The Mammalian Humanoid's Tale Almost Concluded

13 

The Mammalian Humanoid’s Tale Almost Concluded 

 

    BrTl had kindly told ZrMl he could shake the intergalactic dust before Forty-Four brought Dohra back, but he elected to stay and hear the pink being’s story—what else was there to do on the third moon of Pkqwrd, after all? Though he declined both BrTl’s ironic offer to fill him in on what he’d missed and Trff’s serious one. So when the rest of their company rejoined them in the Level Blue ISLA bar after lunch, he made one of the group. So did quite a few other beings, including the masked Bgly-Aaimer from the Find The Admiral stall, so word had obviously gone round there was a Storyteller in the bar about to tell a story. Fortunately Dohra didn’t pick up all the emanations of expectancy. Forty-Four competently got a slug of full-strength Whtyllian zhr’ee into her, and she launched into her story. 

    Gr’mmeaya was a very pretty blue and green world, as the girls saw from the lifter that had collected them from the spaceport—together with a uniformed young officer, several guardsmen wearing blue turbans, and a little band. Qwolla evidently appreciated the charming lakes and rivers they were flying over, but no-one else did, much. Most of the girls were absorbed in excited speculation, and Dohra stared out of the port, frowning, wondering what in Federation she was doing here. After a while she roused herself enough to point out a lake to Josh’ryn: one of the places where fish lived.

    “They must get very wet. Do you think it’s terribly hot in here, Dohra?”

    No: the Meagraw’s luxurious lifter was entirely comfortable. Though Josh’ryn was wearing a lot of clothes. Dohra felt her hand. Help, it was very hot! Anxiously she felt her forehead. Jojo came over to them, and took Josh’ryn’s hands in two of his, feeling her head with the third. “Very hot. Feel sick at all, polly-lolly?”

    “I do feel a bit odd,” said the little clear voice sadly.

    “Put your tongue out, polly-lolly.” He inspected it anxiously. “What do you think, Dohra?”

    “Um, well, it looks okay, but that doesn’t always mean anything. My brother J’nno had an awful attack of pottoo spots once but his tongue never looked funny.”

    Jojo produced a text-blob. “Pottoo spots!” Obediently the blob flashed up an explanation. “Native to C’T’rea! Well, unless you’re carrying it, Dohra, polly-lolly, it won’t be that!”

    “You can’t carry it, you can only catch it from a pottoo.”

    “Maybe it’s mozzlees,” said Josh’ryn sadly. “Six of my little half-brothers had it, but Father said I was only making excuses when I said I might be infectious.”

    “Mozzlees!” Jojo ordered his text-blob. “–Great steaming Vvlvanian magma pits! Highly infectious to all humanoids!” he cried.

    “On C’T’rea everyone’s chemo-blobbed against it when they're born,” said Dohra. “Actually I thought it was the same everywhere. I never knew it was still found in the two galaxies.”

    Primmo, Jojo reminded her grimly. “Well, you might have been chemo-blobbed against it, polly-lolly, and of course we had the lorpies done against jeeppers and fhungly the instant they were fully formed—but how many of these come from, dare I say it, nice homes?”

    Dohra swallowed. “Um, I’m sure wondreL does.”

    “Dohra, polly-lolly,” he said acidly, “Nblyterians can’t get mozzlees!”

    “Oh, nor they can,” said Dohra, looking over his shoulder. “That’s a relief.”

    “Two,” he said pointedly.

    “What? Oh.”

    “Polly-lollies!” he said loudly. The chattering continued. “Polly-lollies!” he shouted. “Pay attention!” Grudgingly the girls looked round. “How many of you have been chemo-blobbed against mozzlees?”

    There was a blank silence.

    “Don’t all speak at once,” said Jojo acidly. “Well?”

    At first everyone claimed they didn’t know or couldn’t remember, but eventually he had it worked out that Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All had actually had it, so she was all right, according to his text-blob you couldn’t get the disease twice; that See had been immunised at First School during an epidemic on her home planet—though what she mainly remembered about this was the mouthful of chewing-taffy they’d all been given after the chemo-blobbing; that Janna had been done and Panna hadn’t; that if it was the same as flee-mozzlees, on which point his text-blob had no information, Qwolla had been immunised and if it wasn’t she hadn’t; and that S’draa claimed to have been chemo-blobbed at great expense against anything infectious that humanoids could possibly get or pass on. Hally Kally’s status in the mozzlees stakes of course remained as much of a mystery as every other detail of her past life.

    “Shouldn’t the IG C&E gate have picked it up when we came on-world?” quavered Dohra.

    “Do you know how much a being like a Meagraw pays to be in the Federation and still maintain a closed world?” returned Jojo evilly.

    “Half his GNP,” said Josh’ryn’s little clear voice unexpectedly.

    They jumped, and Jojo admitted: “Actually, she’s right.”

    “What’s a GNP?” asked Dohra feebly.

    Josh’ryn stared at her, what time Jojo said briskly: “Gross National Product, though a being can’t blame you for not knowing, Dohra: I never met a polly-lolly before that did.”

    “Um, no. Um, ‘Gross’… ‘National’… Half of everything?” she gasped.

    “Yes,” said Josh’ryn, leaning back in her seat and sighing.

    “Close your eyes. Try to have a rest,” said Dohra anxiously. “Um, well, that’s a lot, Jojo, but I don’t see what it’s got to do with the IG C&E ga… Oh.”

    “Exactly. He could have it ignore anything, never mind a few doses of fhungly!”

    “Y—Um, mozzlees,” corrected Dohra limply. “Of course.” Visions of planetary epidemics danced before her bemused eyes…

    “Well, no, he’ll use some of the other half of his GNP to have his people chemo-blobbed, if it comes to that,” admitted Jojo. “The Full Surgeons’ll send a Med. Emergency Fleet, and just let’s hope we’re off-world by then! I was caught up in a Med. Emergency once, and believe you me, those beings won’t take no excuse! I was that full of chemo-blobs I didn’t know if I was in hyperspace or next Galaxy Day! And of course all flights were grounded.”

    “How long for?”

    Jojo patted one of Josh’ryn’s hands and got up. “Let’s hope it won’t matter to any of you, polly-lolly, because he’ll’ve taken you all. We’ll put her to bed soon as we get to the palace.”

    “What about the Meagraw, though?” asked Dohra.

    “He won’t want to see us today, polly-lolly, it’s not etiquette! You’ll see.” And he went off to talk to young Lieutenant Seullim’n.

    Josh’ryn’s eyes were closed and she seemed to be breathing normally. Dohra stared out of the port. What in Federation was she doing here? Why had she been mad enough to give up her nice safe job on lovely Silver-Ash Flyer and come out to this primmo dump beyond the last black hole to be a Pleasure Girl? 

 

    The lifter landed in one of the courtyards of the Meagraw’s palace. It wasn’t the single huge castle-like building Dohra had expected, but a whole complex of buildings: all very beautiful, lacy-looking structures, with columns and porticoes and, um, fretwork? and carvings of flowers and leaves. In very pale, pretty shades of pink, apricot and cream. The towers and spires she’d imagined were more or less present, but much airier-looking. In fact the whole palace complex, with its arches and myriads of little pools and tiled courtyards and little fretted balconies, looked as if it could easily rise up and drift away on the wind. All Porvenian marble, S’draa pointed out, her well-contoured jaw dropping.

    After that it was something of an anticlimax to have to walk through what seemed like IG glps of corridors and courtyards—though they were all very pretty—for what seemed like an IG hour. They didn’t see any beings, and the walk was enlivened, if that was the word, only by Jojo’s continuous messages of Smile, smile! They’ll be watching us from behind these screens and stuff, by wondreL’s discovery that the palace’s windows weren't filled in by strengtol or polretrolux or anything, and by Josh’ryn’s becoming very wobbly and having to be held up by Dohra and wondreL.

    At last they fetched up before a huge maroon portico. Two tall guards stood outside it, blasters shouldered, gold dangly things flashing on the uniformed chests, and gold sprays of something twinkling on the immense pink turbans. Their skin was black like S’draa’s, but they definitely weren’t humanoids or Nblyterians or—Put it like this, they had four arms as well as two legs, and above the neat face-masks that covered their noses they had four round, glaring eyes. Like the guardsmen escorting the girls they wore black uniform jackets and shiny black, baggy pants.

    Lieutenant Seullim’n was saluting Jojo—he’d done it several times, he didn’t seem to care that the lorpoid wasn’t in uniform—and telling him that he had to leave them now, that was the female quarters through that door.

    “Thank you, Lieutenant, that was a very nice escort. We enjoyed the band.”

    The Lieutenant tried not to look at Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All, who’d put her hands over her ears when his little band had played them aboard the lifter. “Thank you, sir.”

    “Er—hang on, Lieutenant Seullim’n: do these speak?”

    “No, sir, but they know to let you in,” replied the Lieutenant in a lowered voice.

    Jojo looked up at the huge guards and squared his shoulders. “In we go, then, polly-lollies!”

    Nothing happened. The girls looked round uncertainly as the escort party saluted smartly and retreated. A door was heard to bang shut in the distance. Then there was dead silence in the blue-tiled courtyard outside the huge maroon portico.

    “Pleasure—Girls. For—the—Meagraw!” said Jojo loudly to the nearest guard.

    Nothing.

    “You’re a male, Jojo,” Dohra pointed out dubiously.

    “Polly-lolly, I’m a lorpoid, what good’ll my male cream do the Meagraw’s Pleasure Girls?”

    “None, but do they know that? Um, have you got any dokko?”

    “IG ID!” he replied, pointing indignantly at where lorpoids kept it.

    “Um, ye-ah… Any Gr’mmeayan dokko, Jojo? Like, um, dunno. A blob?”

    “Oh, really!” Crossly Jojo began feeling in all the pockets of the lorpoid suit…

    S’draa, the twins and Qwolla gave up and went to sit on the edge of a pretty little pond, decorated with water-flowers and with a tiny fountain splashing in its middle. Qwolla had her hands in the water, smiling.

    Jojo had found a blob. He waved it crossly at the nearest guard. “Gr’mmeayan dokko!”

    Suddenly there was a deep booming noise, followed by a harsh grating sound, and the giant maroon door swung open, though neither of the guards had moved.

    “Well, that worked!” said Jojo, very ruffled. “Now, come on, polly-lollies, in we go! And smile! We may not see any beings, but they’ll be sure to be watching us!”

    And in they went.

    “Blast me out beyond the last back hole, more plasmo-blasted gardens?” cried wondreL. “How much further have we got to go?” 

 

    What they’d assumed was the outer wall of a building was now revealed as a very high garden wall. Well, it had its own roof, but basically a wall was what it was.

    “I can walk,” said Josh’ryn very faintly indeed.

    “No, ya can’t,” replied wondreL grimly. “Jojo, do something, for Federation’s sake!”

    The lorpoid looked round helplessly. To either side, graceful trellised walkways, hung with flowering or fruiting vines. Before them, delightful ponds and pools, glorious flowerbeds interspersed with fantastically-shaped little lawns in dark green, lime green, or turquoise, miniature sculptured trees, wonderful apricot tiles laid in intricate patterns… No beings. Unless one counted a little black and cream fluffy creature with a blue bow round its neck, perched on the side of that pool over there.

    “A New Rthfrdian lemur,” said S’draa drily to the lorpoid’s broadcast. “It won’t be of much use! And where’s our luggage, just by the by?”

    “It’ll be taken direct to our rooms,” said Jojo with a cross whistle.

    “Well,” decided Qwolla, “if we’re supposed to have arrived, then I’m gonna use that pool!” They watched numbly as she made for it determinedly, removed the silver jump-suit, and got in. “It’s lovely!” she called, waving an arm from amongst the water-flowers clustering in the big oblong jade-green pool. Drops of water glittered in the yellow sunlight of Gr’mmeaya.

    “Look at her!” whispered Josh’ryn, wobbling wildly.

    “Yeah. Don't got excited, it’s natural to her,” said Dohra, hanging on fiercely. “Look, Jojo, try that building in front of us, eh?”

    Jojo made for the pretty one-storeyed lacy cream structure in front of them. “There’s a door!” he called from within its lacy verandah.

    “Open it, lorpoid,” groaned wondreL.

    Janna ran gaily up onto the verandah, opening the door while Jojo was still hesitating. “A sitting-room!” she shouted. “Galaxious! Real flop-couches!”

    “That’s something,” said Dohra grimly. She and wondreL got Josh’ryn onto the verandah, through the door, and into the sitting-room, where they laid her on a large cream flop-couch.

    “Thank you,” she said very faintly, closing her eyes.

    “We gotta get help for her,” muttered wondreL.

   “Yeah. –HEY!” shouted Dohra as one of the doors in the back wall opened a crack and then quietly closed. She made a leap for it and flung it open. The white-draped being that was behind it fell to its knees, and touched its forehead to the wtmyrian-carpeted floor.

    “Get up, whoever you are, we’ve got a sick girl here,” said Dohra firmly.

    Slowly the being got up, revealing itself as a little old woman.

    “What’s your name?” demanded Dohra.

    “S-Galli, Lady,” she said, bowing.

    That figured, thought Dohra grimly. Probably every being they’d see from now on would be an s-being. “Right, well, S-Galli, I’m Dohra, call me Dohra, you don’t need to call me Lady, and this lady here, this is Princess Josh’ryn, she’s a real lady, and we think she’s coming down with mozzlees—HEY!”

    The little old woman had scuttled out through a far door.

    “I’ll go to Mullgon’ya!” shouted Dohra furiously. “What’s wrong with this dump?”

    “Primmo,” said Jojo nervously.

    “Ya don’t say!” retorted wondreL angrily. She walked into the room, which was a bedroom, largely white with touches of blue and a glorious blue and white wtmyrian carpet. “Where’s the hygiene cabinet? I’ll ask it for a blob for Josh’ryn.” She investigated. The door the old woman had vanished behind led into another sitting-room. Most of the others revealed cupboards, but one opened on a hygiene cabinet. She went in and the door closed.

     After a bit Janna came in. “There’s nothing to eat out there! No menu-blobs or nothing!”

    “Fancy that,” said Dohra sourly, listening to wondreL shouting at the hygiene cabinet.

    “What’s wrong?” asked Janna uneasily.

    “My guess’d be that hygiene cabinet’s ignoring her every word.”

    It was: suddenly its door burst open and an orange-cheeked wondreL stamped out. “It tried to tell me I didn’t need a chemo-blob! Is this a primmo or is this a primmo!”

    Jojo had retreated to the sitting-room where he was sitting on a small chair, emanating helplessness. 

 

    Dohra took a deep breath. “At least we can get Josh’ryn to bed.”

    She, wondreL and Janna lifted Josh’ryn up. Hally Kally got the point and hurried to help them, and the four of them got her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. There was no sign of their luggage so Dohra and wondreL undressed her down to the apple-green dressing-gown and pulled the covers over her.

    “I’ll give that dim S-Galli another ten IG minutes and then I’ll go out and look for a being with some sense!” said Dohra fiercely.

    “Ya can try,” retorted wondreL sourly. “I’m beginning to think there aren’t any!”

    “Yes, there are,” said an amused voice from the inner door, and a tall, handsome, dark-haired, golden-skinned woman in a long, plain dark blue tunic over matching long pants came into the bedroom. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to meet you: we had an emergency in the kitchens, and one of the girls has just had a baby. I’m afraid S-Galli was the best we could do for the moment. I’m First Concubine-Dowager M’ffarbell: please, just call me M’ffarbell. Now, did that old silly have it wrong, or did you really say mozzlees?”

    “Yes,” admitted Dohra. “How do you do, M’ffarbell? I’m Dohra. This is Princess Josh’ryn from bMeemeetee. We think it is mozzlees, her little brothers had it when she left.”

    M’ffarbell produced a blob from of a fold of her garment and held it to the girl’s cheek. “Oh, dear: yes, mozzlees,” she confirmed tranquilly.

    “Are you a Full Surgeon, then, ma’am?” croaked Dohra.

    “I am qualified, yes,” she said with a lovely smile.

    And soon Josh’ryn was much more comfortable, and M’ffarbell shepherded them out into the sitting-room and closed the door.

    Jojo and the twins got up quickly at the sight of M’ffarbell, and Hally Kally knelt down and touched the floor with her forehead just as old S-Galli had done, but S’draa, who was lounging on a flop-couch looking fed-up, just gave her an annoyed look.

    “This is First Concubine-Dowager M’ffarbell,” croaked Dohra, feeling wondreL hanging back. “She’s a Full Surgeon. This is Jojo, ma’am, and Janna and Panna, and that’s S’draa.”

    “How are you, Jojo?” she said, holding out a hand to him. “Welcome to the palace. I hope you had a pleasant trip? Do forgive me for not making sure a sensible being brought you to your quarters.”—The lorpoid was clearly overcome: he shook his head in the lorpoid gesture of embarrassment and bowed very low over her hand.—“Lovely to meet you, my dears,” she said, smiling at the girls, even the pouting S’draa. “How pretty you all are! And who is this?” She bent over Hally Kally, and gently raised the pale blue girl’s chin. “Well!”

    “She’s a friymanoid, ma’am,” gulped wondreL.

    “So I see! Welcome to the palace, Hally Kally. You don’t need to kneel to me, my dear: please get up.”

    “Garble, garble, garble, garble, garble,” said Hally Kally, getting up.

    Did she get that? sent wondreL incredulously.

    Must’ve. “She hasn’t got a translator, ma’am,” said Dohra on a hopeful note.

    “Oh, good gracious! We must do something about that! Now, here are your bags.” And suddenly a great train of s-beings and servo-mechs hurried in with trays of food and drink and all of their baggage, and the other girls came inside, to be greeted graciously by M’ffarbell, even the unashamedly naked and wet Qwolla. And the First Concubine-Dowager then withdrew, leaving them to eat, drink and relax. Everything they saw was theirs to use, in this building and the garden, apparently. 

    “Delightful!” approved the Lirriot Queen as Dohra paused, smiling, and emanations of oohs and aahs, mixed with emanations of: Is that all? and That wasn’t much of a story! filled the blue ISLA bar. “A charming palace!”

    All females? sent the consort with a mental shudder.

    BrTl! BRTL! sent his ship-companion.

    Huh?

    This Lirriot male is trying to share his-its horror at the beings in Dohra’s section of the palace all being females!

    Groggily he responded: Isn’t that anything-ist?

    Wake UP! it sent loudly.

    “Ouch!” he gasped, clutching his head. “Uh—yes: a very typical humanoid world, Dohra,” he offered, as the visual organs of the company were now all fixed on him. Females, eh? Bad show, he sent quickly to the Lirriot consort before Trff could scorch his head bone again.

    It did no such thing!

    Close enough, replied BrTl heavily. Is anything gonna happen in this story?

    There was an IG microsecond’s pause and then Trff admitted: Probably not, in your-its terms. But the pink being will be very disappointed if you-it doesn’t pretend to enjoy—

    All right! I get it!

    The beings are all eating, it prompted him.

    Eh? Manifestly they weren’t, in fact most of them were digesting: what was it on about? Oh! In her story! Right, right. Did she say what—No. Goddit. “So, what were the recipes, Dohra?” he asked genially.

    “Yeah, tell us about the Meagraw’s food!” agreed blndreL. “And drink!” 

 

    Of course the food was absolutely delicious, and even S’draa and Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All couldn’t find anything to complain about, from the juicy pwoggy-klingles, galaxious Whtyllian grapes and deliciously sweet ffjjiis, to the spicy, savoury meat tartlets, and the fried Gr’mmeayan pastries, some sprinkled with loober seeds and sugar, some soaked in honey, some filled with sweetened dried fruits, something like mwopplell, and others filled with nymbo cheese flavoured with strange, exotic spices! There was even a plate of cubed fish salad, especially for Jojo!

    Towards evening First Concubine-Dowager M’ffarbell reappeared, now dressed in a flowing tunic of gauzy zpandria-cloth in a pattern of pink and gold flowers over long, tight pants of cloth-of-gold, and with a glittering ornament in her dark hair, from which floated a gauzy veil of a lighter zpandria-cloth. Just as wondreL and Dohra were wondering if that was the native dress she said graciously that it was. Yes, well, you wouldn’t have expected a Full Surgeon not to be able to read their every thought! Though as she wasn't a Gr’mmeayan, she added graciously, there was no obligation on her to wear it. Finishing with a charming smile: “But I’m dining with my son, the Meagraw, tonight: he likes to see me in it.”

    The girls’ jaws dropped: she was the Meagraw’s mother?

    “I’m just going to check on poor little Princess Josh'ryn,” she said serenely, pretending not to have noticed their reaction. “Dohra, wondreL, would you care to come with me?”

    Numbly the two girls tottered after her.

    Josh’ryn was awake: her headache was gone and her fever was very much reduced, but her pink skin was now blotched with red and she said she felt very thirsty.

    “Of course; that’s very typical of mozzlees. I’m going to give you S-B’llelli, little S-T’rraji and servo-mech A690 to be your personal attendants, my dear,” said M’ffarbell. As she spoke, two s-girls dressed in white and a Class A servo-mech came in quietly. “If you’re thirsty or need anything at all, just send a message to one of them.”

    “Thank you, ma’am,” said Josh’ryn faintly.

    “And of course they will taste your food,” added the First Concubine-Dowager smoothly.—Dohra and wondreL exchanged glances: right, reading every single thought or even half-thought that any of them had!—“And now,” she said, smiling, “I’ll just check everyone and make sure that no-one else gets mozzlees!”

    “Hey, ya know what?” offered See, once M’ffarbell had wafted away on clouds of zpandria-cloth and the miraculous scent she wore. “I reckon that lady’s a Whtyllian!”

    “What?” gulped Dohra. “We thought she was just reading us because she's a Full Surgeon.”

    “Nah: Whtyllian as well,” she said darkly.

    “Of course,” said Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All, looking down her beautiful long straight nose. “Hadn’t you realised, C’T’rean? I can’t imagine the Meagraw will look twice at you, in that case!” She had had a hygiene cabinet wash her long, glossy brown curls; she tossed them contemptuously and added carelessly: “Of course, my grandmother’s a Whtyllian.”

    “Mok shit,” said S’draa sourly.

    “No, it’s true: in her dokko,” admitted Jojo. “Though personally, I wouldn’t think it was something to boast about! But don’t mind me, I’m only a lorpoid!”

    “Not only,” said Qwolla with her lovely smile, going to sit by him and taking one of his plump lorpoid hands comfortingly in her two long, cool ones.

    “We used to get quite a few Whtyllians on Silver-Ash Flyer,” admitted Dohra in a hollow voice. “Middle-class ones, of course.”

    “Yeah?” said wondreL sourly. “They’d still of read you like a text-blob, though—right?”

    “Yeah,” agreed Dohra, silently thanking the Federation she hadn't got anything to hide.

    Not like some, sent the Nblyterian, glancing pointedly at S’draa and See.

    Well, yes. And the twins not really being twins. But not only them. A Whtyllian Full Surgeon? It must be as clear to her what wondreL herself had had done as if the Nblyterian girl had had it emblazoned on her forehead in lumo-blobs! Dohra didn’t dare to glance at Jojo: she could feel his emanations of gloom right across the room.

    “Fish would be nice for dinner,” suggested Qwolla, squeezing his hand. “What about poached flashinnis and hickle with a nice creamy sauce of hickle coral?”

    “Of course!” he said, brightening.

    “I thought coral was like, um, rocky?” ventured Dohra, as the others were all emanating blankness. Or Ugh, yuck, in Panna’s case.

    “No, it’s a part of the hickle, Dohra!” said Qwolla with a laugh. “Quite a delicacy, because each hickle only has one small coral. But I’m sure a place like this will have them!”

    “I see,” said Dohra to the mind-picture. “They’re shellfish, a bit like pummos!” 

 

    “Sounds good!” said Jojo, rubbing his two free hands together.

    “Some of us don’t want fish!” said Panna loudly.

    “I gotta admit I don’t,” agreed wondreL glumly.

    “There you are!” she said loudly. “You don’t want fish, either, Janna, do ya?”

    “Not much, no.”

    “I quite like it,” said See mildly.

    “Shut up, ya told us you ate kroo worms!” snarled Janna.

    “Ugh!” gasped Dohra, very startled: Gramps used them for bait for the jeffer crabs.

    “Only because there wasn’t nothing else,” growled See. “And it wasn’t me that fought a Whtyllian dog for a piece of rotten hggl meat!”

    “It wasn’t rotten!” shouted Janna furiously. “And them rich Whtyllians, they throw out good food to their dogs and starve their Pleasure Beings! And I needed it more than it did!”

    “It was only a small dog, anyway,” said Panna uneasily.

    “You’d know, dog-eater!” shouted her pretend-twin.

    “So WHAT? Everyone on Turraburra eats them, and I never knew he was gonna take me there. And that’s MY dressing-gown you’ve got on, and GIVE IT BACK!” she screamed.

    At about this point it dawned on Dohra that the girls were all very nervous about having to make an appearance before the Meagraw tomorrow. So, uh, why wasn’t she? It was true, though: she wasn’t at all…

    After quite some time she came to and realised that wondreL and Jojo between them had settled the question of dinner by sending for an s-being and getting the report that the ladies could have anything they wished to order, meat and fish dishes both being available, and that a sim-receiver had been brought in and the girls were now clustered round it. Not Princess Whatserface again! Dohra wandered outside. Ooh, little lights had come on all over the garden! Some twinkling in the little trees, some floating in the ponds and pools, some outlining the meandering tiled paths… It was just so reminiscent of the big J’rd’s outlet in Hinnover City on Belraynia that she found she had a lump in her throat.

    Breakfast next morning featured a shouting-match between Janna and Panna—not dressing-gowns this time, something else equally unimportant—followed by Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All informing S’draa viciously that she was old enough to be the Meagraw’s grandmother, and S’draa’s retort that this’d be a Whtyllian grandmother, would it? After some time Jojo got them all calmed down enough to rehearse their presentation to the Meagraw. Exhausting, was probably the only word. Well, exhausting and loud.

    But eventually they were all dressed in their best, even S’draa admitting that the palace’s recyclers had freshened the other girls’ outfits up beautifully. She herself wasn’t wearing the things she’d travelled in, but an even more glamorous get-up, consisting of a wtmyrian colony in a pattern of black and yellow spots clinging to one shoulder and then tightly draped between the nipples and one hip on one side and mid-thigh on the other side, over a transparent black gauze skirt scattered with rainbow-flashing spangles.

    See found just the right flowers in the palace gardens for Dohra’s curls—small white orchids streaked and spotted with blue—and for Hally-Kally’s long straight indigo hair: delicate streamers of tiny frilly white blooms, which she fixed cunningly in amongst the dark tresses. So if only a being would bother to fetch them, they were more than ready to be inspected by the Meagraw!

    “At last!” said Jojo crossly as an ornately-clad rotund being about half his own height trotted in, doing its best to bow.

    “Revered sir, the Major-Domo will see you and the candidate ladies now, if you care to step this way!” the being gasped, endeavouring to bow again. –No: s-being: on one of its slender tentacle-like appendages it was wearing, gee, a bracelet.

    What is it? sent wondreL, staring.

    Dunno, replied Dohra sourly. It’s an s-something, though.

    Yeah, too s-right.

    “The Major-Domo?” echoed Jojo on a weak note. “Uh, we understood that the Meagraw would see us this morning.”

    “Oh, no, revered sir! His Serene Highness the Meagraw is closeted with his financial advisors this morning!” the s-being gasped.

   Ignoring the loud emanations of disappointment, he said: “This way, is it?”—waving at the outer door.

    “No, no! Please follow me, revered sir.”

    Giving a resigned whistle, Jojo ordered: “Come along, polly-lollies!” And off they went. Through an adjoining sitting-room, through a bedroom, through another sitting-room, through another sitting-room, another— Finally they were in a corridor, though by now none of the girls could have said how they got there. This led into a small courtyard and another building. More sitting-rooms, more sitting-rooms—not a being in sight all the way, though Panna claimed she’d caught sight of the New Rthfrdian lemur again. Or one very like it. More corridors, more sitting-rooms… No way, reflected Dohra sourly, was she ever going to escape from the dump! Uh—why in Federation was she thinking about escaping? She wanted to be here, didn’t she? Well, she’d chosen to be here, so—

    At long last they fetched up at a giant maroon door a bit like the one that had let them into the walled garden yesterday. Even to the two huge guards beside it, though these ones weren't black and they didn’t have four arms: they were dark green and had two short arms and two short legs on long, solid bodies, and long, dark green, scaled tails complete with overlays of shining gold-chased xrillion armour-plating that matched the breastplates over their black uniform jackets. Objectively the giant pink turbans looked pretty silly on top of those pointed lizard-like faces, but then, doubtless to the guards—or to any objective eye—they  themselves looked pretty silly in their glamorous Pleasure Girl gear.

    The maroon door opened onto a wide flight of shallow pale pink marble steps leading down into an immense marble hall, the floor miraculously patterned in lozenges, flowers, leaves and curlicues, all, they saw as they went slowly down the steps, done in little coloured stones. The walls were a glorious fretwork of lacy marble arches, pale pink over white or cream and palest apricot, and beyond that just a suggestion of maroon…

    Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All ranged alongside Dohra, Hally Kally and wondreL. “Your outfits look real good against all this pink and cream, I don’t think! Not to mention the mutant’s skin,” she noted pleasedly.

    “At least she isn’t showing her pooney!” replied wondreL fiercely. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that that’s real rude, Blue-Pooney?” She looked hard at the blue pubic heart.

    “Ssh!” hissed Dohra. “Remember what Jojo told us: they’re probably watching us!”

    Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All sniffed, and tossed her head, but refrained from replying to wondreL’s taunt and took up a striking pose, one hand casually on her hip. She did look wonderful, thought Dohra on a wistful note.

    Jojo bustled up to them. “Pale gold curls,” he said on a firm note, “are a great favourite, too, with many humanoid males.” 

 

    Dohra looked glum.

    “And do I have to remind you again, polly-lollies? Smile!” he cried.

    Thy did their best to smile, and looked round in vain for this Major-Domo, whatever that was when it was at home… Ooh! A very grand gold-turbaned personage in a sweeping black and gold robe open over a short, tight black jacket and baggy Gr’mmeayan pants in gold scintillion came up to Jojo. Those of the girls who knew what a curtsey was performed one, wondreL gave a Nblyterian bow, and the others just smiled and smiled. Not the Meagraw, never mind the real scintillion, sent Jojo heavily. Aloud he said: “This is Major-Domo Jay-P’ll, polly-lollies. May I introduce you, Major-Domo Jay-P’ll?”

    This was the girls’ cue, so one by one, strictly in the order which Jojo had ordained, they walked, or in most cases swayed, undulated or tittuped, towards the personage, stopped within four or five IG fluh of him, did “a graceful twirl”—Jojo might have been observed to wince slightly as wondreL did hers—and then stepped forward—no closer than three IG fluh, polly-lolly!—and, smiling and smiling, and looking MODESTLY at the floor, NOT into the being’s face, waited while Jojo murmured their names and varieties. AND DO NOT HOLD OUT THE APPENDAGE UNLESS HE HOLDS OUT ONE OF HIS! Even Hally Kally didn't make that mistake: the screaming and whistling during the rehearsal had got the point over.

    Major-Domo Jay-P’ll professed himself delighted to meet them all. Whether there was a grain of truth in the statement no-one knew: he was a tall for a humanoid, and middle-aged, with the most inexpressive face Dohra, for one, had ever seen, and emanated so little that apart from the faint rustle of his beautiful clothes and the delicious scent wafting from his person you would have sworn he wasn’t even there. He did appear slightly more interested in Qwolla than in the others: that was, he motioned her forward and, gently tilting her head to one side, looked with interest at the neck gills—but that was it. They could have been lubo-bots, really.

    “Chilling!” summed up Janna with a shudder, as they were led back to their pretty quarters.

    “So much for your idea of doing your so-called twins’ gymno act,” growled See sourly.

    “Lots of men like it!” said Panna crossly, though without all that much conviction.

    “He had a mind-shield up,” explained the lorpoid sadly.

    “And a half,” admitted S’draa sourly. “Couldn’t even tell how much he was worth.”

    “Well, a lot, those pants were real scintillion, polly-lolly,” he said dully, “only I agree, that’s usually very near the surface, with most beings.”

    After that nobody said anything, all the way back to their quarters.

    Not surprisingly, nobody felt much like food, so most of them agreed to Qwolla’s suggestion of a nice swim before lunch, and went out to try the big oblong jade-green pool. Dohra, however, went quietly to check on Josh’ryn, and Hally Kally, quickly grabbing her hand, came with her. Well, no-one except wondreL, whose attitude was more or less one of good-natured toleration mixed with, Dohra had to admit it, mild scorn, bothered to treat the poor girl like a sentient being, so no wonder she behaved as if Dohra was her only friend in the Known Universe!

    “She’s asleep,” said Dohra in a low voice, as they stood looking at Josh'ryn’s small pink faced form in the huge white marble Gr’mmeayan bed.

    Hally Kally squeezed her hand hard. “Garble, garble,” she said, pointing at Josh’ryn and then at her own pretty face.

    “Yes, mozzlees. Almost as bad as pottoo spots,” admitted Dohra glumly, pointing at her own cheek and nodding. “How’s she been, S-B’llelli?”

    “Much better, madam,” replied the s-girl. “The chemo-blob fixed the fever, and she had a drink of warm squatting-chicken soup mid-morning.”

    “Good,” said Dohra, smiling at her and not needing to ask what in the Known Universe a squatting-chicken was, because the girl was broadcasting a clear picture of it. Grey, rather fluffy, and yep, that was squatting, all right! They’d probably have called it a po-goose on C’T’rea, only C’T’rean po-geese weren’t that fat or fluffy.

    “They are fatty, but the kitchen makes beautiful squatting-chicken soup, madam,” said S-B’llelli—politely but not servilely, so possibly being an s-being in the female quarters of the Meagraw’s palace wasn’t as bad as being an s-being almost anywhere else in the Known Universe you cared to name?

    “Garble, garble, cl’ck, cl’ck, cl’ck!” said Hally Kally suddenly, beaming at the s-girl.

    “She got that, I think,” said Dohra on a glum note. “I suppose the First Concubine-Dowager’s got other things on her mind than a hareem candidate that can’t understand a blind word anyone says to her or make us understand her.”

    “Um, yes, madam,” said S-B’llelli uncertainly. “Her Ladyship M’ffarbell is very busy. Especially as Lady M’llpommeennee has just had a baby.”

    “Of course, yes,” said Dohra, glancing at Josh'ryn. The talk didn’t seem to be disturbing her, however. “How are they?”

    “Both doing fine, madam! Would you like to see them?”

    “Yes, awfully!” Dohra admitted, going very pink.

    “S-T’rraji will take you,” she said. And the younger s-girl, bowing and beaming at Dohra and Hally Kally, led them out through a far door into a pink sitting-room. “It’s this way, madam,” she said respectfully, then dropping the respectful bit and adding: “It’s a boy! He's just lovely! First Concubine-Dowager M’ffarbell was worried at first, because Lady M’llpommeennee wasn't very well during the pregnancy, and she knew the baby wasn’t very strong, but she gave the lady a lot of chemo-blobs and as soon as he was born she gave the baby a special one, and now he’s doing just fine! And Lady M’llpommeennee’s been sitting up and asking for fried squatting-chicken, she hasn’t fancied that since she got pregnant!” 

 

    “Well, that is a good sign!” said Dohra, beaming right back at her.

    “Garble, garble, garble,” said Hally Kally on an anxious note.

    “Yes, it’s all right, Hally Kally, we’re just going to see a little baby! Ba-by,” said Dohra carefully, stopping and pulling her hand out of the friymanoid’s. She made a cradling motion with her two arms. “Ba-by: see?”

    “Yes, baby, Lady!” agreed little S-T’rraji eagerly, also making a cradling gesture. “Bye Baby B’njee-bee!” she suddenly sang in a high, clear voice. “Ma-ma’s making tweety tea! Pa-pa’s gone to fell a tree, To carve a cot for B’njee-bee!”

    “That’s it!” beamed Dohra. “Baby!” She took Hally Kally’s hand again, and the s-girl led them into a white room, a yellow one—Pretty soon Dohra was hopelessly lost, once more.

    “This is it,” said S-T’rraji, stopping before a high, dark blue, ornately carved door.

    Dohra could feel Hally Kally emanating anxiety. She squeezed her hand hard and tried to emanate reassurance and pictures of a baby, though the latter wasn’t easy, as she had no idea what colour the Lady M’llpommeennee might be—or the Meagraw, come to think of it. His mother had a light golden-brown skin, not unlike See’s, but S-B’llelli was black-skinned, like S’draa, and S-T’rraji was an orangey-brown. The terrifying Major-Domo Jay-P’ll was a light tan, about the shade that most C’T’reans went after a summer holiday sun-bathing by the Gallamfic Ocean, and so was the young lieutenant, but his guardsmen had ranged from black through to very pale fawn. S-T’rraji had tapped and was opening the door, so they’d soon know.

    A big, airy white room with pink flowers inlaid on the marble walls and with pink and white misty curtains semi-veiling its windows was revealed. A good-looking, dark-haired, pale-skinned woman was sitting up in the big bed with its carved pink marble headboard, eating from a tray, while three other women, all in gauzy versions of the native dress, sat by the bed. Next to it was a small, um, white carved basin-like thing on legs, it was nothing like the cots they had on C’T’rea but it was clearly the baby’s cradle. Hally Kally gave an excited squeak.

    “Yes: baby!” whispered Dohra, squeezing her hand hard out of sheer excitement.

    The beaming S-T’rraji led them forward. “Lady, two of our guests would like to see you and Baby!”

    “Come in,” said the woman in the bed, smiling at them. “I’m Concubine M’llpommeennee.” She held up her hands and some pink senso-tissues floated up and wiped them. “Sorry, I seem to have done nothing but eat since he was born!” she said with a happy laugh.

    “How do you do, Lady M’llpommeennee?” said Dohra, coming forward eagerly. “I’m Dohra, and this is Hally Kally. Congratulations on the baby! –Ooh, isn’t he lovely!” she breathed, looking down at the sleeping infant.

    Hally Kally nodded, smiling. “Garble, garble, Hally Kally,” she said with a wobbly curtsey.

    “You don't have to curtsey to me, Hally Kally! And please, just call me M’llpommeennee, Dohra, we’re all girls together here!” said M’llpommeennee cheerfully.

    “Garble, garble,” agreed Hally Kally. She pointed at the baby and said excitedly to Dohra: “Garble, garble, garble, garble!”

    “Yeah, he’s gorgeous,” agreed Dohra. “What are you going to call him, M’llpommeennee?”

    “I haven’t decided yet, so he’s just ‘Baby’ for the moment!” she said with a happy laugh. “The first Concubine-Dowager favours ‘Athlor’, only that’s a Whtyllian name. I don’t fancy it myself—though of course His Serene Highness is half Whtyllian, so it wouldn’t be wholly inappropriate. What do you think of ‘Agg’memmnyon’?”

    Dohra had to swallow, but it didn’t matter, because the ladies sitting with her all cried: “Ugh, no!”

    “Nobody likes it but me,” admitted M’llpommeennee. “It’s a popular boys’ name, back home on New Attl’nntya.”

    So that was where she was from! It certainly explained that marvellous sweeping cloud of shiny black hair and the pale skin—not pinkish like Dohra’s but more of an ivory shade. The baby was darker, more yellowy, with a puff of straight black fuzz on his head, half hidden by the dearest little lacy knitted cap. Pink. On C’T’rea it was yellow for a boy and pink for a girl, but never mind, it took all sorts to make a Known Universe. “What about J’n? That’s a C’T’rean name, that’s my brother’s name,” she said shyly. “But we usually call him J’nno.”

    “J’nno! That’s very pretty! What do you think, Maa’rgreet?” she said eagerly.

    Maa’rgreet was a plump older lady, very fair-skinned, dressed in shades of green, with glittering green stones in her ears and her gauzy veil half hiding her round, pleasant face. “I like it!” she said eagerly. “Don’t you, Veey’wollah?”

    This lady was also plump and older: there were grey streaks in the thick black hair under the deep violet veil, and her round yellow-brown face wore a very amiable expression. “Oh, yes! I do like that! It’s very sweet! And I think His Serene Highness would like it; we’ve got a Gr’mmeayan name very like it: Jay-Neenn!” –Right, so she was a Gr’mmeayan: so were they usually a sort of golden-brown, then? Setting aside the question of whether “Jay-Neenn”, certainly as pronounced by Veey’wollah, was in the least like “J’nno.”

    The third lady, dressed all in yellow, was much younger: black-skinned like S’draa and S-B’llelli. She winked one slanted dark eye at Dohra and Hally Kally and said very mildly: “I wouldn’t say it was all that much like ‘Jay-Neenn’, but yes: I like it. It’s nice to meet you both, Dohra and Hally Kally. I’m Concubine Nh’ree-Ann. I can see you’re wondering about us Gr’mmeayans, so let me explain: there’s two sorts: some of us are black, like me, and some are more of a pale golden-brown, like Veey’wollah.”

    “Thank you, Nh’ree-Ann,” said Dohra limply. “The Encyclopaedia didn’t have all that much about Gr’mmeayans.”

    The Lady M’llpommeennee was drinking from a tall pink and blue glass, but at this she lowered it and said in astonishment: “Did you look it up?”

    “Um, yes,” said Dohra uncomfortably. Weren’t the ladies of the hareem allowed to?

    But no, it wasn’t that: she said: “Goodness! His Serene Highness will be pleased! He’s always saying we ladies are awfully ignorant, all except Lleeayssnillia, of course! She’s always got her head in the thing, but really—!”

    “It’s so boring,” agreed Maa’rgreet comfortably.

    “And after all, does a concubine need all that education?” agreed Veey’wollah.

    Nh’ree-Ann grinned at Dohra. “Well, I’ve never thought so, but then, His Serene Highness doesn’t think much of me!”

    “Dear, that isn’t true,” said Veey’wollah, patting her hand anxiously.

    “Pooh! ’Course it is, Veey’wollah! I’ve been here for eight years, now, and he’s only ever given me one baby,” she said to the girls, “and at that he only took me in out of the kindness of his heart, because Pa-pa lost all his money in a silly off-world speculation, and none of the young lords would look twice at me for a bond-partner. So Ma-ma spoke to First Concubine-Dowager M’ffarbell and she got His Serene Highness to make an offer!” She smiled happily.

    “He did say that he wouldn’t give Lleeayssnillia more than the one baby, either,” murmured Maa’rgreet. “Well, you see, my dear,” she said kindly to Dohra, “there have been cases in the past where several brothers have got together and tried to oust the ruling House. One male baby per girl is safer.” 

 

    “Nuh—Yuh—Uh, I see,” she croaked.

    He’s a lovely man, mind you, sent Nh’ree-Ann on a sympathetic note, but his mother’s a Whtyllian. She’d never put up with a blue heir! “Well, that’s how it is,” she said aloud. “Lleeayssnillia’s very well educated, and he really likes her, but she’ll never get to be First Concubine, and the rest of us bore him silly!”

    “You can’t say he ignores us, though, Nh’ree-Ann,” said M’llpommeennee calmly.

    “Not in bed, no! No, well, I don’t want anything else, and I can’t understand a fraction of what he says to me, to tell you the truth.”

    “Nor can I,” she admitted, smiling vaguely. “Maybe Baby will be bright, though.”

    “Of course!” cooed Veey’wollah. “You’ll be vewwy, vewwy bwight, won't ’oo, Baby J’nno?—Yes, I like that!—But don’t start getting ambitions for him, dear: the last concubine that did that—well, it was before my time, but old S-Galli remembers it very well, it was in His Serene Highness’s grandfather’s day—he sold her.”

    “Sold one of the Royal Concubines?” gasped Nh’ree-Ann.

    “Yes. Well, he was a horrid old man, of course, not in the least like his son, my dearest Meagraw Seullim’n—you met a Seullim’n, did you, dear? It’s a very popular name with that generation: named after him, you see!” she said to Dohra, beaming. “I can’t imagine our dear Meagraw Nh’rran-Jay doing anything of the sort, but, well, a Meagraw does have the power.”

    His hareem ladies agreed that he did. And, Maa’rgreet then deciding that M’llpommeennee should get some sleep, Dohra accepted Nh’ree-Ann’s invitation to come and see some more of the palace and meet “the others.”

    Most of the others were older ladies, too! How old must the Meagraw be? His terrifying if gracious mother hadn't seemed more than, um, well, fiftyish in C’T’rean years?

    “The Meagraw’s twenty-one IG years old,” explained Nh’ree-Ann. “Twenty-six local years.”

    Dohra nodded feebly: it’d be about twenty-six in C’T’rean years, too. But all those ladies were at least fifty in C’T’rean years!

    “You don’t understand,” said Nh’ree-Ann placidly. “Those ladies were all his father’s concubines. He inherited them, but he doesn’t use them: I mean, it’d be like making love to your aunties!” she choked, suddenly going into a fit of the giggles.

    “I see: so they just live in the palace, like—like—”

    “Aunties,” concluded Nh’ree-Ann simply.

    Well, yes, there was no other word for it, all those ladies—by now they’d seen something like thirty of them—were his aunties.

    “Some of them went to live with His Serene Highness’s brothers, of course. Prince Ah’k’bar and Prince Nuhray’n have both got large palaces of their own.”

    “Yuh—uh, so how many were there?”

    “Actual concubines? Around fifty, I suppose. And about a hundred Pleasure Girls and dancers, but we’ve only got a dozen Pleasure Girls, now. His Serene Highness doesn't keep his own dancers: we use the professional troupe from the Royal Theatre in the city. We’re quite modern, you see! And there’s only six Royal Concubines now: it’s very old-fashioned to have a huge hareem. Me and M’llpommeennee; and Jah-Lallhah—the black-skinned girl in the pink, sewing the little cap for the new baby; and Hah’dayee, the pale-skinned Gr’mmeayan in the blue, and L’Thea, the blonde girl: she’s a New Rthfrdian like Maa’rgreet, well, actually she’s her niece.”—Dohra nodded: those were two of the ladies watching the Services with the very old lady that the others called “Aunty Mullah-wee”: she’d belonged to the Meagraw’s grandfather.—“Lleeayssnillia is the other one: she’s the one that’s a Friyrian. Mind you, I’m not saying the last Meagraw didn’t sleep with all of his concubines at some stage, because after all, it was his right, and then, a girl’d feel slighted if he didn’t. But after the Lady M’ffarbell came to the palace and he took her as his First Concubine, he never bothered much with the rest of them. Well, she had everything, you see: brains and beauty.”

    Dohra nodded hard. She could agree with that, whatever she might think of the girl’s idea of what constituted “modern.”

    “If she hadn’t been a concubine,” said Nh’ree-Ann cautiously, “Ma-ma says he would actually have take her as his bond-partner. But you see, she wasn’t a virgin when he bought her, she’d belonged to a Lord of Whtyll, so it couldn’t happen.”

    Dohra agreed groggily: “I get it. Um, is there a word for a Meagraw’s bond-partner?”

    “Yes! Very, very lucky!” said Nh’ree-Ann with her merry laugh. “No, there is, sorry! A Meagrawaine. But we haven’t had one of those since, um… His Serene Highness’s great-grandmother, it would’ve been. There’s a lovely picture of her in the blue sitting-room, want to see?”

    They’d already been through about sixteen blue rooms which had looked like sitting-rooms to Dohra, but she agreed, and Nh’ree-Ann led them off down yet more corridors and through yet more sitting-rooms. “Here!” she said, opening yet another ornately carved door.

    Yep, it was blue, all right, and that up there was a picture of a very pretty lady— Dohra gasped, and staggered slightly, clinging onto Hally Kally’s hand for dear life, as it suddenly all came back to her in a swamping great wave! 

 

    The silvery-haired lady who’d been sitting at a desk with her back to them had turned. She got up and said, smiling: “Hullo.”

    “Hullo, Lleeayssnillia!” replied Nh’ree-Ann cheerfully.—See how blue she is? she sent to Dohra.—“We’re not disturbing you, are we? We just came to see the picture of the last Meagrawaine.”

    “You’re not disturbing me at all,” said Lleeayssnillia pleasantly, coming forward. Her slanted golden eyes narrowed slightly as Hally Kally made a wobbly curtsey but she made no remark, just held out her left hand, thumb slightly raised—lady-to-lady, that was right, Dohra could remember it all now, and in less than five IG microseconds the Palace guards’d be in here with their blasters drawn, oh, help! “You must be some of our guests, I think?”

    “Yes,” agreed Nh’ree-Ann. “This is Dohra and this is Hally Kally; see, she’s a friymanoid, just like your dear little Ccrain-jee!”

    What? She must have named him after the Captain! Numbly Dohra touched thumbs, Friyrian fashion, with Captain Ccrainchzzyllia’s sister…

    How did that happen? Nh’ree-Ann had gone and Dohra and Hally Kally were sitting side-by-side on a sofa, Hally Kally gripping her hand tightly, and the Lady Lleeayssnillia was calmly pulling up a chair to face them.

    “Don’t worry: darling Ccrain put a very strong shield round everything, Dohra, and I’m reinforcing it,” she said.

    “Yes,” said Dohra numbly. Why couldn’t she remember it all before?

    “He’d shielded it from you for your own safety,” said Lleeayssnillia. “Don’t try to send it to me, Dohra, I can read it. …Oh, dear, become a male?” she said with a grimace, shuddering slightly but also giving a merry little tinkle.

    She didn’t seem all that much in need of rescue to Dohra.

    “I’m not, really. I’m treated terribly well, and His Serene Highness is very kind. But of course, it’s not like being free; I can’t just call a bubble whenever I feel like it.”

    “Um, no. He’s—he’s very upset about you,” croaked Dohra.

    “I know: darling Ccrain!”

    “I see, you call him that for short,” said Dohra idiotically.

    “Mm. Stop worrying about Nh’ree-Ann, she thinks she went away of her own free will.”

    “Um, yeah,” said Dohra, licking her lips.

    “You-Know-Who can’t pick me up,” said Lleeayssnillia calmly. “Whtyllian or not.”

    Thank the Federation! Dohra sagged on her sofa. It wasn’t a flop couch, it was some primmo thing—well, a megazillion times more comfortable than any item of furniture in their slot back home, but—

    A81, bring a tray of drinks, please! ordered Lleeayssnillia. –Don’t say anything in front of the palace servo-mechs, Dohra: You-Know-Who uses them to spy for her, she added.

    Dohra nodded convulsively, clutching Hally Kally’s hand.

    “Most of the palace’s flop couches are in the guest quarters or the Meagraw’s own private suite,” said the Friyrian calmly as the servo-mech slid in. “These are all Gr’mmeayan pieces. Comfortable enough, but I miss the sort of furniture I grew up with.”

    “You would,” agreed Dohra limply as the servo mech passed her and Hally Kally glasses of a viscous, oily, dark green fluid. “I’m sorry, Lady, what is this?”

    “It looks horrid, doesn’t it?” said Lleeayssnillia, taking a glass for herself. “But it’s delicious, actually. It’s a local alcoholic beverage: very sweet. They call it gharree-longhee.”

    She was sipping hers, so Dohra tasted it cautiously, Ooh, yum! She beamed and nodded at Hally Kally and the friymanoid got the point, and raised her glass.

    “Garble, garble!” she gasped. Well, it sounded like “pottoo salts,” but that didn't make sense. 

 

    The servo-mech slid out and Lleeayssnillia leant forward. “It wasn’t ‘pottoo salts’, Dohra, it was ‘pott’hu’salzza.’ It’s very like this; I thought she might recognise it.”

    “The—the Captain drinks that!” stuttered Dohra.

    “Yes. It’s a favourite after-dinner Friyrian liqueur. Ccrain’s very fond of it. Where—” She swallowed. “Where did you find her, Dohra, my dear?”

    There were tears in the big slanted golden eyes. Dohra looked at her uncertainly. “Um, do you mean Hally Kally, ma’am? I didn’t find her, she’s one of Jojo’s candidates, he bought her from—Um, well, not a Bdeeg, the Bdeeg just delivered her. I don’t know who the seller was, but he can’t have treated her that good, because she was very dirty, and, um, had a bracelet on. We picked her up at the spaceport just before we left Pflaumschnau’Provia IV.”

    “Buh—but— It’s a coincidence, then? You hadn’t realised?” she gasped.

    “Um, no. Realised what, ma’am?”

    “Dohra, my dear, she’s Ccrain’s daughter!”

    Dohra swallowed hard. After quite some time she muttered numbly: “Help.”

    “I am quite sure,” said Lleeayssnillia to her unspoken thought. “She’s got his genetic encoding: quite unmistakable. And I just hope,” she noted grimly, “that You-Know-Who didn’t spot it.”

    “Help,” muttered Dohra again. “Would she—um—”

    “She’d use it somehow, Dohra, she’s like that. Possibly to keep me here once it had dawned that I want to go home.”

    “So you do want to leave!”

    “Oh, yes: very much. But I didn’t want you to labour under the mistaken impression that I was in dire straits, or desperately unhappy. Well, I love my little boy, but I wouldn't say I was happy, exactly. But not unhappy!” she said quickly.

    “No,” agreed Dohra, wishing she could see the little boy.

    “I’ll send for him!” said Lleeayssnillia with a tinkle. She leant forward again and took Hally Kally’s free hand. “She understands Friyrian,” she said after a moment, “so I think I’d better speak in that.”

    “Okay. Um, my translator’s a bit Special Offer. It’s been cultured up for Gr’mmeayan, and it will pick up Friyrian, if the being speaking it’s got a translator, too, but I dunno how accurate it is.”

    “Then if I say anything you don’t understand, please ask.” She waited while Hally Kally spoke excitedly. “Yes. Thank you, Hally Kally, dear,” she said. “Dohra, Hally Kally would like me to thank you on her behalf—yes, for you, Hally Kally!—for being so kind to her.”

    “Me? I never did anything,” said Dohra, going very pink.

    “But of course you did!” said Lleeayssnillia with a little tinkle. “Yes, Hally Kally?”

    Hally Kally made a long and excited speech.

    “Yes,” said Lleeayssnillia with tears in her eyes. “I’m sure she does. –She says you look just like her mother, B’tty Kally,” she said to Dohra. “I don’t remember her very well, but I do recall her cheeks would go pink in that same way; Ccrain thought it was wonderful!”

    Dohra gulped. “He—he said he once had a being like me, but she—she was stolen from him,” she croaked.

    “Yes. I was only a little girl—about, um, eight, I think, in your years,” she said, smiling carefully at her, “but I remember how furious and upset poor Ccrain was. He’d been away on his ship, you see. Hally Kally would have been… five in your years, Dohra. Not quite old enough to start First School, back home. Ccrain got the best private detectives on the planet onto it, but they never found out who did it. But I know.” Her delicate lips tightened.

    “Who?” said Dohra nervously.

    “Our brother, Rppnfeemaiyyia,” she said tightly. “He boasted about it when he kidnapped me, would you believe?”

    “I would, actually. He’s dead now,” said Dohra hoarsely.

    “Yes: it was all in Ccrain’s message.” Her little pearly teeth showed for a moment. “I wish I’d seen it done. He kept poor B’tty Kally somewhere off-world for years, but then tired of her and sold her. I suppose the little girl was sold, too. I can’t believe she’s turned up now!”

    “It’s a real coincidence,” agreed Dohra. Help, now there were two of them to get off the plasmo-blasted primmo dump, how was the Captain gonna manage that? And the baby as well: she was very sure Lleeayssnillia wouldn’t want to leave him behind, well, what mother would? Though it didn’t sound as if the Meagraw would want to keep him, actually.

    “He calls him the blue boy: he thinks it’s amusing,” said Lleeayssnillia detachedly.

    “Right, that shows what sort of a being he is!” retorted Dohra angrily.

 

    “Well—anything-ist, as they say,” murmured the Friyrian. “But one has to remember this is a closed world, Dohra. He’s had very little contact with the other worlds of the Federation—his father, I might add, wouldn’t have been at all averse to sending him to Third School off-world, but Guess Who vetoed that?”

    Dohra looked at her in horror.

    “Yes, well, anything that even looks like threatening her posi—” Lleeayssnillia broke off. “Thank you, A81. There you are, Ccrain-jee darling! Come to Ma-ma!” And, tinkling happily, she accepted the dearest little plump pale blue child from the servo-mech.

    “Garble, garble, garble!” said Hally Kally in a state of great excitement.

    “Yes, he looks very like you, doesn’t he?” agreed his mother, holding him on her knee. “There we go, Ccrain-jee darling! Some pretty ladies have come to see you!”

    “How old is he, ma’am?’ asked Dohra eagerly.

    “Um—goodness, what with IG years and Friyrian years and Gr’mmeayan years—! Well, he’s one whole Gr’mmeayan year! He had his birthday last week, didn't you, darling? I think that’s about one C’T’rean year, actually,” she said to Dohra.

    That’d be right: the Captain had said she’d been kidnapped about eighteen IG months back, and humanoid gestation took just over half an IG year… yes. “I hate maths,” admitted Dohra.

    “Me, too! But I’ve been plugging on with the algebra and so forth. Every time I’m tempted to give it up I think of what Ccrain would say,” she said cheerfully.

    Dohra looked at her in some awe: she couldn't imagine herself ever stewing over maths just because J’nno thought she ought to!

    “The other concubines think I’m mad, of course,” said the Friyrian calmly, setting the little boy on the floor. “But we have access to both the New Rthfrdian Third School Correspondence lessons and the Intergalactic University Distance Education courses, so why not take advantage of them?”

    “Mm. It’d be awfully boring if you didn’t have something to do. –Ooh, he can crawl!” said Dohra eagerly.

    “Yes. He can stand up, too, but he’s lazy about it! –Yes, come on, Hally Kally, let’s!” she said, sitting gracefully on the blue-patterned wtmyrian carpet with her son. And soon all three of them were down there with the little boy, playing happily, not a care in the Universe…

    “It’s time for his lunch,” said Lleeayssnillia on a regretful note as a plump s-woman in the usual white draperies came in, bowing. “Yes, take him, please.” And the little boy was borne away, emitting a mixture of happy chuckles and tinkles over the s-woman’s shoulder.

    “Oh, dear,” said Lleeayssnillia, suddenly drooping. “I was forgetting…”

    “Mm,” agreed Dohra, biting her lip. “Um, do you think—Well, I won’t ask what it is, because I’d never be able to shield it, but do you think the Captain’s plan will work?”

    His sister sighed. “No. It’s too intricate—typical male, of course. I’ve never wanted to be one, and though it may be a case of mind over matter, what if the matter just won’t?”

    Dohra swallowed hard. Yes, she could just see the forceful Captain Ccrainchzzyllia overlooking that sort of point.

    “The best thing would be to purchase me outright,” said Lleeayssnillia dully, “but even if the family sold everything they own, they’d never raise the sort of money a Meagraw thinks himself entitled to ask for a Royal Concubine. Well, not him, as such, but you see, it’s what’s due to his position. His mother would never let him sell any of us for less than a world’s ransom—and probably not then, because there’d be rumours all round the two galaxies that Gr’mmeaya was bankrupt! Um, sorry, Hally Kally: that means going broke—no money, see?”

    “She sees,” said Dohra as Hally Kally nodded hard and agreed: “Garble, garble, garble!”

    A glum silence fell.

    They were still all sitting on the carpet. Lleeayssnillia hugged her knees and stared into space for a long time. Finally she said: “Look, will you carry a message for me?”

    “Of course!”

    “No, I mean in the same way, Dohra. You and Hally Kally won’t remember anything.”

    “You don’t mean you’re gonna make us forget everything?” she cried.

    “Yes. Well, not meeting me and Ccrain-jee, of course! But all the rest.”

    “Go on, then,” she said crossly. “You better do it before I change my mind.”

    “No: first,” said Lleeayssnillia, the lovely oval turquoise cheeks darkening with an indigo flush, “I must express my very deepest gratitude to you, Dohra. You’ve been wonderfully brave.”

    Had she? Actually she had such a huge crush on the lady’s brother that she didn’t think she could have refused him. This or anything.

    “Of course you could have refused. Whether or not he manages to get me out, I and the family will always be grateful to you. Um—I should warn you, this may give you a headache: I’m not as good as Ccrain.”

    “That’s all right,” said Dohra. “Do it.—Ooh, dear,” she said. “I've got such a headache!”

    “Garble, garble,” said Hally Kally, feeling her own head and wincing.

    The Friyrian got up, holding out her hands to them. “I think you need your lunch!” she said with a merry tinkle. “Come along, up we come!” S-N’llie! she sent loudly.

    A very young s-girl hurried in, bowing. “Yes, Lady?”

    “Please take Lady Dohra and Lady Hally Kally back to the guest quarters. –Thank you so much for coming to see me and little Ccrain-jee!” she said gaily.

    And, Dohra agreeing: “It’s been fun, and it was lovely to meet you, Lleeayssnillia, and your little boy,” and Hally Kally agreeing: “Garble, garble, garble,” they went on their way. 

 

    The mammalian humanoid sat back, sighing, and drank off the remains of her beverage thirstily, while all around the big blue room beings sagged with the relaxation of tension and sent for more drinks, and mopped lobes or temples or whatever they used.

    “I feel as if I’ve been suspended by the tail over a Vvlvanian magma pit for an IG week!” admitted Squadron Commander ZrMl, sagging. “A Whtyllian Full Surgeon? I was sure she was gonna read the Friyrian’s message!”

    “Me, too,” admitted BrTl limply.

    “It was thrilling!” shuddered One. “I was on tenterhooks!” shuddered Two.

    “I was on them, too!” squeaked their Flppu.

    “And me,” admitted the Lirriot Queen, draining the last of her fluorogas and qwlot. “May one ask, what was she, before she became a Queen, Dohra?”

    “Lady M’ffarbell? Well, she was a rich Whtyllian’s concubine. Oh, before that? Actually,” said Dohra with a grin, “old S-Galli told us that she was only a clerk’s daughter!”

    The Lirriot Queen emitted a series of hoarse tt-tt-tt noises, clearly a snigger, and the mangy consort joined in, several tones higher.

    “Oh, well, if she wasn’t one of the Lords of Whtyll, no need—well, probably no need—to worry,” admitted BrTl. “Depending on just how good these Friyrians’ mind-powers were.”

    “Yeah. I didn’t like the sound of that Major-Domo being,” admitted ZrMl.

    “Um, no. He was very shrewd,” conceded Dohra.

    “Did he spot you?” asked BrTl keenly.

    She smiled. “Wait and see. You may be surprised.”

    “Which ones did the Meagraw take?” asked blndreL eagerly. “The Nblyterian?”

    “You may be surprised by that, too!”

    By now the emanations of Go on! Go on! from all around the room were deafening certain beings but Dohra didn’t seem to—Oh. The Thwurbullerian was shielding most of the racket from her, fancy that. Quickly BrTl offered her the choice of Refreshing Gorbachian Plum Juice or spring water before the being could force another zhr’ee on her. Dohra chose spring water, smiling at him.

    “What was the dark green stuff the turquoise being gave you?” he asked idly.

    “Um, what? Oh, did you pick that up? It was the only interesting thing we had to drink, actually, BrTl. Um, I can’t remember its name.”

    Gharree-longee!—Pott’hu’salzza! came the messages from all round the room.

    “Pottoo salts, Great BrTl!” squeaked the yellow Flppu.

    “Er—yeah. Something like that. Got any—” Gharree-longee or pott’hu’salzza? he asked the servo-mech that had slid up to his elbow. It told him the price of an IG shot of pott’hu’salzza and, shuddering slightly, he ordered a qwlot instead.

    Too much sugar in it, anyway, sent Trff.

    Was that meant to console me? If so—It was sending No, but he pretended he hadn't picked it up and urged Dohra to go on.

    Smiling, Dohra went on. 

 

    All polly-lollies were going to wear what Jojo ordained at their appearance at the Meagraw’s dinner, and NOTHING ELSE! Finally S’draa and Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All stopped arguing and retired to their rooms to await his pleasure.

    “This purple outfit’s It,” warned wondreL drily.

    “You astound me,” he said acidly, approaching a blob to the palace’s recycler.

    Dohra gasped and backed off. Janna and Panna shrieked and rushed outside. See made a dash for the nearest bedroom and hurled herself under the bed. Hally Kally dithered, but remained bravely at Dohra’s side. WondreL stood her ground, but looked very nervous. Only Qwolla was unmoved. “My mother does that. She’s a whizz with blobs.”

    Jojo applied the blob. The palace’s recycler shuddered all over. A bit like Dohra’s first attempt to get her culture-pan to make a blancmange pudding. Not like the pan—like the pudding. J’nno dubbed it “shaking pudding” and ate it anyway, though admitting that he could feel the vibrations for the next three local hours.

    “Now,” said Jojo firmly, “give me that purple outfit, polly-lolly: all of it, the sandals too.” Shrugging, wondreL took it all off. The girls watched with bated breath as he fed it all into the recycler—the twins hovering nervously in the doorway and even See emerging gingerly from under the bed. Again: white and shiny, he ordered. The recycler shook and burped.

    “Great splintered shards of quog!” cried Dohra. “Look! It’s done it!”

    So it had. “Ooh!” they all said as wondreL put it on and the three pieces of white, shiny whatever-it-was glowed against the pale lime skin.

    “Good,” said Jojo smugly. “I knew it’d work.”

    “That wasn’t what you were broadcasting, but she looks great,” admitted See. “I’ll find a flower for your crest, wondreL!” She rushed outside.

    “And if the Meagraw doesn’t like that, he isn’t a male worth his gloffii sauce!” concluded Jojo grimly. “Oh—sorry, polly-lollies: it’s a great delicacy at home, but the females don’t usually like it—said to be too strong, or some such space garbage.” 

 

    “Rotten fish?” said Dohra very weakly to the mind-message.

    “Fermented,” he said firmly. “Tell S’draa to get in here, in the outfit she imagines she’s going to wear tonight.”

    Resignedly Dohra went. S’draa was trying on some silver and black spotted wtmyrians. Heretofore Dohra would not have believed any wtmyrian colony could cling that closely to the humanoid form.

    “It’s galaxious, S’draa. But is it what a lorpoid imagines a Meagraw’ll like?”

    Surprisingly S’draa gave a hoarse laugh, clapped her on the shoulder, said: “You’re not all bad, kid!” and accompanied her without protest. Jojo approved, but the high-heeled shoes were condemned: Meagraws didn’t want their females to tower over them. Biff! Burp, shake, burp! Hiccup—burp! A new pair was produced, silver to match the garment. She had a stack of plain silver rings round her slender black neck and ditto marching up her slender black forearms: Jojo said approvingly: “Good, very exotic. His own black polly-lollies only wear silly dangling things.” So she went off very pleased with herself.

    Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All had screaming hysterics at the idea of her gauze undergarment and floating white mesh gown going anywhere near the recycler, so Jojo produced something from his bag and bundled it in, to boot reapplying his blob. Shake! SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE! Wobble! Wo-o-bble—Dohra blenched.—Wobble, wobble… SHAKE, SHUDDER! BURP!

    “I don’t like PINK!” shouted Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All angrily.

    “Get into it, or you lose your chance!” whistled Jojo.

    Pouting, she got into it: a very deep, matte pink gown, strapless, outlining her splendid breasts clearly, very tight to mid-thigh and then swirling out in a great sweep of a skirt. “You can’t even see my legs!” she said crossly.

    “Or that blue pooney: that is a plus,” noted wondreL.

    See was fixing a white flower in wondreL’s crest. “I think it’s very ladylike.”

    “You!” There was a short silence. She stared at her reflection in the big mirror.

    S’draa reappeared in her dressing-gown, and gasped. “Why can’t I wear that?”

    That settled it, and Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All, smirking horribly, consented to wear it.

    “Will it cheer her up, though?” said Jojo with a sad whistle as she went off to wash.

    “She isn’t a very happy person,” admitted Dohra.

    “No, but then she doesn’t make an effort!” he said acidly. “All right, you’re next, twins. Undo those ropes, please.” They fluffed out their curls, and shudder! Shudder! Shake, shake, shake—SHUDDER! BURP! BURP! Two palest apple-green clouds flew up into the air. The twins tried them on. They were simple little gauze shifts, held up with tiny shoulder-straps tied in bows. The long skirts were soft and clinging, but not tight. Somehow the dresses managed to lend considerable subtlety to their far from subtle figures. After some stunned staring See said in a shaken voice: “Jojo, you’re a magician!” And Janna admitted: “It’s not our act, but if you think it’ll impress the Meagraw, okay. Do we get to wear any jewels?” 

 

    “Yes; little wkli shell drops in the ears: return—”

    “Returnable!” they chorused. “Yeah, yeah!” Looking pleased, they went off to their room.

    Jojo whistled happily. “That’ll show that tall being!”

    “Uh—the Major-Domo?” said Dohra cautiously. “Didn’t he admire them?”

    “He classed them as athletes, polly-lolly,” he revealed bitterly.

    “Help: clones?” she gasped.

    “Something very like it. My polly-lollies aren’t clones! What’d a rumour like that do to my reputation?”

    “Mm. Um, do Hally Kally next?”

    “If you’re brave enough to stand it,” he replied smartly. “Actually it’s hard to better that white garment See chose for her.”—See smirked.—“Something white, but lacy.” Burp, burp, burp, shudder—BURP! The long, tight, white lace dress turned Hally Kally into an elegant lady, there was no other phrase for it. The girls gaped, and Hally Kally gaped at her reflection in the mirror. The dress was very low-cut over the bosom but had long sleeves, the pale blue skin glimmering softly through the lace.

    “Ooh, lovely!” breathed Qwolla.

    “We’ll put her hair up,” decided See. “With some of those big white frilly Phang-Phangian senso-orchids they’ve got over by the little round pond! Well, they said to use anything!”

    Jojo then advanced on Dohra with handful of pale blue and a blob. “Take everything off, polly-lolly, and stand still. …There!”

    Dohra looked limply at the mirror’s reflection of her bare shoulders and arms emerging from a pale blue fluffy cloud.

    “You can almost see my nipples!” she squeaked.

    “Not quite,” he said smugly. “If I read that tall being right, that’s what the Meagraw wants. See how that shade of blue makes you look pinker?”—Never mind pinker, it was not only far too low in front, it was outlining her tummy and bottom with horrid clarity.—“Stop thinking of it as a blue cloud and think of it as a pretty dress,” he ordered severely.

    “Um, I am, really, Jojo, only it is awfully low-cut,” said Dohra, blushing.

    “See that pinkness? Pity she can’t turn it on and off,” he said with a sigh to wondreL.

    “Yeah. –Bend over,” she ordered Dohra. “See if ya tits fall out.” Very red, Dohra bent over. The exiguous-looking dress didn’t give way or spill her breasts, one small mercy.

    “Look out!” shouted See, as the lorpoid then approached Qwolla with a strange-looking blob.

    “What is it?” croaked Dohra.

    “A liquid scintillion blob, and it’s plasmo-blasted dangerous! If it gets up her, it’ll kill her!”

    “She’ll be all right: the gilled variety closes off their orifices when they’re underwater, didn't you know that? –Just close everything, polly-lolly,” he adjured her.

    “Rich ladyships at home use the stuff all the time,” added Qwolla cheerfully. “Go on, Jojo, everything’s sealed.”

    The girls watched fearfully. A thin silvery film spread all over Qwolla, from the nipples to the blue-painted toenails, flowing out around the feet to form a skirt… Whether Jojo just flung a handful of moonstones at it or the blob sort of grabbed them and manipulated them the girls weren’t sure. But there stood Qwolla, smiling serenely, in the most exquisite of silvery gowns—not metallic, but—well, like moonlight on a still lake, actually. Wonderful. Little drops glistened here and there, outlining the shape of a thigh, the curve of a hip…

    “Do I take it off to have a wash?” she asked mildly.

    “NO!” he shouted. There was a pause. “You’re in the water all the time, polly-lolly, you don’t need a wash. Just hair, nail paint, face paint—okay?” She nodded and went off happily.

    “I feel terrible,” moaned See. “I thought she was gonna melt down right in front of us!”

    Jojo ignored that and stuffed something into the recycler. BURP! SHUDDER, SHUDDER, SHUDDER! SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE! RATTLE! “Help!” gasped Dohra. They goggled wildly at it. Rattle, rattle, rattle…BURP! Moa-an… “I think it’s dead,” croaked See.

    “Pooh.” Casually Jojo poked with his toe. It gave a great BURP and disgorged something gold. “Won’t I look yellow all over?” said See mildly, climbing into it.

    She didn’t. She looked like a little gold statuette. Dohra gasped and clapped her hands. The long dress was about as tight as Qwolla’s. It had long sleeves and was high to the neck at the front but the back dipped to show her perfect spine right down to the start of the buttocks. “That tall being, though he pretended to himself he wasn’t, was very taken by that,” said Jojo, outlining the way in which the elegant little back curved in to the tiny waist and out again to the small, pear-shaped bottom.

    “He oughta been, it cost megabucks,” said its owner. “A red flower, do ya think?”

    “Um… Go and pick a few: we’ll see. –What the tall being was thinking,” said Jojo complacently to Dohra as See ran outside—“well, besides the dirty thoughts, humanoid-type—was ‘perfect little doll.’ So I’d say if the Meagraw turns her down, he’ll take her.”

    “She’s had a hard life, it’d be nice if she could find a nice man to take her permanently.”

    He gave her a curious look. “Did he strike you as a nice man, polly-lolly?”

    Dohra nodded her curly head hard. “Very!”

    “Well, well,” he murmured, as See dashed in, panting, with a great bunch of red flowers “Let’s see. No: too bright, too bright… Ah!” 

 

    He selected a huge deep crimson rose. “Nice wash, now, and ask your hygiene cabinet for attar of roses, no other scent—goddit?”

    Nodding obediently, See went off, her perfect red lips forming the words “attar of roses.”

    Jojo sighed. “I just hope that that tall being—I can tell you think he’s got standards, polly-lolly, don’t deafen me with it—will be able to put up with the ignorance along with the—what fruit was it her sit-upon looked like? –Doesn’t matter.”

    “Um,” said Dohra, “maybe if some being suggested the idea that he could, um, teach her?”

    “Polly-lolly,” said Jojo, “you are priceless! Price-less! Some being possibly could, yes. Hop along, now: wash, hair and face-paint: best foot of three forward!”

    Dohra only had two, but she hopped anyway.

    Certain persons had had no very clear idea what dinner with a Meagraw would be like, but most of them had thought that themselves parading would be in there somewhere, while he lounged in solitary splendour on possibly a flop couch, sizing them up. Piles of grapes, pwoggy-klingles, peaches, and so forth were in there, too, and whole roasted po-geese, and etcetera. They weren’t far wrong about the food, in fact piles of delicious fruit and whole roasted unidentifiable animals were the least of it. But the Meagraw wasn’t alone, far from it, though no other females were present. He and about twenty other men were gathered in what was subsequently revealed to be an anteroom. It featured wtmyrian carpets galore, low couches piled with silken cushions—some flop couches, some the local style, probably stuffed with nothing more up-market than Whtyllian duck down—and s-beings standing around gently waving giant feathered fans in the delicately perfumed atmosphere. In one corner there was an ornately dressed little band playing strange tinkling music.

    The tall being in person, in an outfit even more splendid than the morning’s, though still featuring a lot of gold and black, met them at the door, led Jojo in and announced, bowing deeply: “Your Serene Highness! Your Highnesses! Lords, Ambassadors, and Honoured Guests! May I respectfully present to your notice, Lorpoid Jojo and his lady candidates!” After which he retired to a couch and a less impressive being, though in even more ornate robes (mainly purple) took over and announced them all singly, in the order which Jojo had pre-ordained. Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All first, whether to propitiate her was anyone’s guess.

    That must be the Meagraw—silly hat, huh? sent wondreL as she and Dohra waited their turn just outside the door, peering through its crack.

    The Meagraw was one of the tan-skinned Gr’mmeayans, with a very good-humoured expression—though also with quite a look of his mother! Mm. That smiling man looks rather nice. He seems very struck with her.

    Must be due for Mullgon’ya, poor being, concluded wondreL, as the round-faced, jolly-looking middle-aged man next but one to the Meagraw rose, smiling, took Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All’s hand, and conducted her to a place on his own couch.

    They watched as S’draa did a twirl which Jojo had earlier ordered her not to, and made a very low, sweeping curtsey, in spite of the clinging wtmyrians. Or maybe they were helping her to keep her balance? An older, stout man seemed terrifically struck: barely had the Meagraw’s murmur of “Delighted, Lady S’draa,” died away than he was on his feet, claiming her hand.

    The twins were next, looking very girlish and smiling nicely. A cheery-faced middle-aged man brightened noticeably. Likes red hair, sent Dohra. Yeah. Wants a double dose of it, apparently, agreed wondreL as the twins settled on either side of him. Oops, you’re next!

    Dohra went in timidly, hoping to goodness she wouldn’t fall over when she tried to curtsey. The purple-clad being got her name a bit wrong, he pronounced it “Doh-lah”. She tried to pretend she hadn't noticed and curtseyed carefully, not looking the Meagraw in the face. Though whether Jojo’s intel was right, she had no idea: the Encyclopaedia hadn’t said—

    “So you’re Third Cook W’t, Dohra B’Jn,” the Meagraw was saying in an amused voice. “And you use the Encyclopaedia? Splendid!”

    Dohra looked up in horror.

    “Please come and sit by me, Lady Dohra. Allow me to introduce my next brother, Prince Ah’k’bar,”—the tall, dark-haired young man on the couch to his right smiled and bowed—“and our younger brother, Prince Nuhray’n.” At his left, another tall, dark young man, very good-looking, smiled eagerly at Dohra, sending—she thought, involuntarily, though she wasn’t a hundred percent sure—a very rude picture of her and him on a flop couch without their clothes on. Dohra smiled confusedly, muttered, “How do you do?” and collapsed onto the couch beside the Meagraw, wishing very much, amongst other points, that Jojo had had the sense to let Hally Kally come in with her.

    See was next. As she curtseyed elegantly most of the men in the room brightened noticeably. Jojo was sending: Check out the tall being! but Dohra pretended she hadn’t picked him up.

    “Not Major-Domo Jay-P’ll?” said Meagraw Nh’rran-Jay incredulously as several men came forward and introduced themselves eagerly to See. “But he said—” He broke off. “Oh, dear, poor old fellow!” he murmured with a laugh in his voice. “Dohra, my dear, give me your candid opinion of that little girl.”

    Dohra licked her lips. Why he was bothering to ask, when he could obviously read her without effort—! “Um, I like her very much. She’s pretty honest and straightforward, and very kind-hearted and generous. And she’s got a lot of natural taste. She’s had a very hard life… I suppose,” she ended miserably, “she hasn’t got the sort of background that a gentleman like him would approve of, though.”

    “Thank you,” said the Meagraw, laying a cool golden hand on her agitated pink one. “That was very honest. I’ve conveyed it to Jay-P’ll.”

    “No!” gasped Dohra in horror.

    “Yes.” He leant forward a little and beckoned, and the tall Major-Domo, his face inscrutable as ever, came over and bowed deeply. “You got that, Jay-P’ll?”

    “Yes, Your Serene Highness,” he said, looking at Dohra with approval. “Good evening, Lady Dohra. May I congratulate you on your appearance?”

    “Guh-good evening sir,” she stuttered. “Thank you. But Jojo chose this dress, not me.”

    “There you are!” said the Meagraw, his lips twitching. “Would you rescue the Lady See from those—ah—over-eager gentlemen, please, my dear Jay-P’ll, and… Give her a chance.”

    “Of course, Your Serene Highness,” he said expressionlessly, bowing. He went over to the group of males round See and led her to his couch. Dohra could feel the waves of uncertainty coming off her all the way across the room.

    The Meagraw smiled just a little, but said only: “Who’s next?” 

 

    “Hally Kally. She’s a friymanoid, sir, and—and please bear in mind she hasn’t got a translator.”

    “What? I thought Mother—” He broke off, frowning a little, as Hally Kally was announced. She came in looking terrified, so Dohra tried very hard to emanate reassurance. This was a bit hard, as the Meagraw’s hand had somehow stayed on top of hers—help!

    “Please—come closer,” he said, beckoning to her with his free hand. “She must sit beside you, Dohra.” Smiling in great relief, Dohra beckoned, too, and patted the couch at her right, or Meagraw-less side. Still looking terrified, Hally Kally came and sat down.

    “But she’s quite young!” said the Meagraw under his breath as wondreL came in looking very casual: Dohra could feel she was very scared. She gave a Nblyterian bow, trying to look indifferent to the rapt attention of the entire roomful of men. Smiling, the Meagraw said: “Welcome to the palace, wondreL. May I say, it’s a privilege to have you here?”

    “Thank you for having me, sir,” she said uncertainly.

    “May I compliment you on your appearance? That is Nblyterian dress, I think?”

    “Yes. Some humanoids think it’s rude,” she admitted.

    “But no! It’s charming!”

    “I like it,” agreed Dohra, smiling encouragingly at her.

    Is he okay? sent the Nblyterian desperately.

    Dohra didn't reply that he was picking up her every thought, she sent: Very nice, and he made sure Hally Kally sat by me!

    Phew! She grinned her cheerful grin and sent sturdily to Jojo: Don’t fuss! as a dozen men forthwith surrounded her.

    “Sir, who is he?” asked Dohra in a low voice, as eventually wondreL sat down beside a tall, handsome middle-aged man. He had dark hair and a golden skin not unlike the Meagraw’s and his brothers’, but a rather different facial structure to that of the Gr’mmeayans: high cheekbones, a long, winged jaw, and very slanted, bright blue eyes.

    “That is the Whtyllian Ambassador, Lord Raj Tay Upahdeey’ah. He is familiar with Nblyteria, and in fact I asked him to look after her,” he said mildly. “So, there is one more?”

    “Yes. Well, one girl is sick.”

    “Oh, yes, Mother mentioned it. So may we expect this to be the lorpoid’s grand climax?” he asked with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

    “She is his favourite,” admitted Dohra weakly as Qwolla was announced. There was quite a stir in the room as she came in, and a crowd of men surrounded her, but eventually the Meagraw’s brother, Prince Ah’k’bar, had her sit beside him. Qwolla seemed as composed as ever, smiling and chatting.

    And then it was time for dinner: with a flourish from the little band a pair of double doors were thrown wide and they all went into a large dining-hall for the feast. Any expectations some might have formed for the rest of the evening were not fulfilled: it was spent in harmless chat and listening to the strange tinkly music. 

 

    Dohra stopped, smiling. “Go on, you're all dying to make bets, I can feel it!”

    “Right!” agreed blndreL, grinning. “Ten igs says the Meagraw takes the Nblyterian!”

    “No, no! Ten igs says he takes the pink Princess!” cried the Lirriot Queen.

    “Mok shit! Ten igs on the See being!” cried ZrMl, slapping them down on the table.

    “I bet on the fish-eating humanoid!” croaked Craaa.

    It seemed that everyone had their favourite. Except BrTl. “I’ll hold the bets,” he said glumly. WHY did you bet on the S’draa being? he sent sourly to his ship-companion.

    Why not? it replied jauntily. The being’s got a better chance than the lorpoid!

    Trff, you intergalactic clown, only a Flppu would bet on a lorpoid for a humanoid Meagraw, even the mutant had the sense to bet on Dohra!

    Manifestly he-it didn’t take her-it.

    BrTl didn’t dignify that one with a reply, he just carefully recorded all the bets in a small blob and sent for a double xathpyroid-size shot of qwlot.