Prostrate spurge was never intended to be transported from Earth. It is annoying, unattractive and useless. Nevertheless, it is ubiquitous on many colonial worlds, including Skarsia. It produces numerous seeds and grows almost anywhere, opportunistically taking advantage of cracks in walls, pavements and shipping pallets. It thrives in compacted soil, needs little water, and, in short, was nearly impossible to keep out of any migration projects which employed the transport of live, soil-grown food crops as opposed to hydroponic bays. Euphorbia maculata is damaging to human endeavors, both in its propensity to crowd out desirable plants and in eroding architectural infrastructure. Fortunately, the plant is unknown on Dolparessa. The Cu’endhari simply would not tolerate such a disagreeable neighbor.
Illustration adapted from Lukas Hochenleitter und Kompagnie, Plantarum Indigenarum et Exoticarum Icones, 1790.
I marched through the corridors with resolve. The servants and members of my retinue cleared out of my way, some bowing, some kneeling, depending on how much they bought into the story that I was some kind of god.
The immensely obvious truth occurred to me; I couldn’t even walk through my own house without attracting attention. Mauve wouldn’t come anywhere near me because I was too obvious a target.
I stepped into an empty drawing room and emerged a new man.
Another new emanation?
« There are definite advantages to being incognito, » said Mickey. « Although few have seen Darius, and his existence hasn’t been disclosed, he’s not exactly the most practical emanation to send on an undercover mission. »
I suppose that makes sense. Which one is this one?
« Dunno, » said Suibhne. « He’s the new branch on Canopus. I don’t have any more information. Tara won’t be happy that I didn’t send a card. »
« She didn’t check the cards, silly, » said Malachi. « Make it now, before she finds out. »
« OK. Um, I need a name. »
The emanation, who had been moving rapidly through the service access corridors, stopped in front of a glass-fronted pantry. He was handsome, bronze skin with high cheekbones, sharp features and piercing eyes; his unruly brown hair and unshaven appearance gave the impression that he was careless about his looks. His clothes were unremarkable: a striped sweater and denim jeans that fit loosely over a body of pleasing but unremarkable musculature. “Briscoe,” he said, “Briscoe Berkeley.”
He was quite a contrast to the vague, soft beauty of Darius, and not merely in appearance. He was focused, alert, and he moved with youthful strength and energy. It occurred to me that wherever we were going, he’d get there faster than my measured dignity or Darius’ drifting languor.
« He doesn’t look like a birch, » said Driscoll. « Although, come to think of it, Quennel doesn’t resemble an oak, either. He’s far too elegant and refined. »
« That’s odd, » said Patrick. « The shape, size, and color variations of the Atlas branches are all indicative of personality. »
« The Goliath branches started out all looking the same, but over time, they’re growing to have a more individualized look, » added Malachi.
« I and I is experimenting again, » said Dermot. « He’s playing around with personae which seem on the surface to be different from their essential natures. »
« That’s a common phenomenon in humans, » Tarlach said, « but unheard of in Cu’enashti. Honestly, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Since we’re formed to please the Chosen, why would we appear to be something that we’re not? »
« Because Tara likes surprises, » said Davy.
« This is all very nice, but where are we going? » asked Mickey impatiently.
« Let’s think in terms of practicality, » said Cillian. « Some of the immolations have been quite remote, but all of the attacks have been within 100 kilometers of Capital City. »
« That’s only 10,000 square kilometers to search, » said Mickey. « Easy peasy. »
« I don’t see you coming up with solutions, » said Cillian.
« My specialty is intelligence, » said Mickey. « But we have no intelligence on the Cu’ensali. It would be pointless to have SSOps search the forests. »
« What about the Twist? » asked Solomon.
« We could certainly ask if they’ve heard something, » said Mickey, « but it’s doubtful that if any of them are out in the forest, they’re hooked into PLOT-Twist. It might take some time for word to get back. »
Briscoe had been listening intently, getting his bearings. Now he spoke. “Hey, Marty.”
“Wilma here,” whispered a voice.
“You’re at a reasonable volume?”
“Geez, do you want me to blow your cover?”
« The Floatfish always accuse the Twist of not adjusting their voice synthesizers just to be annoying, » said Lucius.
“Wilma, has anyone spotted a Cu’ensali named Mauve?”
“Not that I’ve heard of, but Cu’ensali are pretty uncommunicative. What does this Mauve look like?”
“Well, he’s…um…”
« Mauve, » said Driscoll. « He’s mauve. »
“Mauve,” said Briscoe.
“Mauve,” said Wilma. “What the Sam Hill does ‘mauve’ mean? French mauve, old mauve, Cybaen mauve, opera mauve, Crayola mauve?”
“Um,” said Briscoe.
« Mallow, » said Driscoll. « I’m betting that Cu’ensali are literalists when it comes to vegetable dyes. »
“Mallow,” Briscoe repeated. “Also, he’ll probably be the leader of a group, which is fairly unusual amongst Cu’ensali. And he’ll have been associated with a Cu’enmerengi named Jaxxon.”
“I’ll ask around. See you soon, macaroon.”
« Worth a shot, » said Cillian. « What next? »
“This could be like looking for a needle in a pine forest,” said Briscoe. “Wynne, what would you do?”
« Trust my luck, » he said, « but you don’t have my luck. I think you should ask Ace. Ace can see probable outcomes. »
“All right,” said Briscoe. “I’m going to stand at the northwest exit. Now what’s the most probable route to find Mauve – right, left or straight?”
« Back in the house, » said Ace. « Back in the direction we came from. »
“What?”
« Tara is under attack! » shouted Lens.
« Why didn’t I know that? » screamed a panicked Marius. « Let me emanate! »
« Calm down, » said Tommy. « Tara can take care of herself. If you didn’t emanate, it’s probably because she’s in no danger. »
Indeed, when Briscoe arrived back at our suite, it was only to find Tara and Lady Lorma engaged with a swarm of angry Cu’ensali. Tara had grabbed a ceremonial sword which normally hung as a decoration, and was swinging ineffectually. Lady Lorma, poised like a trained samurai, was having more success swatting them out the window with a curfling broom.
When Tara saw Briscoe, she stopped in her tracks. An insolent Cu’ensali flew at her face, and by reflex she snatched it out of the air. It pulled and tugged and kicked at her fingers. The others, apparently recognizing the truth of Briscoe’s nature, fled for the window. He managed to capture a second in his cupped hands.
“What do we do with them now?” Tara asked. “This nasty little bugger is scratching up my manicure.”
“If we let go, they’ll just fly through the wall,” said Briscoe. “Inanimate matter is completely permeable to nul-energy. That’s why your sword didn’t work. The curfling broom was actually a better weapon since the currents it created pelted them with airborne bacteria and spores.”
“It seems solid enough,” said Lady Lorma, looking at the creature in Tara’s hand.
“Living tissue,” explained Briscoe. “Anything with bioenergy will interact with their energy fields. That’s why they had to contaminate their identachips with viruses, and why ecoshot works against them when bullets won’t.”
“Oh, so that’s why Ash and I are able…” Tara’s voice trailed off as she noticed Lady Lorma regarding her curiously. “I wonder why nul-energy does that? For something which the Domha’vei depends upon for survival, we’ve done very little study of its properties.”
“The Archon provided it,” said Lady Lorma. “When I was growing up, we just thought of it as a kind of magic. But might I suggest that you indulge your scientific curiosity later, when we’ve decided what to do about this infestation?”
“Well, matter may be permeable to them, but nul-matter isn’t,” Tara replied. “Lady Madonna, call RR labs. See if they can print that nul-matter into some kind of container.”
“What were you trying to do?” asked Briscoe of the irate sprite. “What did you think you would gain by attacking my wife?”
“Your wife?” said Lady Lorma. “Is this another emanation?”
“Apparently,” said Tara. “An unexpected one. Just call the labs before this little fucker gnaws my finger off.”
The sprite flailing in Tara’s hand was making a repetitive buzzy noise. When Briscoe listened closely, he could make out that it was screaming, “Kill! Kill! Kill!” The one that Briscoe had captured remained stubbornly silent.
It was about ten minutes before a lab technician teleported over from RR Labs. “We sprayed the interior of a hermetically sealing jar with nul-matter in an acrylic suspension,” he said. “It was the most efficient way.”
“All right,” said Briscoe. “Hold the jar under my hands, and be ready to slam the lid on once I force this guy into it.” The lab tech got into position. Briscoe opened his hands slightly, and the sprite flew into the jar, unprompted, where it huddled at the bottom, pressed up against the glass.
“Duh,” said Briscoe, slapping his forehead. “If they like the nul-universe, they’ll like this.” He took the jar from the tech and held it out to Tara. The sprite she was holding ceased to struggle and dropped limply into the container.
Briscoe peered into the jar. “All right,” he said. “If you give me some answers, I’ll close the lid.”
“Why are you being so nice to us now,” one of them asked, “when you’re the ones who destroyed our meditation chamber?”
“Meditation chamber?”
“It took us years to build it,” said the other. “Hundreds of years before Mauve could convince enough of us that it would work. Then we scoured Dolparessa, looking anywhere a little bit of nul-matter had been drawn up by accident when our roots absorbed minerals from the soil.”
“All our roots had a little bit of nul-matter in them. It didn’t exactly make life bearable, but it was better. But when we had the meditation chamber, we could find true peace. The only bad thing was that we’d eventually have to go back to the surface because we’d get treesick.”
“Treesick?” Tara asked.
“We’re connected to those damn trees. We get sick if we lose contact with them.”
“There was one other problem. Since we gave up all the nul-matter in our roots, it wasn’t comfortable to stay in the trees anymore. Plus, the more we went into the chamber, the more homesick we got. That’s when Puce got the idea that we should kill all the trees and go home.”
“But why didn’t you just immolate the trees, like Amaranth is doing now?” Briscoe asked.
“I don’t know if we should tell you that,” said the first.
“Do you want the lid on or not?”
“Puce said that if we didn’t destroy all the trees that we’d just get sucked back up again. And he meant all the trees. He said that the Cu’enashti would just keep planting family groves unless we wiped them out. That’s why he was working with that human, General Panic.”
“The plot coagulates like goat’s blood soup,” said Tara.
“And then when you started growing trees in another galaxy, well, he lost it. That’s when he started stirring up the Cu’enmerengi.”
“Why did he change tactics so suddenly?” Briscoe asked. “Why attack random Cu’enashti when that was almost guaranteed to turn the Cu’enmerengi against him?”
One of the sprites started to giggle. The other said, “He didn’t. We did that, or those like us. We were hoping you’d kill us.”
The giggles suddenly became heaving sobs. “You destroyed the meditation chamber. We couldn’t cope anymore. We just wanted it to end.”
Briscoe closed the lid. “I don’t think there’s any point in making them suffer.”
“Ash, you can’t alchemically manipulate nul-matter,” said Tara.
“Nope. The name is Briscoe Berkeley, by the way.”
“Ah, you have a surname. That means you’re the new Canopus branch, right? Well, my point is that the sprites couldn’t alchemically manipulate the nul-matter either. They had to physically build that chamber.”
“Probably true.”
Tara turned to the wide-eyed tech, who had been silently observing the strangest thing he had ever seen. “If you were to take all the nul-matter that we recovered from that chamber and use it to coat jars like this, spraying the interiors with a micro-fine layer of dust, how many jars could we make?”
The tech pulled out a datapad, doing some swift calculations. “978,846,” he concluded.
“I don’t know if that’s enough. It might be. I might have grossly overestimated the number of Cu’ensali. If not, we could go looking for more – maybe use the nullets we’ve collected. What do you think, Briscoe?”
“You’re proposing that every Cu’ensali tree be equipped with a jar like this?” He tapped the rim. “Hey guys? Is that viable?”
A tiny, muffled voice came through the glass. “Some of us would like that. I would. I like my tree. But some of us just want to go back where we came from.”
“Can Ailann live with that?” asked Tara.
“Puce won’t give up, though,” said the sprite. “He won’t stop until there’s no possibility of entry into this universe.”
“But my people – the Cu’enashti – desperately want to come here,” said Briscoe. “Did he ever think of that?”
There was a moment of awkward silence. “No. Why would he?”
“Right,” Briscoe said. “We need to get to work on this. Oh, what are your names?”
“We don’t have names.”
“There are too many of us for everyone to have a designator. How many shades of pink do you think there are?”
Briscoe exchanged an exasperated glance with Tara. The Cu’ensali were not going to be easy to work with. “For convenience’s sake, I’m going to call you Feisty and Floppy. You know which one is which, right?”
“No.”
“Let’s go out on the verandah,” said Tara. “Leave the jar here.”
*****
Lady Lorma brought a pitcher of Chalkolo juleps and a basket of unonion puddins. They sat beneath an umbrella, refreshed by a pleasant breeze which gave reprieve to the heavy afternoon heat of a Dolparessan summer. “If you want them to have easy entry and exit,” said the tech, “the jar is an awkward design.”
“I assume you have a name?” said Briscoe, proffering his hand.
The tech laughed. “Dashawn Martin.”
“Pleased to meet you, Dashawn. You must know my wife.”
“Another emanation?” said Lord Danak from the doorway. “Lady Lorma, I’d heard that you were involved in an altercation! Are you all right?”
“All right? I’d forgotten how much fun combat was,” she replied. “There’s more than one advantage to regaining my youth.”
“Elma told me that you used to be my bodyguard when I was a baby. I never knew,” said Tara.
“Of course not,” Lady Lorma replied. “A poor guardian I would’ve been to allow a child to live in fear. I know how much you hated your trips to Skarsia, but at least I could breathe safe there. The 5th Matriarch never had designs on your life.”
Lord Danak joined the party, pouring himself a julep. “This plan of yours,” he said, “you do realize that it’s going to cost millions?”
“Rearrange a few things in the annual budget,” said Tara. “How many Cu’enmerengi go on public assistance when they’re between jobs? The Cu’ensali have never asked for anything.”
“Strictly speaking, the Cu’ensali aren’t citizens.”
“We’ll have them register, promising them either a house or repatriation. The ones who choose to stay will have to disclose the location of their trees, and we can keep records. It will function as a census.”
“That’s a very good idea,” said Danak. “Some idea of their number is essential – although we have no way of knowing how many won’t come forward.”
“We didn’t with the Cu’enashti and Cu’enmerengi either,” said Tara. “Disclosure was always voluntary.”
“Tarlach says that he thinks at least 90% have disclosed by now. The Cu’enashti in long-standing relationships gradually came out when it started to become obvious that their Chosen wasn’t aging. The young ones disclose immediately. It’s amazing to those of us who remember the Great Silence. They’re so bold and confident. As for the Cu’enmerengi, most of them want to avail themselves of the benefits of citizenship and the protection of the law.”
“Martin, you see what sort of design you can come up with. It needs to be small, durable, and able to be attached to a tree.”
“Carefully attached,” said Briscoe. “Not with a nail or screw.”
“What if we run out of nul-matter?” asked Martin.
“Floppy – or was it Feisty? – said that they had gotten the material from trace amounts absorbed by their roots. Briscoe, do other Cu’endhari have nul-matter in their roots?”
“We certainly don’t,” said Briscoe.
“But if I understand correctly, you can’t sense it at all,” said Martin. “I’m sorry to butt in, but I have been studying its properties at the lab.”
“I would think that it would be an irritant,” said Briscoe. “Oh, Cüinn said something interesting. He says there can’t be because our roots tend to aggregate pos-matter. That’s the material from which the power crystals are formed. In the presence of pos-matter, nul-matter is transformed into nul-energy, which is then used by the tree. It’s sort of like matter and anti-matter, except that substantially more nul-matter than pos-matter is consumed.”
“That’s all very interesting,” said Lord Danak, “but the Archon really does need to make a statement. People are upset and starting to wonder about the silence.”
Briscoe shook his head. “There’s more to this,” said Briscoe. “I emanated for a reason. I don’t have the sense that Ailann is coming back quite yet.”
“You were quite a surprise,” Tara said. “I didn’t think to look at the trading cards. I was preoccupied, and I’d have never thought there would be another one so soon.”
« Looks like we got away with it, » said Suibhne. « I’ve got to be more careful in the future. »
“Then the Matriarch will have to face the public,” Lord Danak declared. “Prince Briscoe has yet to be added to the disclosure, which means he has no legal authority. Besides, I think the people need to see a familiar face.”
“Briscoe just doesn’t have Ailann’s presence,” said Tara. “Not to be insulting, but you seem so…ugh, I know that Constantine got upset when I said this about him…normal.”
Briscoe laughed. “Trust me, I’m not normal. I just don’t seem obviously dysfunctional like Darius or Suibhne or Davy. But looking normal can be an advantage sometimes.”
*****
Briscoe seemed to be doing an excellent job of handling a difficult situation, much better than I had been. At least there was hope in sight. If only we could talk to Puce, convince him that the nul-containers would work, that no trees would have to die…
Briscoe remained in our suite while Tara went with Danak to make the announcement. I could see that he was deeply troubled by everything that was happening. His feelings were in sympathy with mine. Of course they were; he was the branch that grew in response to my trauma. Even if branches like that didn’t seem to be close, there was always a bond between them.
It was something that I would have to think about later. For now, I was tired, so tired. I went to join Cillian and Ellery on the couch. It was then I noticed that Cillian wasn’t on the couch.
« He went up to his quarters, » said Callum. « He wanted to think things through. »
I nodded. « Ellery, I’ll be back if something starts to happen with Briscoe. I want to talk to Cillian. »
Did I? What I really wanted was to get drunk, but this was probably a better option. I knocked at his door.
« I was waiting for you, » he said. He ushered me in.
His room was neat, sparsely decorated with paintings of old military ships and spaceships hung on the interior wall. In the center was an enormous desk; there was a couch shoved next to the door. His bed was in an adjacent room, the sheets efficiently tucked into the sides. There was a footlocker at the base. All the curtains were closed, so the room’s light was shady.
« This isn’t what I expected, » I said.
« What did you expect? »
« Well…» I trailed off. The rumor was that he had a sex dungeon.
He grinned, reading my expression. « When I’m in the mood for something like that, I use Callum’s. »
I sat on the couch, not quite sure where to put my hands. « We all knew we were coming home to a war. But the wars we’ve fought in the past were so much different than this. We knew who the enemy was. We knew what we were trying to achieve. »
« Don’t I know it, » Cillian replied, sitting next to me.
There was a moment of silence.
Finally, Cillian said, « You really don’t know how to ask do you? »
« What? »
« That’s why you were a virgin until your wedding night – and Tara was the one who asked you. All right, fine. I figure it took you enough guts to come here. I just wanna make sure that it’s not because you feel guilty or grateful or pushed into a corner. »
« Actually, it didn’t take any guts at all to come here. It was easy. »
I rested my head against his arm, closing my eyes. I just wanted to stay like that for a while.
When I opened them, Cillian was looking at me. There was something in his expression that seemed different to me. Unguarded. I realized that he was waiting for my reaction. I realized that he could be hurt by it.
It was the last thing I ever expected. « Are you in love with me? » I asked.
« Aw, hell, » he snapped, pulling away from me, standing and facing the curtains. I could see that he had folded his arms; his shoulders were slumping. I rose and followed, wrapping my arms around him from behind, resting my head between his shoulder blades. He was still as a stone, but I could feel his heart pounding.
« Ailann, don’t fuck with me, » he said quietly. « I can’t stand not having the advantage. »
It was my turn to laugh. « Now who’s on a pedestal? » I asked. I spun him around. « You told me that I didn’t have to be responsible for everything. Now I’m telling you that you don’t always have to win. »
« Some battles you can’t afford to lose, » he replied. His voice was raspy, and he was trying to make his face into stone also, but failing.
I realized that I didn’t have to ask, and he didn’t have to say anything. He was offering. I could just take what I needed. This time, I was the one to kiss him.
*****
« You see? » Ellery said to Callum. « It’s going to be all right. »
« I wasn’t sure, » said Callum. « I’d never seen the Admiral like this, and Milord can be so obtuse. »
Ellery nodded, putting an arm around Callum. « That’s why I have to look out for him. »
*****
“You look deep in thought.”
Briscoe looked up quickly at Tara, who had just returned to our suite. “I’m just doing the same thing that everyone is doing – pretending not to watch Cillian and Ailann.”
“Ah, that’s not fair! I wish I was there to see that.”
“You can replay the memory the next time you’re inside of the pleroma. You can replay any of our memories that you like. So how did the announcement go?”
“Perfectly – considering that it was recorded and I did five takes. But I have no idea how anyone is reacting to it yet. Somehow, I don’t think this is the end of it. I don’t think that Puce will let it go.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Briscoe replied. “I was brought here to find Mauve, but that plan got derailed. Now I’m wondering if I should make another attempt.”
Before that idea could go any farther, Lady Claris barged into the Ipsissimal Suite. “What the hell have you done?” she yelled.
Lord Danak and Lady Lorma followed in her wake. “I’m afraid she insisted.”
“Hello, Claris,” said Tara rising. “This is unexpected. I was expecting the Cantor, actually. I’d summoned her to discuss the problems with the MPP.” More than that, Tara had expected the Cantor to be furious about the atmosphere of general amnesty being extended to the Cu’ensali. But she couldn’t imagine why Claris would care one way or the other – Claris should have been relieved to put an end to these troubles.
“The Cu’enmerengi are up in arms,” she continued. “There are about fifty of them in front of the Capitol Building, screaming that repatriation is nothing but tree-killing. But there are an additional two dozen in a sit-in at Turquoise Head. They’re demanding equal access to immolation.”
“What?” said Tara, Danak and Briscoe, near-simultaneously.
“They’re saying that they’re sick of this universe. That there’s no way to avoid suffering here. That they’d rather go back to the nul-universe and be nothing.”
“I don’t even know how to begin to address that,” said Tara.
“I don’t think a human could understand it,” said Claris. “Humans are animals, and animals are survival-oriented. Look, the first thing I remember is the taproot, and the sense that it was something interesting. Then wham – I was a tree. And it was interesting, much more interesting than the nul-universe. And then a human came by and that seemed even more interesting. So when I saw the Cantor, I thought that the grand jeté could be amusing. And I still think it’s amusing. But some of us are bored, and some of us are tired. It’s not most of us. Some of us really love our trees, and can’t begin to imagine harming them. It’s a pretty individual reaction.”
« I think what we need is an intervention, » said Tarlach. « Some form of counseling. If a group of humans became suddenly suicidal, society would address the problem immediately. »
« There’s an old saying, » said Owen: « the more you grow your roots around a stone, the harder it gets to move it. »
« But Claris is right, » said Dermot. « It’s not natural for an animal to wish for its own death. Suicidal ideation is a sign that something is terribly wrong. But who knows what’s normal for Cu’endhari? Maybe the desire to live is the abnormality. »
“Tarlach wants to develop some sort of therapy,” said Briscoe.
“Wait,” said Claris, “Is that another new one? And you guys say that dryads are flighty?”
“I’m starting to feel unwelcome,” said Briscoe.
“It’s just that humans, well, humans don’t do that sort of thing,” said Lady Lorma. “It’s a little hard for us to get used to.”
“We’ve been doing it for over half a century,” Briscoe rebuffed. “In fact, I’m the 50th emanation. It’s not like this is a new thing.”
“Fifty?” said Lord Danak. “Wait. That can’t be right, can it? We had 47 formally disclosed, and then Prince Darius. That makes you 49.”
Briscoe had slipped up. Tara, at our request, had told no one about Solomon. We thought it might be useful to have an emanation out of the public eye. It was Ross’ idea: as long as Solomon never emanated on Dolparessa, it was legal to hide him.
There was a moment of awkward silence. “Fess up,” said Lardy Lorma. “I can tell when you’re hiding something, missy.”
“The law says we have to register 14 days after assuming residency on Dolparessa,” said Briscoe. “Darius still has some time.”
“That doesn’t explain the discrepancy,” said Danak. “You’re keeping an ace up your sleeve.”
“Ace is already included in the disclosure,” said Briscoe. “Let’s get back to Claris’ issue…”
Then the Cantor arrived, and Elma with her. “You intend to let them go unpunished,” she said. “You could have at least told me first.”
“I thought I made it clear that the attacks were caused by a radical group led by a Cu’ensali known as Puce,” said Tara. “The average Cu’ensali is not to be blamed.”
“Let’s avoid blame if possible,” said Briscoe. “Or things could get bad for the MPP. Ross says that according to the law as set during the Great Reveal, any Cu’endhari who discloses has the full rights of a Dolparessan citizen. But since the Cu’ensali haven’t disclosed, the prior attacks on their trees by the MPP can be treated as violations of the Forest Preservation Act and not murder. Of course, that will change for any Cu’ensali who registers.”
“Excellent thinking,” said Danak. “I’d like to avoid an open confrontation with Earl Mac’kellr.”
“Is there to be no justice?” asked the Cantor.
“Puce is still at large,” said Tara. “And I doubt he or his followers are going to cooperate with us. At least not unless we can assure them that they won’t be accidentally returned to this universe.”
“Cüinn is working on it,” Briscoe informs them.
“You ate all the puddins before I got here,” said Elma, coming up within ten centimeters of Briscoe and looking directly at his face. “Huh. Next one is the halfway point. I can see you’ve still got work to do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” said Briscoe.
“I mean that I thought Ashtara would’ve perfected the process by now. This one looks hastily slapped together.”
Claris snorted. “How enormously rude,” Lady Lorma chastised.
“You’re just upset because we didn’t save you any puddins,” said Tara.
“Can we focus on the problem at hand?” asked Lord Danak.
“Define the problem,” said Elma.
“Finding and dealing with Puce,” said Briscoe.
“Close, but no carambola,” said Elma. “I’d define the problem as the fleet of Arthvean warships that will appear just outside Skarsian space in about six hours.”
“What happened to the Brrrrrrrrrrrrvvbh?” asked Briscoe. “I thought they were intervening on our behalf?”
Just then the door chimed. It was Captain Zosim. “Emergency transmission from Ambassador Juliet,” he said. “It seems that all non-humans on Arthvea are being confined to quarters ‘for their own protection.’”
“Well,” said Elma, “this is a fine kettle of Floatfish.”