he was cloned. But I think that would weigh a lot less with him if Su weren’t treating him so unkindly.”

    “Um, Jhl said he was very distant with her the day she got back from her recipe-book trip.”

    “Mm. I got the impression he was waiting for her to—well, to show him some kindness, to put it simply.”

    Dohra gaped at him. “And you think being distant was the right thing to do?”

    “I—”

    “You’re both due for Mullgon’ya!” she cried. “Girls aren’t like that! If he was distant, how was she supposed  to react? Throw herself at him?”

    “Oh,” he said lamely. “I see your point, darling.”

    “I should hope so!” Dohra’s rosebud mouth firmed. “I’ll think about it,” she decided.

    A promise, or a threat? He concealed a wince.

    “Oh!” said Riffan with a little laugh, looking at the giant platter of a white grain with some sort of pale poultry, liberally decorated with pale pink petals interspersed with a few strips of silver leaf. “Is it? It can’t be!”

    “Yes!” beamed his new mother-in-IG-law, leaning forward. “Me and First Cook worked it out between us! She said the cook at the big house near where she grew up used to make something like it, and she’s pretty sure it’s right. Go on, try it!”

    “Mother, it isn’t too hot, is it?” asked Hallikalli anxiously.

    Dohra shook her head, smiling. They watched as Riffan tried it...

    “Perfect! It’s even got... I don’t know, but something scented? Not too much, just a suggestion. It’s wonderful, Dohra! Thank you so much! And please thank First Cook Kadry for me.”

    “I’m glad you like it! And you can thank her yourself, she’s only in the kitchen.”

    Ccrainchzzyllia watched in some amusement as his new son-in-IG-law, trying not to look stunned, obediently went over to the farmhouse. –The weather was glorious, so as Dohra had invited everyone they knew and quite a few beings they didn’t, or at least he didn’t, the feast was laid in three large marquees joined together, on the lawn. BrTl had immediately spotted that they were Space Issue tents of the type issued to Space Patrol personnel, cut up and ruined, with bits of coloured cloth stuck onto them, but possibly only about thirty beings had picked him up!

    Space Issue tents, even the large ones, didn’t have corners, but BrTl was pretty comfortable, nevertheless. “Good,” he conceded, having engulfed a whole roasted po-goose. “Didn’t really need that bread and vegetable stuff inside it, though.”

    The feast featured at least a dozen roast po-geese, so other beings had also been able to try some. “The stuffing’s lovely, you asteroid-head,” said Su crossly. “It must be one of Dohra’s, it’s got loober seeds in it.”

    “Yes,” agreed Trff mildly. “Those ones she-it planted ran mad—figure of speech. They like the climate here—figure of speech.”

    Used though they were to it, Su and BrTl eyed it doubtfully. “Trff, they do like the climate here, Dohra says so! What’s figure-of-speechy about that?” said Su at last.

    “Whab she shaid,” agreed BrTl through a mouthful of fried grqwary breast. “Hob! Goob, though!” he gasped.

    “It’s got blasterberry sauce on it, didn’t you even stop to look?” retorted Su. “Go on, Trff, what?”

    “A sauce of ground blasterberries, H2O, salt, finely—Hic! Sorry!—finely chopped cepo, ground juniper berries, and mashed quoshy, that’s what makes it red, all cooked up tog— Sorry. It will stick to the point, Su. Loober seed plants can’t like anything, they’re plants.”

    There was a short silence.

    “Whatever blobs you up?” suggested BrTl.

    “In quintupled 5-D triangles!” Su agreed fervently. “Honestly, Trff! How much fermented laa have you drunk today?”

    BrTl’s mind-message of Don’t answer that! came too late. “Four point three zero seven S/IG shot glasses, humanoid-size. Rounded to the nearest—hic!—decimal point. Pardon it.”

    Very cautiously BrTl poked its fluff with a pseudopod. “Rounded to the nearest hic decimal point is right! Just don’t drink any more of the stuff today, that’s an order!”

    “Right you-it is, First,” it agreed meekly.

    BrTl rolled his eyes slightly, but reached for a pie, nonetheless. “Ooh! Mea’ in a pie!” he discovered. “Goob!”

    Su sighed. There was far too much food, acksherly. She tried not to look down at the far end of the table opposite, where Vt R’aam Thirty-Two was sitting with S’zzie. When they'd got back from the recipe-book trip she’d discovered that S’zzie had gone to join Trff’s team permanently, as Manager. Well, BrTl called it I/C Chemo Personnel, but Manager was the being’s rank. Most of her job was keeping the engineers’ minds firmly on the task in hand and prioritising stuff for them, and no being could say they hadn’t needed a being to do precisely that! Su hadn’t admitted to anybody that she was very glad that S’zzie and Vt R’aam Thirty-Two were no longer sitting cosily together in his office every day. He had replaced her, but only with a lorpoid ex-clone who was very good at accounts.

    “What? No, thanks,” she said dully, as BrTl urged a plate of First Cook’s b’rfiis on her. Coloured green—he was sending her the exact shade in Slaetho-Xathpyrian but she almost managed to pretend she wasn’t picking it up.

    “They’re not the ones with the nuts in them but something else,” he said on a hopeful note.

    Su sighed again. Those ones with the nuts had been a one-off: some diplo idiot had brought out a bag of special green nuts from the two galaxies for Dad, must of been at least seven years back, and First Cook had made a batch of nut b’rfiis for his birthday. Why BrTl had retained that, when you considered all the stuff he let slide by him—

    “They were green,” he said meekly. “Interesting.”

    “Oh—goddit,” she agreed listlessly. “Um—no, thanks BrTl, I’ve had enough.”

    “Oh, well.” BrTl engulfed the plateful. He emanated surprise but swallowed and conceded: “Not bad. Sweet. Pure vegetable matter, I think, but never mind.”

    “Yeah: the like, mushy part, I think that’s hu flour. The green’s a plant. She uses it in puddings, too. Long leaves, she just bungs the whole leaf in, it looks weirdo, but when it’s done its thing she takes it out. Like, the colour and the taste come out of it, you see.”

    “Was that recipe in the book?”

    “Nah, it’s a bit tricky, and then Vt R—they thought we shouldn’t encourage beings to use up loads of sugar.”

    “Pity! –Can you get them from the stalls downtown?”

    BrTl, said Jhl’s voice grimly in his head, you are NOT gonna buy sweets from the downtown stalls! That’s an ORDER!

    “Bother,” he conceded sadly.

    Su smiled a little. “Was that Mum?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Serves ya right.”

    She sounded a bit brighter: he looked at her hopefully. “We could go and look at that little house you like, tomorrow.”

    “Um, yeah. Okay. I’m fed up with living with Mum and Dad, and I’m grown up, now.”

    Possibly some of that statement was true, mm. But would the senior cognate ever wear her going off to live by herself in a very small house about ten xathpyroid minutes, walking at a reasonable pace, from the big house? Nearly half a local hour at a Su pace. Oh, well, remained to be seen! Since no being seemed to be interested in that other plate of little roundish things, he might as well— Ooh! Yum! Brown, didn’t look all that exciting, but they tasted super-good!

    A few seats along from him two young transcriber beings who’d been going to try those lovely little cakes with the bongo bean icing in a sort of piled-up swirl, dotted with lovely crystallised quoshy flowers, sighed resignedly. They had been warned about sitting anywhere near BrTl, but he was so big and furry, and friendly—

    “BrTl,” said Su uneasily—was Mum still monitoring him?—“those little cakes had about as much icing as cake. I mean, they musta been fifty percent icing.”

    “Approximate—hic!—ly,” agreed Trff. “And about seventy-eight percent sugar, over all.”

    “That’s what bond-partnering feasts are for!” replied BrTl happily, broadcasting extreme good will.

    Su tried to smile. Yeah. Something like that.

    The little house on the estate had originally been intended for a herder. A cottage, according to Dad, but the rest of the planet thought of it as a little house. Humanoid scale, unfortunately, so BrTl wouldn’t be able to come inside when he visited her.

    “It’s got nice grass outside it, though,” he said comfortably as they looked at it from a little rise. “We can sit out there most of the year. I could lean my back against that tree. Ooh—are those big bean pods on it the bongo ones?”

    “Yes, but don’t get excited, the brown stuff isn’t acksherly sweet,” Su reminded him.

    “Oh, no. Pity. Well, come on, wanna look inside?”

    She agreed eagerly and they went on down to the house.

    Just as Su was crying: “It’s really pretty!” its front door opened and Vt R’aam Thirty-Two came out.

    “What are you doing here?” she gasped.

    “Good morning, Su; good morning, BrTl. I’ve just moved in.”

    BrTl gulped: he felt as if his actual tail had dropped off, and judging by the feelings emanating from her, Su felt the same. Give or take the absence of humanoid tails, so to speak.

    “Er—My Lord agreed I could use the house,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two, resisting the temptation to see what the matter was. Surely she couldn't begrudge him a little house on the estate? Well, for the last several months she’d seemed to begrudge him everything else, up to his very existence, true; though he couldn’t see what in the Known Universe he’d done wrong—

    “I— Right. I see!” gulped Su. “Well, we just come over for a walk, eh, BrTl?”

    “Uh—yeah,” he croaked. “Come on, we’ll go back, eh? I’m supposed to get into town later this morning, Athlor’s asked me to help with some agricultural thing, not sure what, and it’s got engineers in it, I’m not saying it’s gonna be good or even do what it’s supposed to, but I said I’d help.” And he hoisted her up with a pseudopod, popped her on his back, and loped off.

    Vt R’aam Thirty-Two had gone very pale. Presumably she did begrudge him the house, then! Or had BrTl merely sensed that he was the last being she’d wanted to see? ...Both, probably. Well, thank the Federation he had had the sense to ask My Lord if he might use a small house on the property. Because frankly, he couldn’t have stood another day under the same roof as Su! If they came down to breakfast at the same time she’d either vanish into the kitchen or say she wasn’t hungry and go outside, at work she never collected any copying herself, at lunchtime she stuck like glue to those kids she shared an office with, and at dinnertime she never addressed a word to him!

    Little Fl’Jfaffl was dead. It didn’t come down to breakfast—well, it had been sleeping in a bit, lately, true—but by the time the family had finished it still hadn’t put in an appearance, so Su ran upstairs to the Flppus’ room. Oh, dear. Floods of tears: she came down carrying the poor little bundle of puce fluff.

    “Darling, it had a happy life with us,” said Jhl limply, putting her arm around her.

    Su just sobbed.

    “Yes, it had a happy life with us, Young Mistress!” agreed Fl’Oo-ooueroii anxiously. “And it was a good age, poor little Fl’Jfaffl.”

    It hadn’t, of course, been as old as it was, but fortunately Su didn’t take this in.

    “Don’t cry, Su-Su,” said Shank’yar with a sigh. “We’ll give it a proper funeral, shall we? And your mother’s right: it was happy with u—”

    But alas, Su’s sobs had redoubled themselves.

    It could stop that water-from-the-eyes, offered Trff glumly.

    No, Jhl’d spot you. Though I grant you some of us, BrTl replied pointedly, would be quite happy for you to do it.

    They were all standing round helplessly, even the senior cognate, when Vt R’aam Thirty-Two rushed in, gasping: “What’s the matter with Su?”

    Must’ve come over from his little house early, BrTl noted.

    Yes, he-it was in the stable block, it means offices, Trff replied.

    “Poor little Fl’Jfaffl’s dead, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two,” said Jhl heavily.

    Trff emanated bewilderment. He-it realises that.

    Humanoid stuff, replied BrTl briefly. He didn’t clear his throat, though he felt like it: the dining-room, though quite big, wasn’t huge by humanoid standards. “Su’s upset about it, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two,” he explained. “Leader Vt R’aam’s already told her we’ll have a proper funeral for it—didn’t help. Humanoid-style, I think, was it, sir?”

    “Mm,” Shank’yar agreed wryly. “Er—nothing like the pictures you got from the third cognate that time on New Qrbgg, BrTl.”

    He-it means generically like, but different in detail, Trff decided.

    BrTl would have told it to shut up, only it had dawned that it was upset, too. Yes.

    The senior cognate was deciding that they’d have iirouelli’i flowers at the funeral—deluding himself that this’d comfort Su? No, all right, Trff, hoping it would but not deluding— Right.

    “We could plant some on the grave,” offered Jhl.

    “Yes, that’d be nice!” agreed Vt R’aam Thirty-Two quickly.

    This didn’t work, either, Su just went on doing the water-from-the-eyes thing.

    Finally the senior cognate gave in and poured small shots of qwlot for all the humanoids, a small shot of fermented laa for Trff, and a small—smallish—shot of qwlot for BrTl. And, most unfortunately, though the being meant well, a very small shot of iirouelli’i juice for Fl’Oo-ooueroii. Su gave a wail as the blue one raised its glass, and rushed out, still clutching her little puce bundle.

    BrTl downed his shot hurriedly. “Come on, Trff, give you a ride into town, eh? Anyone else want a lift?”

    “Heartless?” it replied in bewilderment.

    “No, sorry: that was me!” gasped Jhl. “I was only thinking thank the Federation Su’s gone out: she’d have thought you were heartless! Sorry, didn’t mean to broadcast, Trff.”

    “Er—yes,” Shank’yar admitted. “I was thinking the same thing, I’m afraid, Trff.”

    “And me,” admitted Vt R’aam Thirty-Two.

    “So do we go or not?” asked BrTl foggily, as loud sobs came from the direction of the front hall. Uh—Vt R’aam Forty-Nine?

    “Yes: go!” said Jhl quickly. “Uh—use the verandah door, I think, BrTl.”

    Trying not to shudder as the noise from the front hall got louder, BrTl agreed: “Right!”, picked Trff up in a pseudopod, and went.

    Silence reigned in the Vt R’aam dining-room.

    Vt R’aam Thirty-Two cleared his throat. “Er—is there a Flppu funeral ceremony, Fl’Oo-ooueroii?”

    It brightened, even the blue fluff seeming to perk up. “Ooh, yes, respected Vt R’aam Thirty-Two! All the beings stand round, and then they dig a great big hole, and put the dead cognate in it and cover it up with the earth, and then they put lots and lots of flowers on top of it, ’specially iirouelli’i flowers, and everyone drinks the barrels of ale and the shots of iirouelli’i juice!”

    “Lovely!” said Jhl quickly. “Tell you what, Fl’Oo-ooueroii, let’s go out into the garden and see how many of the iirouelli’i plants are flowering, shall we?”

    “Ooh, yes! Lovely, Great Mistress!” it squeaked, offering a flexible appendage.

    Jhl took it gently in her humanoid hand, and they went out by the verandah door.

    “That was as clear as it’s going to get, I'm afraid,” noted Shank’yar drily.

    “Yes, sir,” the ex-clone agreed ruefully. “—I know! I’ll go over to Silver Rhoofer Farm: Ccrainchzzyllia will be sure to know: Flppus originate on Friyria, after all!”

    Not pointing out that there were possibly more important things that the Deputy Leader should be doing this morning, Shank’yar agreed tranquilly: “Yes, fine, dear boy: you do that.” As Vt R’aam Thirty-Two hurried out he shook his head slowly. “Well, we might as well know if the plasmo-blasted beings do have any sort of funeral ceremony of their own,” he muttered, “but will Su thank him for doing it?” He made a wry face and, squaring his shoulders, went out to the front hall, where he relieved his feelings by stopping Vt R’aam Forty-Nine’s sobs in his throat for him.

    The Flppu funeral ceremony being very simple, it was. Ccrainchzzyllia had explained that they did bury their dead—much to Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s relief: on the way to the farm he’d had time to recall that some beings had funeral pyres, others left their dead on high rocky places for scavengers to pick the bones, still others did bury their dead temporarily, then dug them up, cleaned the bones and stored them in elaborate boxes, others preserved the bodies in some sort of alcoholic fluid—there was an Intergalactic word for the process but he couldn’t  remember it—and some threw their dead into the sea... Su’s reaction to several of these rites would be indescribable, he rather thought. Phew! A simple burial, and there were no special words the Flppus said over the graves, but on Friyria their Friyrian masters sometimes said a few words and scattered flowers, Friyrian-style. Flppus had no written language, so there were no humanoid-style grave markers, but they often put a special stone on the place. And his own Flppus had been very pleased when Dohra had wanted to plant flowers on the graves of their dead.

    “Goodbye, dear little Fl’Jfaffl,” gulped Su, as Vt R’aam Thirty-Two and her father between them lowered the tiny coffin into the grave. She threw the bunch of pale pink iirouelli’i flowers she’d been clutching into the grave, stepped back and burst into tears.

    “Oh, dear! Goodbye, dear little Fl’Jfaffl!” twittered the blue one, throwing its bunch of iirouelli’i flowers. –It had insisted on copying Su, though Ccrainchzzyllia had assured them that wasn’t usual.

    “I’ll help,” said BrTl quickly, as Vt R’aam Thirty-Two then picked up a shovel. They shovelled dirt silently. It took about five IG minutes.

    “Fl’Oo-ooueroii, my dear little Flppu,” said Ccrainchzzyllia kindly, also sending it—it had been asked this before, but the answer hadn’t been coherent—“would you like someone to say a few words of farewell?”

    It replied with a sort of bob: “A few words would be most kind, respected Lord Ccrainchzzyllia,” but as it said it in Friyrian, and as of course no-one was using translators these days, only he and his family got it.

    Shank’yar swallowed. “Mother did get it from Friyria,” he said into the numbed silence. “A megazillion IG years ago,” he ended weakly.

    “Of course,” replied Ccrainchzzyllia nicely. “I’ll just say a few words in Friyrian, then, if you'll excuse me?”

    Everyone nodded numbly and he said, considerately sending it in Intergalactic as well: “Farewell, dear little Fl’Jfaffl. You were a good little puce Flppu.” As “jfaffl” was the Friyrian for “puce” and as “Fl’” was commonly used as an abbreviation for “Flppu” on Friyria, his immediate family members were seen to gulp.

    “That is what they say on Friyria,” murmured Dohra. “Goodbye, dear little Fl’Jfaffl.” She was carrying a basket of flowers: she sprinkled some on the grave. “You were a good little puce Flppu.”

    Those who bother, noted Brtelli drily, taking some flowers and following suit.

    Fl’Oo-ooueroii was now emanating expectancy, so Jhl put her bunch of iirouelli’i flowers on the pathetic little mound, giving her numbed bond-partner a sharp mind-prod as she did so.

    Shank’yar jumped slightly. “Yes; come along, everyone!” he said encouragingly, laying his bunch of iirouelli’i flowers on the grave, as the other members of Ccrainchzzyllia’s family scattered the rest of the assorted blooms from Dohra’s basket.

    The entire Vt R’aam household had of course wanted to attend the funeral. Jhl had had to put her foot down about the number of iirouelli’i flowers that would be needed if everyone had a whole bunch—the things had become quite a popular garden flower on New Whtyll, but the scent didn’t appeal to all beings, and you couldn’t buy them downtown—and so most of the servants were only holding one or two flowers each. Though dratted Vt R’aam Forty-Nine had a bunch. Oh, well: Federation knew the being had—disapprovingly, true—brought the poor little puce one enough sips of iirouelli’i juice over the last few years, Jhl acknowledged silently as he laid his bunch down, bowed, and wiped his eyes.

    First Cook Kadry had one pink iirouelli’i flower amidst a great bunch of apricot New Whtyllian ming flowers, and two fronds of yellow Phang-Phangian senso-orchids—well, the being had looked wistfully at the ones in pots on the verandah, and the things grew like weeds here, so why not? She was hesitating, looking warily at the potty blue one.

    “Yes, go on, First Cook, that’s a lovely bunch of flowers.” said Jhl quickly.

    “That’s a lovely bunch of flowers, respected First Cook!” it squeaked.

    “Oh, good,” she said in relief, laying them on the floral mound. “Bye-bye, Fl’Jfaffl, deary,” she said. “We’ll all miss you.”

    Jhl found that at this she was sniffling—drat!

    Because the flowers are different? groped Trff.

    Er—no. Just don’t try to understand, there’s a good old Trff, replied BrTl heavily. “Pop your bunch of flowers on the grave, Trff,” he prompted.

    “Oh, yes, a being pops its flowers on the grave,” it agreed, laying its small bunch down.

    Su had insisted BrTl bring some of the plasmo-blasted things, too: the smell got up both your noses, it was Vvlvanian-cursed horrible. Gl’nndy was kindly carrying them for him. She held them out suggestively.

    Trying not to breathe, BrTl took them and dropped them on the now quite sizeable pile. Ugh! Hurriedly he stepped back.

    “Ow!” gasped Vt R’aam Thirty-Two.

    “Oh, Federation! Sorry!” he gulped. “Can’t apologise enough, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two!”

    “That’s okay,” the being lied, trying not to hop.

   —Those who were monitoring Su might have noticed at this point that she did realise what had happened and was deliberately not looking their way—bother.

    BrTl, I think he’s really hurt! sent Jhl. Broken bone in his foot, I think.

    Oh, Federation! Hurriedly he put a supporting pseudopod round the being’s waist.

    “What?” said Jhl distractedly, as the blue Flppu was twittering something. “Oh! Yes, Fl’Oo-ooueroii, everyone’s put their flowers on the grave, haven’t they? So now we’ll all go back to the house and have some morning tea. You won’t need to put your lovely stone on the grave until later on.” Had it sunk in?

    “I won’t need to put my lovely stone on the grave till later on, ’cos now it’s time for morning tea!” it agreed.

    Good enough. She took its flexible appendage, just in case it hadn’t really sunk in. “BrTl, just pick Vt R’aam Thirty-Two up, would you? I’ll look at his foot once you get him inside.”

    “It thinks that appendage is broken in several places,” agreed Trff as BrTl hoisted the ex-clone up, ignoring his polite disclaimer.

    Several places? Did it have to say that?

    “Don’t, BrTl,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two faintly, suppressing a wince. “It’s upset: we all are, naturally. And don’t worry, we’ll still have morning tea!” he added, trying to smile.

    “Yes, of course!” agreed First Cook “Now, come along, everyone!” Hurriedly she herded the house servants off.

    They were only at the far end of the lawn, near the big bongo bean tree. BrTl hung back to let the rest of them go first: he wasn’t going to risk another plasmo-blasted accident.

    “Come on, Su,” he said, realising they were the only ones left.

    “I’m not coming,” she said grimly, sitting down on the grass beside the grave.

    “But—”

    “I think we should leave her, BrTl,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two quickly, as the xathpyroid’s vision of a splendid morning tea complete with platters of quoshy pies, trays of First Cook’s b’rfiis, giant piles of raffleberry buns oozing raffleberry jam, and enormous bongo-bean flavoured cakes, topped with giant swirls of bongo-bean icing, threatened to swamp their senses.

    BrTl had a strong feeling that on the contrary, he should leave the two beings together to get on with it, but since the great BrTllian brain had failed to control the huge BrTllian hindmost foot and he’d wounded the poor being, that was it, wasn’t it? N.B.G.

    Glumly he stumped off to the house with him.

Next chapter:

https://theadmirableclone-sf.blogspot.com/2023/11/abg.html