Hands Across & Down The Middle

21

Hands Across & Down The Middle

    Jhl had put a little map of those parts of the interior of the Royal Palace with which she was acquainted in R’shn’s head. But she didn’t have to use it immediately: when the two girls arrived at the gates the guardsman on duty turned a very strange colour and gasped: “Lady! They’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

    “I went for a little ride,” she croaked. “Um, this is my friend. She’s brought my little girl.”

    The guardsman didn’t even ask to look at their QAZZEZ, he just waved them through, gasping something into his comm-blob as he did so.

    Rh’aiiy’hn got up quickly as the sitting-room door opened. “Roz! Thank the old gods! I was frantic: where have you—” He broke off.

    R’shn was incapable of anything but a gulp.

    “Thank you, Group Leader,” said Rh’aiiy’hn limply to the man escorting them.

    The Group Leader bowed himself out, shutting the door.

    Rh’aiiy’hn swallowed. “It’s quite safe to talk in this room, my dears.”

    “Um—sir, she doesn’t look like—I mean, she looks more like the Captain to other—I mean,” said L’Thea limply, “everybody else thinks the Captain always looked like that when she was Roz.”

    “I see,” he murmured. He could also see, though there was a lot of shielding there which he was in no doubt neither girl was responsible for, that they were both in an agony of embarrassment. And that though they were both scared, R’shn was far more scared than L’Thea. He could also see that she admired him very much. And that she was doing her best to shield this from him. “Allow me to say that you look very pretty indeed, R’shn.”

    R’shn blushed, gave him an agonised smile, and didn’t know where to look.

    “And now I think I’d better start calling you Roz,” he said, smiling. “Come and sit down over here, Roz.”

    Suddenly S’zzie, who had been cowering against her mother’s bosom in these unfamiliar surroundings, gave a crow and held out her arms to him.

    “She recognises me!” said Rh’aiiy’hn with a little laugh. “Hullo, S’zzie, my dear! So you’ve come to visit me in my house! –Roz, my dear, how are you going to explain her away?” he said as R’shn sat down and settled S’zzie on her knee.

    “The—the pluh-plan is, sir, that she’s mine from—from before. All the ruh-records have buh-been fixed. Um, L’Thea brought her to me, you see, suh-sir.”

    “Yes. And who is L’Thea, now?” he asked kindly.

    “She’s a blonde New Rthfrdian, sir. What I mean is, the being that travelled with S’zzie was a blonde New Rthfrdian that looked like L’Thea does now.”

    “I see,” he said kindly. “You do look very different, L’Thea.”

    “Yes. This is my natural appearance. But I haven’t looked like this for a very long time, sir!” she added hurriedly.

    “Er—no.” Rh’aiiy’hn had a look. Thundering herds of grpplybeasts! “Your appearance was somewhat different when you were my father’s s-being, I see,” he said grimly.

    “Isn’t that shielded?” gasped R’shn in horror.

    “No.”

    “They must have forgotten,” said L’Thea lamely. “Help.”

    “It’s all right: I’ll do it,” said R’shn firmly. “There!”

    Rh’aiiy’hn had another look. He smiled. “Well done, Roz!”

    “I’ve been learning a lot, sir,” she explained shyly. “Since I got better.”

    “Got better?”

    “You could look, sir,” she said shyly.

    Rh’aiiy’hn looked. His slanted blue eyes filled with tears: he swallowed hard, and looked away. The poor little thing! He took a deep breath. “Now, what do we call you, L’Thea? Still L’Thea?”

    “Well, no, sir. That name is traceable to Lord Vt R’aam, you see. Well, as S-L’Thea, but it’s easy enough to work it out.” She sighed. “My new name is L’n’ra. That’s a very common New Rthfrdian name, sir.”

    “It’s very pretty, L’n’ra.”

    “Yes, but I was at First School with a really horrid girl called L’n’ra!”

    Rh’aiiy’hn twinkled at her. “On Old Rthfrdia we might shorten that to L’nnie, as a pet name. Would  you prefer that for less formal occasions?”

    “Yes, I would,” she agreed.

    “L’nnie. I like it: it’s pretty,” decided R’shn.

    “Good: then you’ll be L’nnie to family and friends!” he said cheerfully. He hesitated a moment and then said in a low voice to R’shn: “Should we perhaps use a shortened form of Roz, too?”

    She looked at him with considerable sympathy, which he could see she didn’t dare to voice, and said shyly: “That would be nice; but isn’t it very short already?”

    A little colour mounted to the high cheekbones. “Mm. I meant a—a pet name. If you wouldn’t dislike it? What about Roz-ln? It means ‘little rose’ in Ancient Rthfrdian.”

    “Yes, please,” she whispered.

    “It suits you,” decided L’Thea.

    R’shn smiled in a confused way and buried her face in S’zzie’s soft black fuzzy crest.

    Rh’aiiy’hn looked dubiously at them. There was a terrible lot to discuss: for one thing, he had seen that the Captain had given little Roz-ln only the haziest idea of Court etiquette. On the assumption that she’d quickly pick it up as she went along? And also, he was in no doubt, because the whole subject bored the Captain herself solid. Most of what she’d absorbed about Old Rthfrdia in the time she’d been at the Mk-L’ster’s lodge she hadn’t bothered to pass on, either. Well, curse the woman! Pitchforking the child into a situation like this, almost wholly unprepared? And as for sending L’nnie to the palace with her: it doubled the risk, for the old gods’ sake! He hesitated. He could see that Roz-ln would very much like L’nnie to stay with her in the palace, but...

    Finally he said “L’nnie, my dear, I think it might be safer for everybody if you just stay here tonight, and then tomorrow perhaps go to stay with one of Roz-ln’s friends.”

    “I’d rather go back to the ship, sir!” she said quickly.

    Where the only person available to keep an eye on her, not to say to keep an eye on what was going on in her poor little head, would be the Captain.

    “No,” he said, the chiselled nostrils flaring. “I’ll speak to The Mk-L’ster. His sister is acting as one of my mother’s ladies at the moment, but with you for company she can very well go to her brother’s town house. One of Mother’s older ladies will accompany you as chaperone.” He saw that neither of them understood that word. “Old gods,” he muttered, passing a hand over his hair. “I think perhaps Mother would be the best person to explain some aspects of our culture to you both.”

    He rang the bell, ignoring their faces of horror, and asked that his mother be requested to join them.

    Mh’aaiivh came in smiling. “My dearest girl, we were so worried!” she cried, as the bowing guardsman closed the door behind her. The smile faded: she said sharply to her son: “What is it? What’s she done?”

    Rh’aiiy’hn had risen as his mother came in: the two girls, looking uncertain, had both wobbled to their feet. He put his arm round Mh’aaiivh and said to Roz-ln and L’nnie: “Mother cannot read you. But I will show her what I see.”

    There was a moment’s pause.

    Mh’aaiivh gasped, and took an involuntary step backwards.

    “Yes: she’s prettier than the Captain, isn’t she?” he said, smiling.

    “And very much younger!” said Mh’aaiivh in a shaken voice.

    “Mm. We’re going to call her Roz-ln amongst ourselves, and her friend is L’nnie.”

    “I see. Roz-ln, L’nnie, my dears: you do know this is a very dangerous thing you’re involved in?”

    “Yes, we both do,” said L’nnie shyly.

    “Yes,” agreed Roz-ln. “I’m sorry, I duh-don’t know what to call a ladyship!” she gasped, the big, slanted dark eyes suddenly filling.

    “Oh, dear,” said Mh’aaiivh under her breath.

    “The Captain,” said her son in a very dry voice indeed: “has apparently passed on only the most basic knowledge of our ways to little Roz-ln. I’d like you to take her under your wing, Mother.”

    “I most certainly shall! –You should call me ‘ma’am’ in front of others, my dear,” she said gently, “but when we’re in this room, it doesn’t matter what you call me.”

    “Yes, ma’am,” gulped Roz-ln, sniffing.

    Smiling, Mh’aaiivh went over to her and put a finger gently under S’zzie’s chin. “And who is this?”

    “S’zzie,” she said, sniffing. “She’s mine, if you please, ma’am.”

    “Yours and who else’s, may I ask, my dear?”

    “I can’t remember!” she gasped.

    “Well, really!” said Rh’aiiy’hn angrily. “That’s beyond the pale!”

    “He’s not cross with you, my dear, but with the Captain,” murmured Mh’aaiivh. “Well, hullo, little S’zzie! –Never mind, it’s immaterial, I’ve always wanted a granddaughter,” she said briskly. “You may leave it all to me, now, Rh’aiiy’hn, my dear.”

    “May we chat?” Rh’aiiy’hn said cautiously as they sat down on a little fancy sofa in in a window alcove of the big palace ballroom.

    Jhl turned carefully so that the back of her head was presented to the ballroom. “Given that approximately five megazillion of those present can lip-read, sir: no.”

    “We’d better stroll in the grounds,” he said tranquilly. He got up, and opened the long windows behind them.

    Jhl got up groggily. “Sir, is this etiquette?” she hissed.

    “No. But as the entire Court has already decided that I’ve picked out the equerry with the Belraynian delegation as my bedfellow for this evening, anything less would disappoint them.” He bowed and offered her his arm.

    Jhl didn’t bother to tell him not to plasmo-blasted bow to her when she was in uniform. They went out into the garden.

    “It is safe to talk, but keep it down,” she murmured.

    “Of course. There is a tall bi-sexual Friyrian Prince/ss in particular who appeared most intrigued to see me send for you.”

    Plasmo-blasted H’bl, of course. “Yes,” agreed Jhl sourly.

    Rh’aiiy’hn took a deep breath. “You must sense that I am very seriously annoyed. Is all this subterfuge really necessary, when you come right down to it? Do those two girls have to be here? Their lives may be in danger. Are you sure you’re not playing this game because it’s the sort of game you enjoy playing, Captain?”

    Oops: not the slightest desire to call her “Roz” instead. And he’d let go of her arm, too. Well—so much the better.

    “I think it is necessary, given that we’re up against the Full College. But I don’t think I would expose R’shn and L’Thea if Shan was safe.” She could feel his doubt. “But I am that sort of being, I don’t deny it.”

    He strode on very fast, his long legs easily outdistancing her.

    Jhl followed without hurrying. After a while he stopped and let her catch up with him.

    “The gardens are very scented, sir,” she said loudly.

    “What? Oh! Yes: roses. They’re very popular here. Do you have them on your world?”

    “No. But I am familiar with them. I once collected a cargo of them—not the flowers, the bushes—from Mklontia.”

    He received a vivid picture of a small black-haired humanoid in a merchant trader’s uniform shouting through a face-mask at a large Mklontian in the middle of a huge glasshouse. He smiled reluctantly.

    After a moment he asked: “What do you intend for Roz-ln and L’nnie?”

    “I haven’t any plans for them.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn’s nostrils flared. He walked on, not communicating.

    “What do you suggest?”

    He replied very, very angrily: “Unlike yourself, Captain, I do not propose casting those two girls aside as if they were pieces on a pwm board!”

    Jhl returned, unmoved—at least, she hoped it came over as unmoved: “I don’t know that I intend that, exactly. But L’Thea certainly hasn’t anywhere else to go. And R’shn doesn’t particularly fancy a life tending the egg sheds of Bluellia.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn did not reply for some time. Finally he said: “Whatever happens, I will be responsible for them both.”

    “Good. I won’t presume to thank you on their behalves, since you value their being-rights so highly.” –She sensed him clench his fists, but did nothing about it.

    “And if you get my father away, how will you proceed?” he enquired at last.

    “I  thought we’d just—uh—lurk somewhere and wait for him to grow up.”

    Her mind was blocked off from him. In the dimly lighted gardens Rh’aiiy’hn looked searchingly at her face. She was staring at the ground and didn’t look up. After quite some time he said: “I’ve been thinking about that. What if you find that the sorts of powers that the Full Surgeons have are necessary to help recover his memory?”

    “I don’t know. I thought I’d see if Trff could help, first, and panic later.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn had to take a deep breath. He grasped her elbow tightly. “Don’t pull away,” he said in a lowered voice.

    Jhl let him hang on to her elbow. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to express his thoughts. Then he said: “I know the Trff would start off with every best intention. But I can see various scenarios, none of which is very promising for my father. The it-being may not have sufficient knowledge of humanoid developmental psychology to help him. Or Trff may lose interest, or ingest too much fermented laa, or become very involved in some other subject.”

    “If you were going to mention that its priorities are not the same as ours, don’t: I’ve long since realised that. I’ve also realised that it probably doesn’t even recognise the concept ‘priorities’.”

    “Mm,” he murmured, squeezing her elbow.

    Jhl wrenched it out of his grasp. SO?

    “Don’t,” he said, wincing. “Well, if you find that my father makes no progress, or poor progress, I think the only solution may be to bring him to The Old Woman.”

    Jhl stared up at the starry Old Rthfrdian sky for some time.

    “Well?” he said in her ear.

    “Oh, sir, I’m afraid I could never accept such a proposition while I’m on duty!” she squeaked in a very silly voice. All right. Yes. Good idea.

    Good. “You disappoint me strangely, Captain,” said Rh’aiiy’hn with only the slightest quiver in his voice. “It would have been a new experience for me, in uniform—jointly in uniform.”

    “What in the name of Federation is it?” she said weakly.

    “This? Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Forces of the Hereditary Kingdom of Old Rthfrdia, of course.”

    “It’s got enough sparf on it,” she admitted weakly.

    Rh’aiiy’hn’s shoulders shook silently.

    “Shall we go back, sir?” she fluted.

    “In a moment.” He led her on a little way. I want you to reconsider using those two girls.

    No. Jhl turned on her heel and headed back for the ballroom. She could sense his astonishment—at her rudeness, as much as her utter refusal to discuss the matter—but too bad. Let him think she was unreasonable and hard-hearted and—unwomanly, was it? Right; and the rest of it. So much the better.

    L’nnie had now been living in The Mk-L’ster’s town house for three days and still hadn’t laid eyes on her host. The elderly Lady Fhn’Lya whom the Regent’s mother had appointed as their chaperone had explained that he was very busy. A’ailh’sa had revealed that it was all stupid politics that L’nnie didn’t want to hear about, not bothering to ascertain whether she did or she didn’t, and had further explained, with pouts, but at some length, that Lady Fhn’Lya was a princess, really—the which meant rather less than nothing to a being from New Rthfrdia, where a simple form of democracy prevailed and where the only classes were those created by wealth and power or their absence.

    The third evening of L’nnie’s incarceration in the Mk-L’ster town house was to feature a Grand Ball at the Royal Palace—BONAT QATACE, thought the false L’nnie, with an ache in her heart—which it was A’ailh’sa’s declared intention to attend. Left to herself L’Thea would not have gone near the palace: though she wanted to see R’shn again she had now worked out that it wasn’t particularly safe: the two of them being together would more or less multiply the risk of discovery—no wonder the Regent had sent her away. The elderly Lady Fhn’Lya, however, had said in her gentle way that it would be thought odd for A’ailh’sa’s guest not to accompany her, so she had given in.

    Her Royal Highness the Princess Fhn’Lya had of course asked for a choice of suitable garments to be sent along from the nicest shops, explaining to the bulging-eyed L’nnie that normally a dress would be made to her measurements, but there wasn’t time. That hopeful discussion with the former R’shn about her weaving and the possible markets they might find for it seemed very, very far away, and so did the time that BrTl had said that of course she could stay with the ship. The former L’Thea felt miserably that they’d been a pair of silly little fools even to imagine that they might be in control of their own destinies to that extent. Being L’nnie and Roz-ln was no better than being an s-being on vacuum-frozen Y-K-W; in fact, in that My Lord Y-K-W didn’t figure in the picture at all, worse.

    The ladies were ready, the ground-car was at the door, and there was no sign of The Mk-L’ster. Grimly A’ailh’sa decided they’d go anyway. Lady Fhn’Lya was lodging a distressed protest when the door opened, a bowing servant announced: “Lord Mk-D’rm’d,” and R’rt Fh’laiin limped in, smiling.

    “What are you doing here?” gasped A’ailh’sa, bounding to her feet, very flushed, L’nnie didn’t need mind-powers to see why.

    As he was in the skirt, with the fine black nyrhide dress jacket, it was obvious what R’rt Fh’laiin was doing there. He replied, bowing but with a twinkle in his eye: “I’ve come to escort you ladies to the Grand Ball. Good evening, Lady Fhn’Lya. May I say you’re in great looks tonight?”

    Lady Fhn’Lya blushed, and disclaimed, and in a great flutter introduced Lord Mk-D’rm’d to L’nnie. And they would love his escort to the ball; but did he feel quite up to it? Twinkling, R’rt Fh’laiin admitted he wasn’t up to dancing, though he thought he might walk through the Grand Step of Old Rthfrdia. But he couldn’t possibly miss the Grand Ball: it was the highlight of the pre-Fed festivities; and it might, after all, be the very last Grand Ball to be held in the Royal Palace of Old Rthfrdia.

    There was a moment’s pause, while the two Old Rthfrdian ladies looked at each other uncertainly and L’nnie stared at the floor, biting her lip. Then the gentle Lady Fhn’Lya said firmly, suddenly sounding much more like a Royal personage and much less like a fluttery maiden aunt: “That is perfectly true, and we accept your escort very gratefully, Lord Mk-D’rm’d. Come along, my dear girls, we shall not wait for Lord Mk-L’ster, it seems he is unavoidably detained.” And they went.

    “I perceive you know the Mklontian shuffle, Lady,” said BrTl, bowing low. “Shall we?”

    Not merely because the only beings who had so far taken the floor for the Mklontian shuffle were BrTl’s size or larger, L’Thea looked up at him in agony.

    “Of course: off you go, my dear!” said Lady Fhn’Lya brightly.

    The agonised L’Thea allowed BrTl to take her appendage and lead her onto the floor…

    “Hey, the Mklontian shuffle! I can do this, Aunty Jhl, BrJk taught me, do you wanna?”

    The small grqwary dropping sufficiently related to herself, having refused point-blank to wear the archaic long male robe of Bluellia, for which one could hardly blame him, was in a sort of watered-down, re-hashed, very non-Regulation version of Space Fleet dress uniform. “In my dress uniform with you in something horribly reminiscent of it?” said Jhl through her pearlized teeth.

    “He’s doing it,” said G’gg sadly, looking at a small pink-crested figure in dress uniform shuffling in the giant shadow of a Thwurbullerian.

    “And I thought these Grand Balls were exclusive affairs!” she said, rolling her eyes madly

    “Huh?”

    She was about to blast him when a tall, slim, turquoise-skinned figure in Friyrian male-tended dress clothes sauntered up to them and drawled: “Oh, but they are: would we be here, otherwise? Perhaps the cognate would care to shuffle it with me, instead?”

    “Y—Um—what about Old Rthfrdian gender customs?” she croaked.

    Frr’gg shrugged. “Does gender pertain in the Mklontian shuffle?”

    “Go on, then,” she groaned. “Uh—hang on: this is—”

    “G’gg, I can see that. I’m Frr’gg. Come on,” he said, grinning.

    Jhl watched limply as her nephew shuffled onto the floor under the kindly supervision of Lord Frr’gghurrhynvycia of Friyria. Resplendent in his silver scintillion long trousers, silvered dhrss silk dress jacket, its full skirt gathered back in the obligatory bunch over the mammalian bum, exiguous silver zpandria-cloth male blouse, and mandatory gill-collar, very much emphasising the gill area of the neck. An ear-clip covering much of the left side of the head was also required wear on these diplo occasions: Frr’gg’s was not silver-chased xrillion to match the gill-collar, but silvered old quog, intricately carved, and undoubtedly worth a world’s ransom. The two of them were most certainly a sight for sore visual organs but Jhl, frankly, was past caring. G’gg had grown, she noted morosely: all legs.

    Frr’gg was of course using the opportunity to probe G’gg as to what in Federation the lot of them were up to—he’d recognised BrTl instantly, curse his plasmo-blasted shades—but after the Ju’ukrterian appendage had been in that particular nymbo cheese pie there was fortunately not even a remote possibility that the grqwary dropping would be able to reveal a thing. In fact, emanations of bafflement were coming from Frr’gg at this moment, as he absorbed drivel relating to Pye-Class Bhylloblasters, maxi-shakes, jolly-lolly jelly, Njneeainwearian chewing-taffy, Circule Pundervarps, QAZZEZ, Kernarvian balloon flights, and the rest. Hah, hah.

    … The New Rthfrdian glide struck up. The tall, yellow-haired Friyrian bowed before the confounded R’shn. The silver scintillion dress trousers shimmered, as did the silvered dhrss silk dress jacket, with its full skirt gathered back and tied with a gauzy zpandria-cloth bow. The exiguous silver zpandria-cloth male blouse, together with the fact that the mammalian breasts had almost disappeared, signalled to the initiate that Prince/ss H’blwlldreffna was now almost fully male-tended. S/he was still wearing the long yellow moustache. And of course the gill-collar. This one was mixed gold and silver inlay on wkli shell. The intricately carved ear-clip shielding the left side of the head was also wkli shell; from it dangled a multitude of small, sparkling pale turquoise stones which picked up the pretty shade of the skin. H’bl’s thin, wiry wrists and fingers were adorned with more turquoise gems, more wkli shell, and rare wkli pearls.

    “Do you know the glide, my dear?” murmured Rh’aiiy’hn. “It’s a New Rthfrdian dance.”

    “Generally popular in humanoid societies,” said H’bl, bowing again. “May I have the honour, Lady?”

    “I’m afraid I don’t know it!” gasped R’shn.

    “Then do, pray, allow me to teach you,” said the Friyrian, bowing again.

    Rh’aiiy’hn gave in. “The Lady Roz would be delighted.”

    Shaking in her shoes, R’shn let herself be led out by a Friyrian lordship. Rh’aiiy’hn watched and listened grimly: the Prince/ss’s mind-powers were more than the equal of his own.

    It’s all right! said a cross voice in his head. Relax!

    Jumping slightly, Rh’aiiy’hn conceded: Thank you, Captain.

    … The yorble struck up. Recognising without difficulty the quality of the anguished look that M’ri was giving her as Lord Frr’gghurrhynvycia of Friyria approached them, Mh’aii’rhi Roz rose gracefully and before his Lordship could so much as utter, cooed: “Lord Frr’gghurrhynvycia! How lovely! I’d be delighted: the yorble is one of my most-favourite dances!” And glided off with him.

    … The dancers revolved in the minuet. “You’re late,” said R’rt Fh’laiin mildly.

    Drouwh scowled. “Old Rthfrdia hasn’t entirely come to a standstill just because a lot of useless Court fools are having a cursed Grand Ball.”

    “Court fools and diplo fools, isn’t it?” he drawled.

    “Yes,” said Drouwh coldly.

    R’rt Fh’laiin laughed.

    “Where’s A’ailh’sa? I suppose it was too much to hope that she’d be sitting out with you,” his old friend noted grimly. He glanced over to where Dh’aaych’llyai’n, Lady U-Fl’aiir’th and Kt-Ln were all sitting quietly on a small sofa. Dh’aaych’s eye was covered by a patch and he was rather pale but Drouwh could sense that he was feeling much better. Not to say thoroughly enjoying the reaction of horrified friends and acquaintances who had not yet seen the eye-patch.

    R’rt Fh’laiin replied calmly: “A’ailh’sa’s on the floor: just over there. She has been sitting out with me, but the girl’s entitled to some fun, at a dance.”

    Drouwh looked at his sister circling in the Friyrian minuet in the grasp of the very Friyrian who’d told that filthy story about the Captain at dinner a few nights back. His mouth tightened.

    R’rt Fh’laiin watched him uncertainly. After a few moments he said: “That’s a pretty little girl that you’ve got staying with you.”

    “What?” he said blankly.

    “The girl that Rh’aiiy’hn asked A’ailh’sa to look after. For the old gods’ sake, Drouwh, where have you been these last three days?”

    “Largely, down in the South Cwmb. There’s unrest in the processing plant. Cursed Bh’ay’llaaiyh up to his tricks again.”

    “What about your—uh—Trust, or whatever it is?”

    He shrugged. “First get the people to understand it. Well, I thought I had. Never mind: it’s settled now.”

    “Only two days to go,” murmured The Mk-D’rm’d.

    “Until F-Day: yes. Then a week of drunkenness and general mayhem. That’ll leave them in good form to vote in the Referendum.”

    “Mm.”

    Drouwh stared at the dance floor, no longer focusing. After a while he said: “Did you say Rh’aiiy’hn asked A’ailh’sa to have this girl to stay?”

    “Yes.”

    He looked at him, frowning.

    R’rt Fh’laiin shrugged slightly. “Don’t ask me where he found her. She claims to be a friend of the Lady Roz.” He eyed him drily.

    “Oh,” said Drouwh limply.

    R’rt Fh’laiin’s eyes rested thoughtfully on a small Space Fleet Lieutenant-Pilot leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, looking bored, but he said nothing.

    “Just don’t,” warned Drouwh.

    “Many may be listening but are any picking up?” he said lightly.

    Drouwh’s fists clenched: he was silent.

    “Mm?”

    “I’m certainly not picking you up, R’rt Fh’laiin,” he admitted, nostrils flaring.

    R’rt Fh’laiin shook silently.

    “Very amusing,” said Drouwh coldly, walking away from him.

    … A pink-cheeked young cavalryman in dress uniform returned L’nnie to her chaperone’s side. “There you are,” said Lady Fhn’Lya placidly. “Now, you must meet your host! Lord Mk-L’ster, may I present—”

    L’Thea didn’t really hear the introduction. She looked up weakly at the handsomest male humanoid she’d ever seen. He was very tall, and he had beautiful hair: short red-gold curls gleaming under the ballroom lights. He had wide shoulders and long legs, an even better figure than—someone else’s—but the very same slanted blue eyes and that winged jaw; and even though his colouring was different and he was taller, he looked just so incredibly like Lord Y-K-W! Two galaxies!

    Drouwh could see with no difficulty whatsoever that the pretty little blonde girl admired him. He was rather touched: she was an unsophisticated, naïve little thing. He was aware of a certain amount of shielding in her mind, but he didn’t think for a moment she was responsible for it. There was also a certain intelligence, a good deal of common sense, and some very creditable reservations about the lordship class of Old Rthfrdia and its Grand Balls, and diplo junk in general. –Diplo junk? Hm. He couldn’t imagine who she was or why the Captain had wished her on them, but as it was pretty clear she had, and as the poor little thing was clearly very ill at ease and unhappy in the company in which she found herself, he smiled very kindly indeed into her unusual amber eyes and said: “I’m very glad to meet you at last, L’nnie. And you must excuse my not being at home these last few days: I’ve been very busy.” He held out his hand. “Would you like to dance? This one’s a glide, I think.”

    “Thuh-thank you,” she whispered, putting a tiny paw in his long, strong hand.

    Drouwh led her gently onto the floor and glided gently away with her.

    I see! That was part of the plan that you didn’t have, was it? said Rh’aiiy’hn’s voice sardonically in Jhl’s head.

    Grimly Jhl ignored the Regent of Old Rthfrdia. She was getting quite good at it.

    … The Grand Step of Old Rthfrdia was announced, and every being present who had the physiology for it and had absorbed the correct Etiquette Bulletin obediently took the floor. In couples where that was appropriate to the physiology. Couples of mixed gender, where that was appropriate to the physiology. Though the Grand Step did not entail staying with one’s partner, but going down the long line of the dancers in one’s set dancing with every other partner but one’s own until one finally ended up back with one’s own partner, at which point the dance ended. Oh, well, it was no sillier than the Porbernarian shloow or the Njneeainwearian wiggle-slip-wiggle, to name but two of megazillions .

    ”I suppose it’s no sillier than the Porbernarian shloow,” admitted the Thwurbullerian with whom BrTl was dancing it.

    “Granted,” he granted.

    “I think you go that way now,” said the Thwurbullerian helpfully.

    “Thank you. Will there be supper after this?” he said hopefully.

    “No. Those nibbles earlier were supper,” the Thwurbullerian replied glumly.

    Glumly BrTl went on down the dance. Hullo.

    Jhl circled gravely with him, hand in pseudopod. Hullo.

    Are we doing this right?

    No idea.

    That’s what I thought, he acknowledged glumly.

    Trff was in another set. Hullo, G’gg.

    “Hey, Slgg! How are ya?” he cried. “This is fun, eh?”

    Trff had to run that one by its translator a second time. “Oh, yes, G’gg. Fun.”

    “You-it goes that way, now!” he pointed out, giggling madly.

    “Thank you-it,” it acknowledged glumly.

    Having reluctantly abandoned little L’nnie to the tender mercies of a set full of Court fools and diplo even worse fools Drouwh inevitably found himself face-to-face in the dance with his soon-to-be-ex-wife. Nh’raii’llyh was draped in a violently puce mn-mn silk creation clipped up with quog brooches which by rights were part of the Mk-L’ster patrimony. Huge puce Phang-Phangian senso-orchids waved on her shoulder and head.

    To Drouwh’s certain knowledge there were only three glasshouses in the whole of Old Rthfrdia that grew Phang-Phangian senso-orchids of that particular shade: his own, where there was no chance at all that she’d got them, Sh’n M’Klui’shke’aigh’s, about as much chance, and old Lord Mk-D’nl’d’s. As the old Lord was gaga and confined to his ancestral keep, that meant that she had indeed, as rumour had it, been sleeping with his eldest son, Lord U’iiain Mk-D’nl’d, a middle-aged man who ought to know better and who until the Lady Nh’raii’llyh had got her puce-painted claws into him, had been generally considered so to do. Nh’raii’llyh gave him a glance of bitter dislike. Drouwh ignored it. They danced in silence.

    … “We meet again, Lone Delegate,” said Rh’aiiy’hn graciously, not pointing out that Trff was going down the female line, because what did it matter, after all?

    It isn’t male, either.

    “Uh—no, of course,” he said weakly, smiling at it.

    Help! Where does it go now?

    “The sequence of steps one dances with each successive partner is exactly the same, Lone Delegate,” said Rh’aiiy’hn, very limply indeed.

    “Not really? Silly it!” it replied brightly, bobbing off towards the next unfortunate in the line of notionally male dancers.

    Limply Rh’aiiy’hn continued on down the dance.

   …  “Well, well!” smiled H’bl.

    Well, well to you, too, returned Jhl grimly. “Good evening, Prince/ss.”

    H’bl gave her a meaning smile and squeezed her hand. To her annoyance Jhl felt her colour rise. “This is rather pleasant, for a change,” s/he said suggestively.

    Blast it out your ear, H’bl.

    … Dh’aaych had insisted on dancing the Grand Step. Limply he let the little green fuzzy thing put a tentacle, at least he thought it was a tentacle, in his fist. Was it female?

    No.

    Jumping, he gasped: “Have we met before?”

    “No, of course not,” it said in Old Rthfrdian, at least he was almost sure it was actually speaking it and not being translated. Though the tentacle did bear an up-market translator. Though curiously, not a chrono-blob.

    It knows what the time is, local-time.

    Uh-huh: he just betted it did.

    It is Trff.

    Thought you must be, thought Dh’aaych feebly.

    He got an impression of nodding, though nothing on it moved. He swallowed hard.

    It goes this way, now. This it-being is honoured to have met you-it, Dh’aaych.

     Dh’aaych smiled weakly as it bobbed off.

    … G’gg had now encountered Mh’aii’rhi Roz in the dance. Jhl tried not to look. Or listen.

    … M’ri looked up nervously into a familiar turquoise face. Frr’gg gave up all pretence at controlling anything, clasped her to him, and whirled her in an all-too-brief delirium. Ooh, delicious! Would it were his entirely! He allowed himself to tinkle very faintly as he sent her on her shaken way.

    … L’Thea’s eyes had filled with tears.

    Don’t be like that, you were all right before, sent BrTl anxiously. That’s a bad sign, isn’t it, when that water oozes out of your eyes?

    Yes, she agreed, nodding and sniffling.

    I miss you, too.

    She sniffed and nodded.

    Will he let you keep on with the Slaetho-Xathpyrian?

    “Who?” she said, looking up at him in astonishment.

    “Uh—forget it,” he mumbled hastily. Ugh, far from forgetting it, she was mulling it over and coming to the inescapable conclusion that— Hastily he expunged the entire conversation. Better safe than sorry. Tentatively he bared his crunchers. In the past that had sometimes worked.

    She smiled faintly. “That’s really horrible.”

    “Good,” he said, hugging her to his foreleg and doing a sort of hop.

    “Is this how the dance goes?” she gasped.

    “Dunno,” he admitted.

    She went into a fit of the giggles. It wasn’t the old L’Thea, by any means, but it was better than nothing.

    … Sh’n had rotated as far as the Captain. He looked at her mockingly. “I don’t think we’ve met, er, Lieutenant-Pilot, is it?”

    “‘Captain.’ Merchant captain’s star up,” responded Jhl limply.

    “Of course; I beg your pardon,” he said solemnly. The green-blue Islander eyes sparkled: he took her in his arms for their part of the dance.

    “Oh!” gasped Jhl as she was whirled in the figure.

    Sh’n looked down at her mockingly. “That’s what this humanoid dance is supposed to be, Captain.”

    “Yes. You’re a wonderful dancer, sir,” she said limply.

    “‘Representative’,” corrected Sh’n, straight-faced. “Thank you.”

    Jhl allowed herself to be whirled round again and sent on her way, her little heart all a-flutter. There was a cursed sight more to Representative Sh’n M’Klui’shke’aigh than met the first probe through the mind-shield, that was for sure! Possibly Shn’aillaigh of U’Rhy’iior’thn was not entirely to be pitied, after all.

    … Drouwh had encountered a very beautiful woman further down his set. Tall—nearly as tall as he, in fact—with an oval, high cheek-boned, golden-skinned face, a pointed chin, slender winged eyebrows and slanted lapis lazuli eyes. Her hair was a shiny black and waved up from her smooth forehead in an intricate mass of curls sprinkled with blue and pink glittering stones and tiny pink, gold and blue butterflies with moving wings, the which Drouwh told himself firmly could not be alive. The elaborately wound gown was a shimmering gauze which constantly changed shades from gold to blue to pink as one looked at it. She smiled into his eyes as they revolved in the figure. Well met, cousin!

    His jaw sagged.

    I had no notion that we had any Whtyllian connections on Old Rthfrdia.

    “You mistake, ma’am,” he said through his pearly teeth.

    She raised the slanted eyebrows very high, gave a light laugh, and said aloud: “I do beg your pardon!”

    Drouwh went down the dance to his next partner on legs that shook. Bears’ claws, she must have recognised his father’s genetic encoding in him!

    … Shn’aillaigh looked somewhat limply up at the huge brown furry creature that was emanating friendliness and good will at her. It was a rotten dancer.

    He, he said in her head. I’m the Captain’s First Officer.

    She nodded, her eyes on stalks. GOTCHA.

    You don’t need to yell, responded BrTl happily. If you gave up this bond-partnering stuff, there might be a possibility of a position on a certain ship. With a bit of coaching in blob-control. A good shot’s always an asset to a ship.

    Shn’aillaigh looked up at him limply. “I can’t,” she said aloud.

    Ssh. I see that now. Pity.

    She looked after him limply as he shambled down the dance.

    … G’gg had now rotated as far as his cousin in the dance but Jhl was pretty well past even wanting to look.

    He-it believes she-it’s the Lady Roz, her Chief Engineer reminded her helpfully.

    Thank you for that intel, Trff.

    Trff shut up, emanating huffiness.

    … “Vlohffert,” approved BrTl. “A charming shade.”

    His Old Rthfrdian partner just looked up at him numbly, her mouth open.

    Swallowing a resigned sigh, BrTl clasped her in a pseudopod and whirled her in the figure. He was getting quite good at this. Oops! He dusted down her vlohffert garment with a careful pseudopod and sent her on her trembling way.

    … “Surely we’ve met before, my dear?” said Lord Chr’kndry K’mr of Whtyll, smiling kindly upon the devastatingly pretty little blonde humanoid girl. Mm, he’d almost forgotten how delightful blonde-haired, pink-skinned simplicity could be! Er—was it entirely simplicity? There was something—Oh. A Mullgon’ya nursing-home: poor child. But never mind, simplicity was her main characteristic now: delicious!

    L’Thea had a mad instant in which she almost said: “Yes, I danced the aarNaarNian mating dance for you in Lord Vt R’aam’s palace on Whtyll.” She swallowed. “No, Lord.”

    “Tell me,” he said in her ear: “are you permanently committed to the red-haired Lord who is half Whtyllian?”

    “Wha— No!” she gasped in horror.

    “Ah,” he said, smiling meaningfully into her eyes as the dance parted them. “Then we shall meet again!”

    … “Good evening: Captain, isn’t it? I think we have met,” said Drouwh through his pearly teeth, taking the grpplybeast by the horns.

    “How are you, sir?” responded Jhl grimly.

    “Very well, thank you. The ball’s going well, don’t you think?”

    Jhl took a deep breath. She did not descend to sending him any sort of mind-message, let alone one that suggested he blast it out his ear. She just trod viciously on his nyr-leather-clad foot with her Space Issue Number One-type boot, FW planets for the use on.

    Drouwh gasped. His face turned a sort of pale green and then went very red.

    “I’m so sorry, sir!” she fluted. “Was that your appendage?”

    His mouth tightened. He said nothing.

    Jhl waited but he didn’t attempt to do the same to her. How unenterprising.

    … “Thank the old gods,” sighed Rh’aiiy’hn as at long last he found himself facing Roz-ln again at the head of their set. She looked at him plaintively as the musicians brought the tune more or less to an end: given that they were trying to compensate for the facts that the sets were out of synch and that some beings had become hopelessly confused as to the direction in which they were supposed to be proceeding, and were still proceeding. “That was the last dance, Roz-ln.”

    R’shn sagged with relief and had to be prompted to curtsey.

    Jhl and her partner were back in the place in the set they’d started from, so possibly this was the end of this particular pile of mok shit.

    “Curtsey!” hissed paxeR.

    “Eh? Oh. So this is the end, then?”

    “Yes!” hissed the crested one, turning a strange orange shade. –Possibly embarrassment: couldn’t be sex-change, he was still too short to be anything but male.

    “Thank the Federation,” she groaned, bowing.

    He began unwisely: “That’s not a curts—” but she gave him a Look and he shut up like the proverbial dendrion nut.

    “That’s it, you can stop now,” said the Thwurbullerian kindly.

    BrTl stopped instantly.

    In the adjacent set G’gg bowed to his partner, a pretty little Old Rthfrdian girl who had no cognitive grasp of the concepts “Bhylloblaster,” “hyperdrive” and “hyperblob” at all, and very little of “left” or “right”. “’Scuse me!” he gasped. He shot down the set, dodged across the confused lines of muddled Grand Steppers, and pulled Trff bodily to a halt. Not hard: in terms of the commonly perceived Y-K-W he was something like five times its weight. “You can stop now, Slgg!” he gasped.

    Trff stopped immediately. So did at least a dozen of the surrounding muddled Grand Steppers, all emanating tremendous relief, so it hadn’t been at all an un-diplo move, really.

    Shn’aillaigh and Sh’n had got as far as the front lobby, in the midst of a milling mass of guests waiting for their vehicles to be announced, when a panting Guardsman caught up with them. “My Lady! Sir! The Regent requests your presence—”

    “A little supper?” groaned Shn’aillaigh. “At this hour?”

    Sh’n gave her a warning look. “We’ll be there directly.”

    Dh’aaych and K’t-Ln had made it all the way to the vehicle park, ignoring the earnest representations of its guardian that their vehicle could be brought round.

    “What?” he groaned. “Supper? It’s practically dawn!”

    K’t-Ln gave a warning cough.

    “Oh!” he said. “Yes, we’ll be there, with bells on! His private apartments, is it? Right!”

    “What’s wrong?” demanded Drouwh grimly as the servant closed the door to the Regent’s private sitting-room softly behind him.

    “I hope, nothing,” replied Rh’aiiy’hn calmly. “Please sit down. We’ll discuss it when everyone’s here.”

    “But we are all here,” said BrTl in confusion.

    “Not quite. –I’m sorry, Lieutenant, of course you don’t know everyone.”

    “Yes, I do,” he said in surprise.

    A’ailh’sa collapsed in helpless giggles.

    “Sorry. Hullo, female cognate,” he said, baring the crunchers carefully.

    “Call me A’ailh’sa!” she squeaked, going off into more gales of giggles.

    “See?” cried L’Thea. “I’m not the only one! Just don’t try to smile, BrTl!”

    “Er—when we met earlier, Lieutenant,” noted R’rt Fh’laiin delicately, “I’m almost sure you were introduced as Lieutenant BrJk.”

    “I would have been. –This one isn’t a cognate,” he reported. “Though the hair is red, I think?” he added delicately.

    Smiling, Rh’aiiy’hn agreed: “Certainly. The shade we call very dark auburn, Lieutenant.”

    “I knew there had to be a word for it!” he cried. He shook his wrist and gave it an evil look. “Piece of space junk.” He looked at Drouwh. “Ah: the other male cognate, of course.”

    Drouwh held out a hand, looking dry. “Yes. Drouwh Mk-L’ster. Do we call you BrTl?”

    BrTl did him the honour of taking the hand in one of his, rather than a pseudopod. Not that hand-shaking was a xathpyroid gesture, at all. He didn’t squeeze, though: he had learned not to. “Only within this shield,” he admitted.

    “Otherwise, BrJk for the purpose of the exercise!” said a voice from the doorway with a cheerful laugh. Shn’aillaigh came in with Sh’n, grinning. “If this is meant to be a light supper, Rh’aiiy’hn,” she noted genially, “could we have some, please?”

    “See?” cried BrTl. “I told you she’d be ideal! The being thinks of everything!”

    The food had been brought, and Dh’aaych and K’t-Ln had arrived and been introduced—Dh’aaych declaring breezily there was no need to, he didn’t think he could mistake BrTl or Trff for anyone else—and, certain beings having stayed the pangs sufficiently, Rh’aiiy’hn admitted: “This isn’t entirely a social gathering. We thought we’d best—er—clear the air.”

    Silence fell.

    “Don’t all speak at once,” noted Jhl drily.

    “Friyrians and Whtyllians,” offered BrTl glumly, embarking on his second roast, um, it wasn’t grqwary but tasted almost as good. “Spotting us.”

    “Quite,” said Drouwh grimly. “The Whtyllian I have specifically in mind is a tall, handsome woman who claims to be my cousin.”

    “Ah… wearing Vorsernarian butterflies tonight?” ventured Jhl.

    “Butterflies, yes,” he said drily.

    “The Lady Kmlh’aa gh R’ju Mhk-Rhajjii.”

    “A widow,” said BrTl thickly.

    The assembled company goggled at him.

    “‘Gh’ in the name,” agreed Shn’aillaigh limply. “Yes. I’d have said that sort of thing was entirely beneath your notice, BrTl.”

    “He had it explained to him in concepts of less than one syllable by a blue Flppu,” said Jhl through her pearlized teeth, “and could we avoid irrelevancies, please? –L’Thea?”

    L’Thea gulped. “There’s another one that knows Lord Mk-L’ster is part Whtyllian. He said it just—just casually!” she said on a desperate note.

    “He would. Trff? –Trff!”

    Jumping visibly, it withdrew a tube from a bowl of laa. “Yes, sir!”

    Jhl opened her mouth angrily but Rh’aiiy’hn murmured: “Let me. –Trff, if I understand the position rightly, these upper-class Whtyllians may well gossip about the blood connection between Lord Vt R’aam, Lord Mk-L’ster and his sister, and myself, but they will not perceive anything we know about Lord Vt R’aam’s condition and associated matters, will they?”

    “Not while the it-being continues to shield such matters, no, sir,” it said gratefully.

    “Good.”

    “What about the plasmo-blasted Friyrians?” said BrTl grimly. ‘There’s two here that know us and  have spotted we’re up to something.”

    “Yes,” agreed Jhl. “Added to which—” She hesitated.

    “It could tell them, Jhl,” offered Trff kindly.

    “Tell them what a cousin is?” she returned nastily.

    “Yes. But it doesn’t need to.”

    “Er—no, we all know what cousins are, Trff, old thing,” said Dh’aaych kindly, seeing that everyone else was bereft of speech. “Tell us about these Friyrians, then.”

    “The particular reference is to the being called H’blwlldreffna. That being has many cognates, some of whom are cousins. One cognate is a member of the Full College of Full Surgeons.”

    Several beings gasped, and/or cringed.

    “It does that,” apologised BrTl glumly.

    “S/he’s only a distant cousin,” admitted Jhl. “But blood relationships are very important to most Friyrians. If H’bl spotted anything that might interest the Full College, s/he might well tell the cousin.”

    Sh’n stood up, looking grim. “l have a feeling this is starting to get far more dangerous than just a little internecine political struggle on an obscure little primmo. If I’ve got it right, Trff, you can remove all memory of this complication from our minds. Will you do it, please?”

    “Everything to do with my father, the Full College and associated matters. Including the pwld mining venture, please,” added Rh’aiiy’hn.

    Trff pointed an antenna dubiously at Drouwh.

    “Not him,” said Rh’aiiy’hn with a sigh. “But definitely the other Old Rthfrdians.”

    “We’ll say goodbye, then!” said Shn’aillaigh cheerfully, getting up and taking Sh’n’s arm. They went out with farewells all round, Dh’aaych and K’t-Ln, and R’rt Fh’laiin with A’ailh’sa and L’Thea following in their wake.

    Drouwh had risen politely. He sank down onto the sofa again. “How much did you remove, for the old gods’ sake?” he said to Trff.

    “All of it,” it replied calmly.

    Jhl got up. “That appears to be that. We’d better go. You, too, Trff.”

    “This it-being is quartered in the palace.”

    “I meant get to bed, Trff! You’re not staying in here to get pissed out of your asteroid-brain on fermented laa! We need you to maintain all those shields! Now MOVE!” She strode over to the door and opened it.

    BrTl bowed deeply to the Regent. “Many thanks for your hospitality, sir.”

    Trff bobbed politely. “Indeed, a delightful supper, sir.”

    “Not at all,” said Rh’aiiy’hn with a wary eye on the Palace Guards outside the door.

    Jhl bowed stiffly. “Thank you for your gracious invitation, sir.”

    “Not at all, Captain.” Rh’aiiy’hn refrained from saying they must do it again some time. The Guards carefully closed the door after her. The brothers looked limply at each other.

    After quite some time Rh’aiiy’hn said lightly: “That leaves the two of us, doesn’t it? One wonders how much of all this was in our father’s original plan.”

    Drouwh looked at him uncertainly.

    “I gather that his mind is both flexible and devious—to an extreme degree. How much would he have anticipated, do you suppose?”

    Drouwh hesitated. “I’d say it depends how well he knows all three of them.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn’s lips twitched. “Yes.” He opened the door and looked at his brother mockingly. “Good-night, Drouwh. Feel free to speak to me at any time.”

    Drouwh took a deep breath. “Thanks for the supper. Good-night, Rh’aiiy’hn.”