The Mammalian Humanoid's Tale Concluded

15 

The Mammalian Humanoid’s Tale Concluded 

 

    According to Jojo, if the Meagraw wanted to try any of them out he would give him, Jojo, Prior Notice of Pleasure Girl Trial. But they weren’t to expect any offers or tryings-out for the next week: that wasn't how it worked! How it worked, the girls discovered, was endless sessions of dawdling in the gardens with the Meagraw and some of the gentlemen they’d already met, endless sessions of dawdling by or in the palace’s pools with ditto, endless chat sessions with the Meagraw and a selection of his ladies over trays of tweety tea and nibbles, and more dinners at which they sat with different gentlemen or the same gentlemen—and at which the only interesting thing that happened was one fat gentleman getting too free with See and the Major-Domo saying something in his ear and taking her off to sit by him. Jojo thought it was all very promising but most of the girls were getting very fed up and edgy. And Dohra was, frankly, bored. The idea of becoming a Meagraw’s Pleasure Girl seemed less and less attractive as the lazy days filtered by. In fact, why she had ever imagined she wanted it…

    She took to spending longer and longer periods sitting by Josh’ryn’s bed, holding her hand. It was very restful: Josh’ryn wasn't strong enough to talk much, mozzlees really took it out of a being. Hally Kally usually came with her: Dohra could see she was still unhappy and scared, but there wasn’t much anyone could do about this, because guess what? The graciously smiling First Concubine-Dowager still hadn’t coughed up a translator for her!

    By the end of the week she was so bored that she was actually quite glad to accept an invitation from His Serene Highness to visit him in his private suite. He wanted her and Hally Kally, so unless he was into threes or like that—All right, Jojo, it wouldn’t happen without Prior Notice of Pleasure Girl Trial!

    Gee, Jojo was right: nothing happened except that Dohra and the Meagraw played lots of games of 3-D pwm. He wasn’t very good at it and she had to explain the rules to him. 

 

   The set was very pretty: the pieces were all shades of blue glass, and he had lots of pretty ornaments and things that they awarded each other as prizes when they won. Just pretending, of course!

    The Meagraw asked her lots of questions but they weren’t the sort of questions Dohra would’ve said a man looking for an addition to his hareem would ask. Like, he wanted to know about the galley on Silver-Ash Flyer and her best recipes, and he was very interested to hear that their Chief Engineer was a Belraynian, and asked lots about the visit to her home, and her bond-partner and their Belraynian twins, and quite a lot about J’nno and what school on C’T’rea had been like: why in the Known Universe would a Meagraw wanna know that? He also asked about the other girls, but that was more what she’d expected. She tried hard to say something that would stress everybody’s good points. Though there wasn’t much doubt he was reading her.

    Several more days went by. The only thing of note that happened was that S’draa disgraced herself by putting her hand on a rude part of a middle-aged gentleman’s anatomy during a pool party. Well, heck, the Gr’mmeayans and their male guests only wore a little apron over their you-know-whats to go swimming, it was pretty obvious what was under there, specially when the aprons were wet! And poor S’draa was feeling very frustrated, she didn't understand at all about Prior Notice of Pleasure Girl Trial and that sort of space garbage. Yeah, all right, the man turned out to be the New Rthfrdian Ambassador and New Rthfrdians were notoriously stuffy, up-tight beings—but there was no need for Jojo to go into whistling hysterics over it!

    “It was improper,” observed Meagraw Nh’rran-Jay mildly over a game of four-handed Gr’mmeayan “Pop” the next day.

    “Only in your terms,” replied Dohra grimly, forgetting to say “sir” and also forgetting to say “pop” as See uncovered a three of triangles after the Meagraw’s three of circles.

    “Pop,” said Major-Domo Jay-P’ll mildly, picking up the pair of cards.

    “Oh, ‘pop’, so it was,” said See sadly, looking sideways at Dohra. You better apologise and say he’s right!

     “It would have been perfectly acceptable on hundreds of worlds, and with most of the men S’draa knows,” said Dohra grimly, completely ignoring the message.

    “Yes,” agreed the Major-Domo. “We understand that, Lady Dohra.” He picked up a card and turned it over. The Captain of squares. “Your turn.”

    “What? Oh—sorry.” Dohra turned the next card over. Bother: the four of circles.

    The Meagraw turned over the five of triangles. “Pop! I mean, bother, not pop. Oh, I’ve forfeited all my pairs, now, haven’t I?” Placidly he laid them aside, and watched as See turned up the Commander of circles. “Ambassador Schm’t has a closed mind—very similar to Aunty Maa’rgreet’s, actually. Little L’Thea is almost as bad. Typical New Rthfrdians, I'm afraid.”

    The Major-Domo turned up the two of circles. “Sir, your mother and I did point out there was no need to take the girl—”

    “I could hardly refuse poor old Aunty Maa’rgreet. And the girl’s settled in well, hasn’t she? Not a disruptive influence, anything of that sort. –Dohra?”

    Dohra didn’t turn up the next card: she said grimly: “I get it, that’s what you’re both afraid of. Because we’re all used to being free beings, and—and having a vote and doing a job and—and being able to make the first move when a man’s wearing a silly wet apron if we want to!”

    “Dohra,” said the Meagraw calmly, “you have never made the first move in your life.”

    “No, that’s right, sir, she hasn’t!” gasped See. “It’s like, clear as anything in your head,” she said apologetically to Dohra.

    “So what? It’s the principle,” she said grimly.

    “Dohra, if you don’t want to stay with me,” said Nh’rran-Jay heavily, “just say so.”

    “All right, I don’t!” said Dohra loudly. “I’ve changed my mind, and I dunno why I ever wanted to! And I’m sorry, and it’s not that I don’t like you, because I do! Only—well, I’m sure you can both read me, so I might as well say it!” she said with an evil glare at the major-domo. “This place is driving me to Mullgon’ya!”

    “Yes,” said the Meagraw with a sigh. “Don’t say anything, Jay-P’ll, dear man: you can see it as well as I.”

    “I— Yes,” he admitted ruefully. “Forgive me, Lady Dohra, but I had assumed that because of your placid temperament, our way of life might suit you.”

    “I dunno exactly what you mean by placid temperament, but I like doing things,” said Dohra tightly. “And—and being useful! And however nice all those dear little children might be, I wouldn’t call just having them for you being useful,” she said grimly to the Meagraw of Gr’mmeaya, “specially since you don’t want any of them to be your heir and you’ll never wanna give the ladies two sons each!”

    “How do you know that?” he asked, staring at her.

    “All your ladies know, do you think they’re stupid?” replied Dohra furiously, blinking back angry tears. “They told me the second day we were in the plasmo-blasted joint!” She got up unsteadily. “I’m sorry: I better go before I say something really rude.”

    Meagraw Nh’rran-Jay’s lips twitched but he got up politely and said, putting a hand very lightly on her blue-clad arm: “Dohra, my dear, there is no need to be frightened of me. Whoever gave you the idea that I was a monster?”

    His mother, mostly, who else? Dohra stared at him numbly.

    “Er—Mother has an inflated idea of my consequence,” he murmured.

    “Sorry, sir, I never meant to broadcast that!” she gasped.

    “No, that’s quite all right. I’ve no intention of keeping any of you here against your will; and in fact, if you ask Jojo he will explain that very strict Intergalactic laws are involved in transfers of Pleasure Beings.”

    “Um, he did say something about contracts of something, back when Josh’ryn was coming down with mozzlees… Like, you mean it’s IG law, sir?”

    “Of course.”

    Dohra’s knees went all funny and she sank down onto her chair again.

    “Hey, if it’s IG law, and they break it, the IG Militia’ll come down on them like an IG ton of mok shit!” beamed See.

    At this the colour drained out of Major-Domo Jay-P’ll’s handsome yellow-brown face. He had risen when his sovereign did; he groped for his chair. “You don't want to stay, after all?”

    “Me?” said See in amazement. “Yes, ’course I do! It’s lovely here: real warm and lots and lots of flowers, just like home, only—Uh, what I mean is, you don’t whip your ladies or like that here, do ya?”

    “No, we don’t,” said the Meagraw slowly, sitting down again. “Not for anything, and particularly not for not being able to pull a cart fast enough to suit a bully of a master.”

    “I thought you might be able to see that,” she admitted. “My parents had to sell me to him, my little brothers and sisters were starving. But I run away, don’t you worry!”

    “Well done. –Jay-P’ll, my dear fellow, I think you had best come right out and say it.”

    “Your Serene Highness, I would never dream—”

 

 

    “Jay-P’ll, half the trouble with Gr’mmeaya is that no-one ever dreams of not following protocol and so nothing gets done!” he said loudly. “Ask!”

    The major-domo’s thin, well-shaped lips trembled a little. “Very well then, sir,” he said with difficulty. “If you should not wish to retain the Lady See’s services yourself, might I respectfully beg to have the honour of being permitted to make the lorpoid an offer for her? As First Concubine, of course.”

    See gulped, and goggled at him.

    “Of course, Jay-P’ll. What do you think, Lady See?” said the Meagraw calmly.

    A variety of emotions flitted over the pretty little heart-shaped face. Finally she said in a tiny voice: “Coulden I just be one of his ordinary ones, sir?”

    Nh’rran-Jay gave his major-domo a warning look. “Don't you wish to be Jay-P’ll’s First Concubine, then?”

    “Nuh—I mean, yes, ’course I want to! Only all them others, they’d be jealous of me, if—if I got put over them.”

    The Meagraw got up. “There are no others. I think you’d best come and be introduced to Jay-P’ll’s household. Come along—you, too, Dohra.”

    Numbly the girls accompanied the Meagraw and his major-domo.

    Jay-P’ll had a whole building of his own, way off in a far section of the palace grounds, with its own enclosed garden. They entered through the tall garden gate to a view of two young dark-haired, golden-skinned women sitting placidly on the verandah drinking tea while two skinny boys, perhaps eight or nine in C’T’rean years, played an energetic game with bat and ball on the lawn.

    “Ya see?” muttered See. Dohra took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

    The two ladies had risen at the sight of the Meagraw and even the two little boys, though with some mutual pushing and shoving, were managing wobbly bows. As they approached the ladies bowed deeply, half pulling their gauzy veils across their faces.

    “Lady See and Lady Dohra,” said Jay-P’ll, “may I present my two un-bond-partnered daughters? F’tmüyah and K’mlayah.”

    The two young women bowed, smiling, to Dohra and See, and the older one said unaffectedly: “How exciting to meet you both!”

    “Yes, all the ladies are talking about His Serene Highness’s honoured guests, of course!” added the younger. “But Pa-pa, what are you doing home at this hour?”

    “Oh, that’s my doing, Lady K’mlayah,” said the Meagraw. “Encouraging him to neglect his duties, as usual!”

    She laughed, and pulled her veil across her face, and shook her head.

    “Actually, we wanted the ladies to meet you,” said their father. “Come here, boys, and be introduced! My sons: H’rooun and A’lee-Jay. Bow nicely to the ladies. –It isn’t a school day,” he said with a smile to Dohra’s unspoken thought.

    “I see,” she croaked. “–Hi, how are you? Was that bocketball you were playing?”

    “Yeah, only they won’t let us have a bocket in the garden!” said H’rooun with a resentful look at his sisters.

    “No, and funnily enough their oldest sister, Gll’ayeey’wollah, would never let them, either, when she was at home, and in fact, nor will I,” said their father calmly. “There are several bocketball courts at the far side of the guards’ barracks, but using one of those entails bothering to book it.”

    “Yeah, my little brother isn’t much into forethought, either!” said Dohra merrily.

    “Quite. And even H’rooun’s mother, had she lived, would not have wanted a full-scale game of bocketball in the garden,” he noted drily.

    “Pa-pa, it wouldn’t’ve been!” cried A’lee-Jay indignantly. “There’s only two of us!”

    “Oh, for the days when every man could form two teams of bocketball players from his sons alone,” he said sardonically.

    “Yeah, it must’ve been good,” agreed the little boy innocently.

    There were fourteen players to a team: See and Dohra gulped, met each other’s eyes and collapsed in undignified giggles; but it didn’t matter: the major-domo’s daughters were laughing, too.

    After that somehow they all ended up taking tweety tea cosily on the verandah. 

 

    Soon the Meagraw and his major-domo succumbed to the lure of bocketball, even without the bocket, and F’tmüyah explained with a sad smile: “It’s so good to see Pa-pa relaxing. Before our mother died—that was ten years ago, H’rooun was only a few months old—he used to be quite a merry person, but since then… His Serene Highness very kindly gave him a Pleasure Girl: she was A’lee-Jay’s mother, but it didn’t work out: she was from the far north, where it’s very cold, and she hated it here. So Pa-pa gave her a teegfoo—I’m sorry, didn't you understand that? Maybe there isn’t an Intergalactic word. It’s a payment a bit like a daughter’s dowry, I suppose, but you give it to a freed Pleasure Girl. Well, that used to be the custom. Everybody said he was mad, no-one gives teegfoos these days: most men don’t even bother to put them in their wills! But dear Pa-pa wouldn’t have dreamed of letting her go without one.”

    “What about her little boy, though?” asked Dohra cautiously.

    “Well, between you and me, she was a very odd girl. She thought he’d be better off here, because she wanted to go out with the wambo-herders and be a herder, like the men. That’s mostly what they do up there: herd wambo. Maybe you don't have them where you come from? They’re um, four-legged meat-bearing animals. Most of our meat is wambo meat.”

    “Like that stew we had yesterday: you know, See, with the red savoury vegetable, none of us knew what it was, and the Whtyllian blasterberries. It was hot. Hot but good!” amended Dohra with a laugh.

    “Yeah, it was great! I just love hot spicy food!”

    The two Gr’mmeayan girls beamed at her and chorused: “So do we!”

    “Anyway,” said F’tmüyah with a sigh, “since then there’s been no lady in our house.”

    “What about, um, aunties and that?” ventured Dohra, as See was apparently struck dumb.

    “Oh, no, because you see, Grand-pa-pa’s ladies all live with our uncle: Pa-pa wasn’t the oldest brother!” explained K’mlayah. “Aunty Beejeey’wollah came to live with us until Gll’ayeey’wollah was old enough to run the household, but she was glad to go home: the life in the palace compound’s very old-fashioned, of course. It drove her mad that she couldn’t even call a bubble to go to town!”

    “Um, so ordinary ladies can?” croaked Dohra.

    “Of course. One wears a veil, naturally: one doesn’t want to be stared at by men,” explained F’tmüyah. “There’s only us to look after him, now, poor Pa-pa. And I’m engaged to be bond-partnered, so soon he’ll be at the mercy of Guess Who!”

    “Pooh!” cried her plump younger sister. “The culture-pans obey me better than you!”

    “Yes, but S-Jalleyee and S-Jay don’t,” noted her sister pointedly.

    “No, well,” said K’mlayah brightly, “that’s why we need a First Concubine again!”

    They looked hopefully at See.

    “Yes,” she said, swallowing. She looked round wanly at the pretty house and its charming garden. “I don’t think they’d obey me, the pans or the s-beings.”

    “S-Jalleyee can look after the culture-pans, in fact if you told her they were her responsibility she’d be your slave for life,” said F’tmüyah frankly. “But anyway, they would obey you: you’d be First Concubine, there’d be no question!”

    “I get it,” she said, nodding. “Has—has he mentioned the idea, then?”

    “Um, not exactly,” F’tmüyah admitted. “Only he’s been broadcasting for days that he wants it very much. And you and Lady Dohra are, um, both broadcasting that he’s asked you, Lady See.”

    K’mlayah nodded and they both looked at See hopefully.

    “Help,” she muttered. “Um, wouldja like me to, then? Even though I’m not a lady?”

    “Of course we would!” cried F’tmüyah warmly.

    “And we could help you!” cried K’mlayah. “It’s only silly old things like not saying ‘yeah’ or ‘mok shit’ and knowing when to bow, and stuff, anyway!”

    “Y—Um, yes. Shall I tell him okay, then?”

    “Yes!” they both cried. “Huzza!”

    That seemed to be that, then. Major-Domo Jay-P’ll came up onto the verandah with a smile on his thin face and said: “May I formally request you to become my First Concubine, Lady See?”

    And See gasped: “Yes, please!” And burst into tears. 

 

    “That was that!” concluded Dohra some time later, smiling.

    Josh’ryn nodded. “And Jojo really didn't mind?”

    “No. Um, well, I think he’s making poor Major-Domo Jay-P’ll pay a huge price for her, but he agreed, all right. Well, he can see as well as anyone that the Meagraw doesn’t really want any of us. I mean, he’s normal, but you know. Not on a permanent basis. And you’ll never guess what else! One of his uncles has asked for Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All!”

    Josh’ryn was receiving a clear picture of a jolly-looking middle-aged man. “His Serene Highness’s uncle, is this, Dohra?”

    “Yes. He’s a prince, of course: Prince Nuzzreeyyan, only they all call him ‘Uncle Nuzzee’, isn’t that cute?” said Dohra with a laugh. “His First Concubine was a much older lady, she was presented to him as a sort of diplo thing,”—she looked at her dubiously but the concept didn’t seem to strike the bMeemeetee girl as weird, she was nodding calmly—“and she died about three years back. Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All seems to want it, she’s been actually cheerful. Well, he is a royal prince! And he’s such a jolly sort of person himself that if she does have a few sulks I don’t think he’ll mind—or notice, really! He’s got five other concubines but they’re all a lot older than her and kind of retired: they’ve got a lovely little building all to themselves in his palace grounds. There’s actually a word for it,” she revealed in some awe.

    “What?” asked Josh’ryn with interest.

    “A bhrteegfüyeen,” said Dohra carefully.

    “I see,” she said slowly, nodding. “The same root as teegfoo. And ‘bhr’ is the prefix they use to indicate ‘domestic.’”

    “Eh?” replied Dohra weakly.

    “Yes. S-B’llelli’s been telling me a lot about their language. It’s interesting.”

    “Whatever blobs you up!” said Dohra with her cheerful laugh. “And Jojo’s sure that Minister H’rooun yll R’schhheeyd and the Whtyllian Ambassador are both gonna make offers for wondreL: they’re only hanging back because of—um, that proto thing.”

    “Protocol. You’re not making an effort, Dohra,” said the silvery little voice on a severe note.

    “You’re right, there! I can’t wait to get off the dump!” replied Dohra with feeling.

    Josh’ryn sighed a little. “Yes. What about S’draa?”

    “I dunno why you’re so worried about her, she hasn’t asked how you are once.”

    “She doesn’t need to ask, she’s popped in to see me several times. Sort of—pretending she’s only dropped in because there’s nothing better to do!” she said with her little clear laugh. “But I won’t say she feels maternal towards me if you don’t wish me to!”

    “Good: don’t,” returned Dohra drily. “Well, it’s rather funny, actually. There’s a very rich businessman from the town that’s really keen: he spotted her that first night when we were all presented. But as well—Jojo reckons he can read it clear as clear—the New Rthfrdian Ambassador’s about to offer! That putting the hand where she didn’t oughta worked real good after all!” She went off into a gale of giggles, not noticing that Josh’ryn wasn't smiling.

    “But Dohra, he can’t!”

    “Eh?” said Dohra, wiping her eyes. “I assure you he can, that’s why she put—”

    “Not that! New Rthfrdia’s terribly proper: he’d lose his job if he took a concubine!”

    “What? For something like that? Space garbage!” she cried.

    “No, honestly,” said Josh’ryn earnestly. “Look up New Rthfrdia, Ethical System and Morality, on the Encyclopaedia.”

    “Uh—no, I’ll take your word for it. Um, not even if he like, put her in a nice slot and just went to visit her?”

    “I see, that’s that what wealthy bond-partnered men do on your world with their concubines. No, on New Rthfrdia that would compound the transgression. Um, I’m sorry, Dohra: that means make the crime worse.”

    Dohra had just worked that out for herself: she nodded. “I see, because they’d reckon he was trying to hide it. What if he kept her on another world?”

    “It would be easier for the authorities to overlook that, yes, but if it got out the result would be the same. And you see, a man in that position will have enemies. Inevitably, on a world like New Rthfrdia, where they have general adult-being franchise and a party political system of representation, with an upper and lower chamber and a rotating position of—I’m sorry.”

    “No,” said Dohra, going very red. “I’m sorry, Josh'ryn. Um, well, I don’t think I—You meant the government, I got that. But where do the franchises come in?”

    “I beg your pardon?”

    “Well, on C’T’rea Shooey’s Sausages are a franchise. Um, what’s an IG one? Oh, yeah: Whizzo Burgers! Ya must of seen them, Josh’ryn, they’ve got outlets in all the spaceports!”

    “Oh,” she said, getting the picture. “I see, it’s a place to eat. Is that meat? It looks good!”

    “Yeah, and somehow they even make their mato-meat burgers taste good!”

    “I see: they always have those buns. Oh! I see! The being who runs the boutique is the franchisee! No, Dohra: I meant franchise in the political sense. The right to vote.”

    “Ya mean there’s an actual word—There would be. Goddit. Ugh, I see!” she cried. “He’d have enemies in the other party, like what didn’t appoint him, as well as all the ones on his own side that he made when he was on the way up!”

    “Exactly. However keen he might be on S’draa, I really don't think he’d ever manage to keep it quiet. And he’s already got a bond-partner, and they’re only allowed one.”

    “Yeah,” she agreed sadly. “Well, mok shit. It’ll have to be the businessman. But she won’t like having to wear a veil whenever she goes to town. Mind you, they have got a J’rd’s.”

    Josh’ryn had by now heard all about the huge J’rd’s branch in Hinnover City on Belraynia. “That must be wonderful,” she said wistfully. “I would so like to see a big department store.”

 

    “Well, soon as you’re up and about we’ll ask Jojo if we can go! I mean, we’re not actually the Meagraw’s ladies, so why not? And they can go, ya know: but they have to have a curtained bubble, if you can imagine it, and an armed escort, and the manager has to be warned, and all beings have to look at the ground when they get out of the bubble. But the good thing about it is they get free cups of tea!”

    Josh’ryn looked at her beaming smile and didn’t say: “But of course.”

    “The Meagraw gives them as many credits as they want. It must be wonderful being able to point at something and say ‘I’ll have that’—but on the other hand, they’ll never know what it’s like to save up your pay—or pocket-money, of course!—and finally be able to buy something you’ve wanted for ages!”

    “They both sound marvellous to me,” she admitted.

    Dohra bit her lip. That father of Josh’ryn’s was meaner than Gramps, if you could imagine it! “Mm. Well, perhaps the Meagraw’ll like you better than the rest of us.”

    “Dohra, he would take you if you wanted it,” she murmured.

    “Who’d ya get that off?” retorted Dohra crossly. “S-B’llelli? Or his mother, maybe?”

    “Ssh! No, she doesn’t speak about that sort of matter. No, well, S-B’llelli did mention it, but so did Jojo and wondreL.”

    Dohra scowled.

    “I see: being a cook is more independent.”

    “And a half!” said Dohra energetically.

    Josh’ryn sighed a little but only said: “And Qwolla? Any more news?”

    “Nah, it’s protocol,” she said, making a funny face at her.

    Josh’ryn collapsed in giggles but admitted, once she was over them and a bunch of senso-tissues in mixed pastel shades were patting her face: “Of course: His Serene Highness’s brother won’t make an offer until he’s quite sure the Meagraw himself has no interest there. And I think he has, a little?”

    “Um, sort of. Well, all the men do: she’s so pretty, and such a sweet nature, never mind the gilled thing. Well, most of them are turned on by that but some of them aren’t.” Dohra looked sadly at the senso-tissues and a few of them wafted towards her.

    “What is it?” asked Josh’ryn anxiously.

    Dohra’s lower lip wobbled. “It’s stupid. These senso-tissues are a bit like the mixed ones that Chef hoopnD had when I joined Silver-Ash Flyer… I want to go home!” she suddenly wailed, bursting into sobs and burying her face in Josh'ryn’s coverlet.

    Josh’ryn patted her back, while the senso-tissues hovered helpfully. Finally Dohra sat up and grabbed a handful and said soggily: “Silly. Sorry.”

    “No, of course it isn’t silly. You think of the Silver-Ash Flyer as your home, now; I see. Of course you miss it. And the Captain,” she said kindly.

    Dohra’s cheeks turned about the same shade of watermelon pink as the bMeemeetee skin and she gasped: “How did you know that?”

    “I’m so sorry: I didn’t mean to look, I do realise off-world beings consider that rude,” said Josh’ryn in a tiny voice. “It’s there in your mind, quite—quite big.”

    Dohra blew her nose hard. “It’s pointless. And I’m too old to have silly crushes.”

    “One can’t help these things,” she said kindly.

    Dohra sighed. She now knew that Josh’ryn hadn't had a crush on any being since she was about fourteen in C’T’rean years and had fallen hopelessly in love for all of a month with a gardener’s boy, also aged about fourteen. Given that he was watermelon pink with thick, straight white hair, he looked just like all of Josh’ryn’s pictures of the bMeemeetee males—but then, whatever blobbed you up. There was no particular reason, of course, for the crush to have ended. And immediately before that it had been a very much older man with a long moustache, a Minister or some such. No, well, everyone had them while they were growing up. Only that was the point: she, Dohra, was grown up now, and it was about time they wore off!

    Josh’ryn patted her hand very sympathetically and said nothing.

    Eventually Dohra said glumly: “Hally Kally hates it here. She’s scared all the time.”

    “Yes, I know. I think Lady M’ffarbell would give her a translator if His Serene Highness took her, Dohra.”

    “Gee, big deal!” She got up. “I better go. Are you sure you’re fit to be presented tomorrow?”

    “Yes. I’m very much stronger, now. I was up all morning!” she reminded her.

    “Yeah. Um,” said Dohra awkwardly, standing on one leg and hooking a foot round the opposite ankle, “he is a nice man. I think you’d like being with him. And if you asked him, I’m sure he’d agree to let your Mimmoo come!” –Josh’ryn’s mother was not the bond-partner, but the concubine of the horrible Ruler of bMeemeetee—that was his title, Ruler. He didn’t have a bond-partner, not because they didn’t have them on bMeemeetee but because he was too shrewd to give any woman that much power over him or the Royal household. Unlike the Gr’mmeayans, they didn’t go in for multiple concubines on bMeemeetee, that was frowned upon, so there was only Josh’ryn’s Mum officially, but unofficially there was a whole wing of the palace full of Pleasure Girls and it was years since he’d bothered to summon her Mum to his bed. Put it like this, the set-up on Gr’mmeaya didn’t surprise or shock Josh’ryn and the Meagraw himself could only come as a pleasant surprise! Only would he want her? She was a lovely-natured girl, and once you got used to the pink, very, very pretty—and Dohra now knew that under the dressing-gowns she had a nice little figure; but the Meagraw, of course, was accustomed to ladies that dressed so as to reveal their figures, not to hide them about as much as was possible within the laws of the Known Universe!

    Her lovely powdery white blush swept over Josh’ryn’s cheeks. –It was natural, but as well bMeemeetee ladies used a white blusher to accentuate the effect: they weren’t entirely primmo. “I couldn’t wear those clothes,” she said in a tiny, tiny voice.

    “No, of course not!” cried Dohra quickly.

    “No.” She bit her lip and admitted: “If His Serene Highness does want me, I think I could be happy here—but if I wanted Mimmoo to come, Father would insist he pay.”

    “Make your bond-partner pay to—?” Dohra broke off with a gulp.

    “I see. I did think it might be an unusual request on other worlds, too,” she admitted sadly.

    “No! I’m sure the Meagraw’d agree! He’s a lovely person!” cried Dohra quickly.

    “Yes, but Dohra, it wouldn’t be—”

    “Don’t dare to breathe the word ‘protocol’!” she cried.

    Josh’ryn had been going to say “etiquette.” She tried to smile, and didn’t correct her.

    “I better go,” said Dohra again as S-B’llelli came in and gave her an anxious look. “You gotta have your afternoon rest. See ya!”

    “See ya, Dohra,” replied the clear little voice carefully.

    That evening both the rich businessman from the town and the New Rthfrdian Ambassador made offers for S’draa, the latter, apparently, assuring Jojo that he was due to retire and intended to settle on Playfair Two—so that got over the problems Josh’ryn had spotted. Only thing was, the rich Gr’mmeayan was offering more. 

 

    “Which do you like best, S’draa?” asked Dohra anxiously.

    She shrugged. “They’re both okay. Both a bit fat. But I’d rather not stay on this primmo dump. I shouldn’t of signed the lorpoid’s plasmo-blasted agreement, should I?”

    “A’ashurbanneey-P’ll Roggeewayne could show you a better time than that stiff-necked Ambassador Schm’t!” urged Panna.

    S’draa gave her a dry look. “Ya think? It isn’t only his neck, ya know!”

    Panna gulped, clapped a hand to her mouth and collapsed in agonising giggles, nodding frantically.

    “Yeah,” said S’draa with a certain satisfaction. “And them quiet ones, they’re often the hottest underneath.”

    “Oh, yes: they repress it, you see, so when they finally give way it’s really something,” agreed Qwolla with her usual calm, smiling composure.

    “Yeah. Your major-domo’s a bit the same sort,” said S’draa, giving See a mocking but not unkindly look.

    See was in a happy dream: Major-Domo Jay-P’ll was planning an actual First Concubine Induction Ceremony for her! “Mm? Yeah, I know—I mean, yes, I know. He’s promised to get me off the chemo-blobs and he’s given me this lovely all-natural sniffer instead!”

    The Gr’mmeayan sniffers contained some sort of ground-up herb, so when you thought about it, were they entirely different from the Oononian chemo-blobs? Because lots of them were made with ground-up herbs and plants, not just grown on Oononia but imported from all over the Known Universe. But perhaps no-one had thought about it but Dohra, because they were all nodding and agreeing, even Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All. Well, chemo-blob addiction, not to say snuhl or, horrors, klupf addiction were subjects rather close to most Pleasure Girls’ hearts. So Dohra just nodded, too.

    “Okay, the Ambassador might be hot stuff, only A’ashurbanneey-P’ll Roggeewayne’s a real hot-eyed type,” noted Panna enviously. “Like, you know, gives you a look and ya know straight away he knows all about it and ya can’t help getting all hot and wet right off.”

    “Depends on how used you are to the type, Panna,” said S’draa tolerantly. “But if you’re that keen, maybe he’d take you instead. Jojo? Oy, Jojo!”

    The lorpoid came out of his abstraction with a jump. “What? No! They’re a pair!” he said crossly.

    “Look, the girl gets wet for him, what more can he ask?” demanded S’draa impatiently. “How many Pleasure Girls can do that without even trying?”

    “I can,” reported Qwolla.

    “You! Most of the time ya wet all over, dear, can it count?”

    “They close it off when they’re swimming,” remembered Dohra, blushing brightly.

    “Don’t pretend you’re with-it, C’T’rean,” said S’draa heavily. “And as for turning it on for a man—! Well, yeah, if he was turquoise,” she noted pointedly, “you’d be top of the list!”

    “That’s mean, she can’t help it!” said Qwolla indignantly, quickly taking Dohra’s hand.

    “I duh-don’t!” she stuttered.

    “No, no, only for the one being,” she said soothingly. “Mmm, he looks really nice!”

    “Well, that’s two of them that go for something on the blue side—and I guess we can count it as three,” noted S’draa at her driest, glancing at Hally Kally, who was sitting on the floor innocently playing with a set of toy blocks that one of the Meagraw’s ladies had given her. “Maybe ya shoulda checked them out more before you added them to the group, Jojo. Listen, can ya get the Ambassador to outbid ole A’ashurbanneey-P’ll Roggeewayne?”

    “I’ll try, if you want him, polly-lolly.”

    “He would of tried anyway!” said Janna on a scornful note.

    “Not necessarily,” said the lorpoid with dignity. “It’s a really good price.”

    “Maybe W’lli could go higher.” S’draa grimaced. “Not and afford that place he’s planning on Playfair Two, plus and the mok-face’s alimony, though. –The bond-partner. He can’t get out of that: even if he doesn’t get an IG-legal divorce New Rthfrdian world law’ll clobber him.”

    “Is that Ambassador Schm’t’s name?” said Qwolla sympathetically. “How pretty!”

    “W’lli? It’s real common on New Rthfrdia,” said S’draa on a weak note. “Well, there’s some nice places on Playfair One, and I suppose he could find somewhere where we wouldn’t be pestered by tourists. Um, those island resorts are okay.”

    “Ooh, like on Novatroonia!” cried Dohra, recovering from her double embarrassment. “Why not go there? You could have a boat and everything!”

    “Five hundred IG glps to the nearest town, and not even a J’rd’s? Ya gotta be joking!”

    Dohra’s face fell. “Oh. I just thought it sounded lovely from what Bates, Andi said.”

    “There is a J’rd’s. Only the one, but it’s a big underwater one. Not like ours, though: it’s in an air dome,” revealed Qwolla. “It’s really huge: absolutely galaxious, S’draa! Two hundred different restaurants! It’s like a whole underwater city!”

    “Yeah: Bates, Andi reckons Bates, W’ndii run up a huge debt on their credit-blob there, once,” admitted Dohra.

    “Can’t be all bad, then!” conceded wondreL with a loud laugh.

    “Um, but all that water… Well, it’s an idea,” admitted S’draa.

    “I think I’d go for Playfair One,” decided Panna.

    “Yeah, plus and for A’ashurbanneey-P’ll Roggeewayne,” she agreed drily.

    Jojo’s round lorpoid eyes narrowed slightly. “I could push the Ambassador’s price up and once he’d outbid him, then I could suggest that A’ashurbanneey-P’ll Roggeewayne might like to take both the twins!”

    At this wondreL got up with a disgusted look on her pale lime face. “That’s commerce for ya. I’m for bed. ’Night!” And she stalked out.

    “That is commerce,” said Dohra seriously. “You have to be sensible about these things. And Roggeewayne, A’ashurbanneey-P’ll—sorry, I mean A’ashurbanneey-P’ll Roggeewayne, I can’t get used to these off-world names—he can certainly afford them! And the alternative is to only make one sale, Jojo, because if you sell S’draa to someone else, the Ambassador isn’t gonna want to take any of the rest of us, is he?”

    “You’re right! I’ll do it!”

    Much later that night S’draa came quietly into Dohra’s and Hally Kally’s room. “Thanks,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed as the light-blobs slowly came on.

    Dohra blinked sleepily at her. “Me? I’m just glad it worked out, S’draa. Actually, when I thought about it, I was afraid Jojo might push the price up too high for him.”

    “Yeah: me, too. I thought”—the well-modelled lips shook just fractionally—“I thought that if it came down to a choice between me and the plasmo-blasted mansion on Playfair Two that W’lli’s been planning for years, I’d be down the moogletubes.” 

 

    “Down the—Oh! I see. No, of course he wouldn’t do that! Any being could see he really, really wanted you!”

    S’draa sighed a little. “Kid, when a man gets to that age that isn’t all that counts. He starts thinking about his comfort and what other beings might think—Never mind, he didn’t!” she said with a shaky laugh.

    “No,” agreed Dohra, putting a hand over hers. “I’m really glad, S’draa!”

    “Yeah, me too,” she admitted wryly. “He’s so pale!” she confided suddenly.

    “Um, yeah. New Rthfrdian.”

    “Yeah. Their pricks—Never mind,” she said quickly. “Didn’t mean to say that.”

    “Pinkish?” discerned Dohra feebly. “Yes, Hally Kally it is, and never mind, she didn’t mean to send,” she said soothingly as Hally Kally made a startled mewing noise and shrank against her. “I see, you like that,” she said valiantly to S’draa.

    “A fat one, nice and pale—pinkish, yeah,” she agreed with a deep sigh. “He’s the type that can’t get enough of it—and old enough to know how to pace himself. Uh—sorry, kid, ya don’t know what I’m talking about. But one of these days, ya will!” She got up. “Anyway, just wanted to say thanks for giving the lorpoid a push.”

    “That’s all right,” said Dohra sleepily. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

    “Yeah,” she admitted, smiling. “Nighty-night! Nighty-night, Bluey!”

    “Nighty-night, S’draa,” agreed Dohra, and: “Garble, garble,” agreed Hally Kally.

    “See?” said Dohra complacently to Hally Kally as the light-blobs slowly dimmed again. “I knew he was the one she wanted!”

    “Do we haveta go through this?” groaned wondreL the next morning, as, having got them all lined up in appropriate order in a huge reception room, Jojo then proceeded to march up and down inspecting them.

    “The Whtyllian Ambassador will be here!” replied Dohra with a laugh.

    “If that plasmo-blasted Whtyllian imagines he can make me breed for him he’s got another imagine coming!” she growled. “He keeps sending me rude pictures; if we were on Nblyteria I’d whip his scrawny hide for him, all right!”

    “Uh—yeah. Ooh, help, you mean he thinks he’d like it?” she gasped. "Um, is there anyone you prefer, wondreL?”

    The Nblyterian girl made a face. Then she admitted: “Prince Nuhray’n, actually.”

    “The Meagraw’s youngest brother? He’s very good-looking,” conceded Dohra.

    “And not old,” she said sourly.

    “All the rich ones do seem to be old. Well, if he's a prince he must be able to afford Jojo’s prices, wouldn’t you think?”

    “Maybe.”

    “Um, if he did take you, would you want to stay on?”

    “Dunno. Don’t think so,” she growled.

    “No,” agreed Dohra sympathetically. “I’m homesick, too.”

    “Look, it’s no use talking about it, humanoid!” she said crossly. “You got ya profession, but I haven’t!”

    “But—” Dohra broke off. If only she could get wondreL to C’T’rea maybe the wonderful Shohn could blob up some fake ID for her! …Only she didn’t have enough money: there were J’nno’s Third School fees to save up for, and she’d promised him a holiday.

    “What?” she said vaguely as Jojo bustled up with some remark about her curls. “I told the hygiene cabinet what you said. –Okay, maybe it has stopped listening to me. Stop fussing. It’s not me the Meagraw’s inspecting this morning, it’s poor Josh’ryn.”

    “Don’t call her poor!” he said crossly. “The Meagraw can work that one out for himself, thank you very much, polly-lolly!”

    “Thought Josh’ryn was a princess?” said wondreL blankly as he bustled off.

    “A princess whose father’s selling her,” replied Dohra grimly.

    “Oh, mok shit, I geddit.” After a moment she nudged Dohra’s side. “Hey, we’re better off than some, eh?”

    “We certainly are!” agreed Dohra with feeling.

    “What’s the lorpoid up to now?’ groaned wondreL as he began to rush up and down distributing something-or-other.

    “Dunno.” They peered.

    Jojo panted up to them. “Keep in line! And suck that tummy in, Dohra!”

    “Thought Gr’mmeayans liked tummies?” replied Dohra tolerantly. “What are you doing?”

    “All the promised ones have to wear veils!” he panted. “There’ll be strange men here!”

    “Some very strange!” yelped wondreL. She fell about whooping. Dohra gave a shriek and also fell about whooping. Hally Kally fell about sympathetically.

    “Polly-lollies! Stop it! You’re getting silly! Stop it! Get back into line!” whistled the lorpoid crossly.

    At last Dohra, wondreL and Hally Kally were again in line—not veiled, they weren’t promised, so least they could see. Not that the veils weren’t very pretty: spangled zpandria cloth, if you please—but really! Primmo and a half! 

 

    “Here come the palace ladies,” noted Dohra as lines of veiled objects filed in and took their places in a set of stalls or something opposite. “Hey, they’re sitting down: why can’t we?”

    WondreL nudged her. “Protocol!” They collapsed in fits again. Hally Kally collapsed in sympathy again. Jojo shot back. “Polly-lollies! Stop it! This isn’t the occasion! Polly-lollies!”

    At last Dohra, wondreL and Hally Kally were again in line and wearing faces suited to the occasion. They watched without much interest as the little band came in, took up its places in a sort of, um, cabin? Pod?—Whatever—and began to play.

     “I’m starting to think even Gall’ay’an pop’d sound good,” muttered wondreL.

    “Yep.”

    They watched without much interest as a huge crowd of elaborately garbed gentlemen then entered.

    “Here’s Fatty,” noted wondreL as a certain personality was seen to take his place, looking super-important in a sweeping Gr’mmeayan cloak of purple embroidered with pink and gold.

    “Uh-huh. –Face-Fungus,” noted Dohra as another Gr’mmeayan personality took his place, looking impossibly virtuous—unlike the picture he was sending.

    “Yep. –Squinty!” discerned the Nblyterian, as a middle-aged man with an unfortunate facial expression and a vivid imagination elbowed his way past a dozen lesser personages and sat down in the front row.

    “Uh-huh. Hey, that red turban’s—”

    “Ssh!” hissed Jojo angrily.

    –hideous, finished Dohra.

    Like the rest of him! discovered wondreL in amazement.

    They began to shake…

    Polly-lollies were behaving so badly that they were about to spoil Josh'ryn’s presentation! But actually it didn’t matter at all, in fact they were soon to realise that none of it mattered.

    The little band finished its piece and played a blast on one of the instruments as a tall, heavily veiled lady—presumably the Meagraw’s mother, only who could tell past the veil—took her place at the front of the palace ladies’ stalls or whatever. Then with several more blasts, the Meagraw’s uncles and brothers filed in and took their places at the front of the room on either side of the gold chair that was stuck up there looking plasmo-blasted silly on a hunk of pink Porvenian marble.

    Then there was a huge blast from the band and the Meagraw himself came in, looking just like usual, smiling amiably and nodding, but wearing an incredibly silly, in fact plasma-humungously silly thing on his head. Basically a turban but encrusted with jewelled pins and strings of other jewels and silly feathers and space junk—

    ’Nother silly hat, noted wondreL.

    Uh-huh.

    The Meagraw sat down. The band played for a bit. S-beings waved huge fans…

    Hey, wondreL, ’ve you ever noticed that squatting-chicken tail feathers don't dye good? sent Dohra dreamily.

    Be because they’re from the males—useless! she replied brilliantly.

    They shook silently…

    Ooh! The little band had done a sort of BLAAH! And the ladies and gentlemen of the Gr’mmeayan court stopped whispering together, the big doors at the far end of the room swung open, and Major-Domo Jay-P’ll, bowing until his nose just about touched the knees of those silly draped pants—black scintillion today—announced: “Your Serene Highness! Your Highnesses! Noble Ambassadors! Ladies and gentlemen! It is my honour to present to Your Serene Highness’s notice the Princess Josh’ryn oog pMeemeetee of the planet bMeemeetee!”

    And Josh’ryn came in all by herself, looking very composed. She was in the layers of garments she’d worn for the journey—of course freshened up by the palace’s recyclers—with the gold thing with the coloured stones on the head.

    The Meagraw got up. There was a surprised rustling from the assembled courtiers and then all the Gr’mmeayans got up, too. Then he came down the pink marble steps of the thing his chair was on. More rustling from the Gr’mmeayans. He walked right up to Josh’ryn, his face very pale—not attractively pale, more like that time J’nno had had yellow keequeenax, fortunately there was a good chemo-blob for it—and knelt down in front of her. The courtiers and so forth, never mind diplo manners, all gasped.

    “Welcome to Gr’mmeaya, Princess Josh’ryn,” he said in a voice that shook.

    Then there was a little pause. The gentlemen of the court could be seen exchanging glances: was he supposed to say more than that?

    Then Josh’ryn’s clear little voice said, calm as anything: “Thank you, Meagraw Nh’rran-Jay. It is a great pleasure to be here. May I compliment Your Serene Highness on your beautiful world?”

    “Thank you,” he said, very, very faintly, still kneeling.

    Blow me out beyond the last black hole! invited wondreL groggily. I’d say that’s It, wouldn’t you?

    Yes, I think so. Only does she want him? replied Dohra shakily.

    As it turned out, she did. In fact she had fallen for the Meagraw as heavily as he had fallen for her: she couldn’t stop smiling! Jojo owned, mopping his forehead, when the fuss and kerfuffle had died down and five megazillion official envoys had retreated from the pretty little guest-house at last, leaving Josh’ryn’s room piled high with trifles of giant bouquets of Phang-Phangian senso-orchids, statuettes of solid gold, solid silver, or blue or black glass, dishes piled with the choicest of sweetmeats, and a timepiece that wasn’t a chrono-blob but a curious mechanism with two little figures that came out of a tiny cabin and squeaked the time—mewed it, according to Jojo, his claim being that they were supposed to represent Whtyllian cats and it was an astounding piece of craftsmanship—that he’d never been so relieved in his life, polly-lollies!

    “Relieved? Astonished, more like!” retorted wondreL. “I mean, to be his bond-partner?”

    “Yes, they haven’t had a Meagrawaine for hundreds of IG years!” beamed Dohra. “But she’ll be perfect: she knows all that political stuff backwards!”

    “Uh—well, she is unusual,” he admitted.

    “It sure is unusual to be a virgin these days,” agreed S’draa. “And his mother actually approves, that’s what I can’t get over!”

    None of the others could, either. But it was all true: M’ffarbell was very pleased, and Josh’ryn’s own mother was sent for immediately—one of the palace’s lifters took off for bMeemeetee with young Lieutenant Seullim’n in charge of it—and plans began for a huge Royal Wedding! 

 

    But before the Royal Wedding there were several other galaxious celebrations to be enjoyed. When the Gr’mmeayans put on a party, they really put on a party! First came the First Concubine Induction Ceremony for Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All and the jolly “Uncle Nuzzee”—Prince Nuzzreeyyan. The Meagraw graciously offered one of his own palace gardens for the event, and every member of his own household and, it seemed to the girls, not only his uncle’s, but both his brothers’ as well was there. Aunties by the score—right! None of them bothering very much at all, especially as that oily-looking dark green stuff circulated in large decanters of best Willunian crystal, to keep their gauzy zpandria-cloth veils pulled over their faces.

    As for the food—! Well, “Uncle Nuzzee” was a known gourmet, so it was bound to be good, but it wasn't just that: every aunty and great-aunty and step-aunty seemed to have got her own special culture-pan to culture up her very special dish for the occasion! Mostly very much in the Gr’mmeayan style of nibbles: hundreds of pretty painted and gilded plates of every imaginable pattern filled with zillions of quaintly-shaped, delicious little savouries and sweet pastries and puffs and curls and crescents and sugary this, that, and the other, topped with toasted Whtyllian almonds or loober seeds or best pungo sugar—Dohra had never even seen that before: even the Captain didn’t order that up for his special guests—and to top it all off, the very, very old Aunty Mullah-wee presented “the concubine’s dish” in person to Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All: the most perfect pink and gold plate filled with exquisite tiny pastel sugar cakes, all in the shape of little flowers!

    And when the beaming Uncle Nuzzee lifted the gauzy zpandria-cloth veil for the first and last time in public—well, that was the official version, of course—the proud, sulky Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All had tears in her big dark eyes! Well!

    Jojo had a stomach-ache after this event but on the whole, no-one was surprised.

    See’s First Concubine Induction Ceremony was, according to Josh’ryn, in much better taste. To Dohra’s mind it wasn’t such fun, but then, she already knew that she, Dohra, didn't have much taste. See wore dark cherry-red, a gown very like the one in which the Major-Domo had first seen her, but this time not featuring a great big slit at the front. And not outlining those perky little breasts nearly so explicitly. Her veil was gold zpandria-cloth, not spangled or anything like that, in marked contrast to the one Murrandr’a Kapaldi-L’All had worn, and Dohra silently conceded that Josh’ryn was right and that that was tasteful.

    Her attendants, who had to be un-bond-partnered girls, consisted of Dohra, wondreL, Hally Kally and Qwolla—the twins and S’draa now being out of the running, having taken up residence happily with their new masters, and Princess Josh’ryn not being permitted for reasons of protocol. Plus—whether or not it was the custom was not absolutely clear—her soon-to-be-master’s two un-bond-partnered daughters. As was traditional they all wore Gr'mmeayan dress: white mn-mn silk tunics embroidered with flowers over narrow pants in a selection of pastel shades, and gauzy white veils concealing the faces. Even wondreL: she admitted afterwards that it had been a very strange experience.

    The ceremony was again held in a garden, but this time the garden of Jay-P’ll’s own house, most beautifully decked with flower garlands and tiny glowing lumo-blobs.

    “You know what the best bit was?” said Dohra thoughtfully to wondreL that evening.

    “Those little salty savouries with the ground-up meat and loober seeds, never had loober seeds with meat before, they were extra.”

    “No—though they were, weren’t they? I’m gonna give that recipe a go! No, not anything to eat. I think the best thing,” said Dohra, smiling very much; “was those two dear little boys of Major Domo Jay-P’ll’s dressed in their best baggy pants and little tight jackets!”

    WondreL looked at her pink, beaming face and merely said tolerantly: “Yeah. Cute, huh?”

    His Highness Prince Ah’k’bar had made a formal—and very generous—offer for Qwolla, and his younger brother, the Prince Nuhray’n, had made a ditto for wondreL—and no-one but Josh’ryn, her fiancé and Dohra herself knew that this latter was because Dohra had dropped a hint to Josh’ryn—and so the next event was the joint First Concubine Induction Ceremony for them. Both in white mn-mn silk Gr’mmeayan costume, Qwolla with a silvery zpandria-cloth veil and wondreL with a pale lime one that matched her crest and skin. And Hally Kally and Dohra again as attendants, this time Dohra in pale blue and Hally Kally in dark blue and silver. First Concubine See herself came to adjust their veils and slip some Phang-Phangian senso-orchids into the silver circlets holding them on their heads.

    Since the Meagraw’s own brothers were involved, this party was a lot more formal, taking place in one of the big reception rooms—a white one, the being that chose it must have had tact, those pink and apricot shades favoured by the Gr’mmeayans would have looked awful with Qwolla’s bluish tones and wondreL’s lime green.

    “Qwolla’s okay,” said Dohra with a sigh to Hally Kally that night after the light-blobs were out. “But I just hope wondreL will be happy. He does seem a nice young man.”

    “Garble, garble,” said Hally Kally anxiously, taking her hand.

    Dohra could feel she was emanating reassurance. She smiled, and fell asleep feeling comforted, her hand in the friymanoid’s.

    Jojo of course was very, very pleased with himself, even though he hadn't managed to get quite all of them off his hands. So Dohra and Hally Kally were offered new dresses at his expense for the Royal Wedding of His Serene Highness and Princess Josh’ryn. But they didn’t need to accept, because their outfits were to be provided. As soon as the train of s-beings arrived with them, the lorpoid got them into the garments and inspected them.

    “Garble, garble,” said Hally Kally anxiously, plucking at the skirt of her tunic.

    “Puts it well,” agreed Dohra.

    Jojo examined the gold and silver embroidery—well, the encrustations—on the stiff white brocade garments, and produced weakly: “All done by the actual appendages of s-beings, I'd say: not a blob’s come near them. Superb craftsmanship, of course.”

    “Jojo, they weigh an IG ton!” objected Dohra.

    “Y—Uh, well, tradition, polly-lolly, tradition!”

    Right. If that was what tradition dictated for the mere attendants of the Meagrawaine-to-be, what in Federation was poor Josh’ryn going to have to wear? 

 

    They soon saw. There were several parts to it. She could walk in the pants, they were only encrusted to the knee. The tunic was the standard Gr’mmeayan design, apart from the small point that it was so encrusted on what was a very thick material to start with that it could stand up without benefit of Josh’ryn. Once it was on they discovered she couldn’t bend her arms in the long sleeves for the encrustations. The third garment was a short sleeveless jacket that went over the tunic: it had encrustations on its encrustations, some of them being—uh—stuffed? The veil was gauzy zpandria-cloth, weighed down round the edges with, gee, encrustations. Well, at least it wouldn’t drift away. Oh, no, it couldn’t have, anyway, because there was this crown that she had to wear on her head. Yep, before she was actually bond-partnered to him. The embroidery was mostly done in gold thread with a bit of silver, and possibly if the fabric had been white silk the effect might have verged on acceptable—but it wasn’t. A deep glowing, fruity purple, was what it was. All of it, even the veil. Gee, purple was traditional for Meagrawaines-elect on their bond-partnering day, what being could’ve guessed that! Someone with S’draa’s chiselled features and black skin might have got away with it—just. But against Josh'ryn’s watermelon pink?

    “Don't say it,” said Josh’ryn feebly.

    “I wouldn’t dare!” replied Dohra with feeling.

    They looked weakly at each other. Josh’ryn’s lips twitched, Dohra gulped, and they both burst out laughing.

    Dohra sank down on Josh’ryn’s immense white bed, allowing Josh’ryn’s tasteful blue-and-white patterned senso-tissues to mop her eyes. “How heavy is that crown thing?”

    ‘They call it a coronet.”

    “Do they?” she responded cordially.

    “Fifty IG tons,” Josh’ryn admitted, grinning.

    They collapsed in gales of laughter again.

    Josh'ryn then got into it. It was so awful that Dohra couldn't utter, let alone laugh.

    “The last Meagrawaine wore it all,” said S-B’llelli glumly, kneeling at Josh'ryn’s feet with a blob. “It is dreadful, isn't it? There’s a cloak, too: it’s gone to the embroiderers: it has to have Her Highness’s initials—”

    “Yeah, yeah.” Dohra sat limply on the bed while S-B’llelli removed the frightful purple gear, herself, and her blob with the alterations carefully recorded in it. “Wonder if there’s a special hideous outfit a Meagrawaine has to wear for the heir’s naming-day?”

    Josh’ryn replied with smile: “Bound to be!” but to Dohra’s astonishment directed a cautious look at Hally Kally.

    “What? She’s safe: the only person that seems to be able to talk to her is your fiancé’s moth—Oh, mok shit.”

    “Mm. Hally Kally, please take this to Jojo. Jo-jo,” she said carefully, handing her a small box, nodding and smiling and pointing at the door.

    “Jojo, garble, garble!” agreed Hally Kally brightly. She went over to the door. “Jojo.”

    “That’s right: Jojo! Thank you, Hally Kally!” smiled Josh'ryn, and the friymanoid went out.

    Josh’ryn sat down slowly on the huge white bed beside Dohra. “It’s nothing like that: I’m looking forward to being his bond-partner,” she said mildly.

    Dohra sagged. Thank the Federation! Because there was no way they’d call it all off now. “What, then?”

    “My dear Nh’rran-Jay,” said Josh’ryn, the white powdery blush sweeping over her cheeks, “has offered me the traditional gift of the sovereign to his affianced bond-partner.”

    “Mm?” she said cautiously.

    Josh'ryn’s very bright blue eyes twinkled gently. “It’s—well, I don't know what kinds of old stories you have on C’T’rea, but on bMeemeetee we have lots of stories where a magical being grants the heroine or hero a wish.”

    “Sure: we’ve got J’nno And The Magic Jeffer Crab, and Ashy B’tty Finds Her Prince, and Silly Soozi’s Three Wishes—there’s lots of them. Oh! Asteroids of Hhum! Has he? –Not counting your Mum coming over?”

    “No, of course not: he wants me to have Mimmoo here in any case.”

    “Gee, so what are you gonna wish for? Or is it a secret?”

    “No, no, it’s nothing like Koshee And The kPoo Tree!” she said with a laugh.

    “And no mean ole jeffer crab’ll come and take the wish away again, I sincerely trust?” replied Dohra, grinning.

    “No!” she choked. “Oh, dear, we must try to be serious!”

    “Hard to, when you’ve just been offered anything in the Known Universe,” recognised Dohra drily.

    “Mm. Um—could I just ask, if you were in my place, what would you wish for, Dohra?”

    Dohra frowned over it. Finally she said: “He wouldn’t like it, and his Mother sure as Federation wouldn’t like it, but to tell you the truth, I’d ask to have all the palace’s s-beings and Pleasure Girls and concubines freed. With those teeg things, of course.”

    “Teegfoos. Good,” she said serenely.

    Dohra gaped at her. “Josh’ryn, you won’t? His mother’ll go mega-ballistic!”

    “Go—Oh, I see, how very colourful! Well, I shan’t go so far as to ask that the s-beings be freed; I don't think Gr’mmeaya is quite ready for that, yet. But certainly the concubines and the Pleasure Girls. They may not wish to leave: after all, many of them have lived here all their lives, and of course if they wish to stay they must. But I want them to be free to do as they please,” she said with a little frown.

    “Mm,” agreed Dohra, looking at her in awe. “Will he?”

    “Of course. And his mother may be displeased, but on the other hand, his becoming bond-partnered virtually secures the succession to her line, so the loss of a few concubines and Pleasure Girls won’t mean very much.”—Dohra was goggling at her.—“Just think about it: they have nothing in common. Only Lleeayssnillia has any true intellectual ability, and Lady M’ffarbell dislikes her because of her race.”

    Dohra gulped. “Yeah. And the turquoise.”

    “That is part of it, yes.”

    “So—uh—you think she’ll come at it?”

    “Yes. And I think she’ll be relieved that it wasn’t something far more revolutionary,” she said, sending for a servo-mech. Tweety tea, golpee-mwullees with loober seeds, and please fetch the Lady Lleeayssnillia.

    “Golpee-mwullees?” echoed Dohra limply. These were the savouries that she and wondreL had so much enjoyed at Uncle Nuzzee’s feast, and she now knew they were a great delicacy, only made for very special occasions.

    “I am the Meagrawaine-elect, after all,” said Josh’ryn with huge composure.

     Their eyes met, and they collapsed in gales of helpless giggles.

    “When my Mimmoo was expecting the heir for Father,” said Josh'ryn with considerable relish, “she could fancy nothing but Whtyllian cows’ milk, white Whtyllian wheat bread, golden mashy-apple jam, and the occasional grilled e’kmpommee steak with fried boo-bird eggs.” 

 

    “Uh—you said you didn't have boo-birds on bMeemeetee!”

    “No, quite,” she said primly.

    They both collapsed in giggles again.

    “Well, Father was so mean, it was obvious to poor Mimmoo that she’d better exercise her power while she could! And I do like golpee-mwullees!”

    “Yes, but even more, she likes rubbing the First Concubine-Dowager’s Whtyllian nose in it!”’ said a musical voice from the doorway, and Lleeayssnillia came in, smiling. “Hullo, Dohra. –She doesn’t dare to countermand any of Josh’ryn’s orders, but it’s playing havoc with that rigid Whtyllian régime she’s imposed on the kitchens!”

    “Help,” said Dohra faintly.

    “The cooks and the culture-pans really like being asked to produce something special,” said Josh’ryn tranquilly, “but her Ladyship is the sort of being who can’t understand that. –Don’t look so worried, Dohra: the Meagraw’s mother goes to live in a special palace at the other side of the town once he’s bond-partnered.”

    “What a great idea!” she croaked.

    “Yes. It’s a beautiful little palace, but not in entirely good repair, so we’re having it completely refurbished. –Ah, tea,” she said as a train of s-beings and servo-mechs brought it in. “Thank you; we’ll serve ourselves.” –Wait, she warned as they filed out.

    After a moment Lleeayssnillia said: “Oh, dear, how sad. Servo-mech A57’s blob has somehow become quite blobbed-out,” and Dohra collapsed in splutters.

    “Yes, hah, hah,” said Josh’ryn with grim glee. “Well, goodness, one expects the s-beings to be set to spy on one, but really! Using the servo-mechs?”

    “And expecting one not to notice,” agreed Lleeayssnillia, looking down her beautiful Friyrian nose.

    “Y—Oh, help!” gasped Dohra as it all came back to her again.

    “Good gracious, my dear Dohra, a Whtyllian clerk’s daughter doesn’t have a thing on a bMeemeetee princess!” said Lleeayssnillia with horrible lightness, and Dohra collapsed in those splutters again.

    “It’s driving her to Mullgon’ya,” confirmed Josh'ryn calmly. “No, well, of course I don't pry; I merely check to see—well, you know.”

    “Yeah: how much she's spying on ya,” agreed Dohra. “So, have you told her it all, Lleeayssnillia?” she asked eagerly.

    “Yes. She thinks Ccrain’s plan is just as silly as I do.”

    Dohra had thought she might; nevertheless her face fell.

    “No, Dohra, you don't get the point!” said Lleeayssnillia gaily. “When Josh’ryn asks His Serene Highness to grant us all our freedom, I shall go home!” 

 

    Dohra’s mouth sagged open and for quite some time she didn’t say anything at all.

    Josh’ryn poured tweety tea, looking quite calm. Dohra ate and drank automatically. Eventually her brain seemed to get back into more or less working order and she croaked: “Was it all your idea, Lleeayssnillia?”

    “No, no! I rather think it was mostly yours, Dohra, combined with Josh’ryn’s extensive reading!” she said gaily.

    “She’s only just asked me what I think,” objected Dohra.

    “Yes, but you have been broadcasting your opinion of Gr’mmeayan customs ever since we got here,” said Josh’ryn mildly. “No, earlier than that: ever since Jojo put the bracelets on us for the trip. It wasn't couched so bluntly, but it was even more scathing than wondreL’s!”

    Smiling weakly, Dohra finished her cup of tweety tea and set the cup down with a sigh. “I can’t believe that you’re gonna get away so easily, after all, Lleeayssnillia!”

    “No, nor can I,” she said calmly. “But then, I suppose life’s like that. It seldom does the thing you expect, does it?”

   And that was more or less that. Of course the Meagraw consented to his fiancée’s request: well, it was the custom to do so, but then he was so besotted with her that he’d have granted her almost anything.

    In the end most of the older ladies chose to stay—they were, of course, more or less his aunties and many of them could remember no other life. Only a handful went back to their home worlds. Nh’ree-Ann dithered, but the teegfoo settled it and she went back to her father’s house with the promise of being bond-partnered to a distant cousin very soon. Qwolla, Janna and Panna and even See were inclined to sigh sentimentally over this, but he wasn’t a long-lost lover or anything of that sort: nothing like the Romances that the twins still watched slavishly but that the Major-Domo and Prince Ah’k’bar were quietly endeavouring to wean the other two off. To the surprise of several palace personalities the Lady M’llpommeennee took the teegfoo eagerly and headed off home with her baby boy to New Attl’nntya in order to open an up-market garment boutique with another lady. And to the astonishment of most of those who thought they knew her, Aunty Veey’wollah went with her: it sounded so exciting, and she'd never have dreamed she might get a chance to do something like that—and then, dear M’llpommeennee would need someone to keep an eye on her little boy! The two New Rthfrdian ladies dithered: everything was so very different back home, and the practice of concubinage was frowned upon there. But Aunty Maa’rgreet said wistfully that she’d always wanted to travel and that Dohra’s description of Novatroonia sounded wonderful—and they suddenly made up their minds. They’d go there and see what it was like, and if they didn't fancy it they’d move on—why not? But they thought they’d like it: their home village was near a big lake and L’Thea had always had a boat when she was a girl!

    “I thought,” said the Meagraw limply to his fiancée, “that Aunty Maa’rgreet was really happy here.”

    “She was, especially when your father was alive. But that doesn't mean she can’t be happy somewhere else,” said Josh’ryn placidly.

    “No,” he said, smiling. “How very wise you are, my dearest!”

    “Me? I don't think I am at all. And really, you know, I’m not altogether sure I would have been brave enough to ask you for something so outrageous if Dohra hadn’t been so sure it was the right thing to do.”

    The Meagraw laughed and shook his head, and insisted she would. But Josh’ryn didn't think so. Those ladies who were heading off to new lives directly the Royal Wedding was over had a very great deal to thank Third Cook W’t, Dohra B’Jn for.

    And so the bond-partnering of His Serene Highness The Meagraw Nh’rran-Jay Seullim’n Ah’k’bar Mahuirshullulha’ashbash koy Gr’mmeaya and Princess Josh'ryn oog pMeemeetee duly took place, with huge pomp and ceremony and hideous purple gear. And lots of tinkly music, not just the usual little palace band but ranks of musicians with weird instruments and rows of boys singing wailing songs in horribly high voices, and ranks and ranks of veiled ladies sitting in cabins or whatever, only able to see a fraction of what was taking place, and all the diplomatic representatives and what seemed to be the entire Gr’mmeayan army in its best uniforms, and three whole days of feasting for the entire world!

    Jojo gave up and went to bed halfway through the second day, and by that evening Dohra and Hally Kally were very glad to follow his example.

    “Just don't offer me anything more filling than tweety tea for the rest of my life,” groaned Dohra, collapsing onto their bed.

    “No, I won’t!” giggled Hally Kally.

    “It’s working good!” noted Dohra. His Serene Highness had presented Hally Kally with a Grade-A, super-duper maxi-galaxy translator that would translate anything regardless of whether the other being was wearing one. He’d tried to give Dohra a piece of fancy jewellery but she’d admitted it was fifty megazillion to one that some being’d have it off her person while she was in transit, and if he wouldn't mind, could he deposit some igs to J’nno’s education account? Which he had done.

    “Gee, only two more days and then we’ll be off this dump for good,” sighed Dohra, lying flat on her back and gazing at the immensely ornate Gr’mmeayan ceiling.

    “Mm.”

    “The family’ll like you, they’ll be mad if they don't! And you like Lleeayssnillia!” Dohra encouraged her.

    “Ye-es… What if they don't like friymanoids, though?”

    The gossip round the two galaxies being that Friyrians didn’t like anything, much, except other Friyrians, it was hard to produce anything convincing in reply to that. Finally Dohra said: “The Captain’s okay. Maybe you could come on Silver-Ash Flyer!” 

 

    “With you? I’d love that, Dohra! Only… What would I do?” she said in a small voice.

    She didn’t know much except being an s-being, poor little thing. She could speak Friyrian and a bit of a couple of other languages that Dohra had never heard of—according to her the beings that spoke one of them were three-legged but nothing like lorpoids—but she couldn't read in any language and she couldn't write more than her name. Dohra had a strong suspicion that if she did come on the ship her father’d make her do school-lessons. Weakly she said: “Um, well, we got a gym, and a water pool—Qwolla wouldn’t think much of it, mind you—and a couple of fluorogas pools and a whllubbly-gell bath—I mean, there’s lots to do. Lots of sim-lounges, of course. Um, would you like to learn to write?”

    “I don't know,” she said wanly. “Couldn't I come in the galley with you and learn to be a cook?”

    Ulp. Over her father’s turquoise dead body—yeah!

    “Could you ask him?” she added in a small voice, as Dohra didn’t say anything.

    “Me?” she gulped.

    Hally Kally looked at her sadly. “I see. It wouldn't be etiquette.”

    “Etiquette!” said Dohra with a huge snort, suddenly sitting up. “To Blerrinbrig’s with that! ’Course I’ll ask him!”

    “Oh, thank you, Dohra! –Lleeayssnillia says I have to go back to Friyria with her first, though.”

    “Yes, well, there’s no connection to Hinnover City for ages, you don’t want to hang around in transit with me.”

    Hally Kally looked at her wistfully: clearly she did want to. After a moment she said: “It’s a pity you won't be able to see J’nno after all.”

    “Yeah, but he’s okay: Shohn’s Dad’s taken him to the Gallamfic Ocean with his family.”

    “Yes. He sounds like a nice man.”

    “Shohn’s Dad? He’s all right. Well, got no idea of what the boys get up to, and can't even see that Shohn’s so bright he could do a Third School degree in two years, and oughta be applying for the big university on Intergalactica. That’s um, the planet at the centre of the two galaxies, um, where the, um, Council of the Federation has its parliament. Um, where they make the IG laws,” Dohra ended lamely.

    “You know a lot of things, Dohra,” she said wistfully.

    Dohra winced. “No, I’m ignorant, really. Specially compared to someone like Josh’ryn that’s had a proper education and knows all about politics and stuff. Franchise,” she said glumly.

    “What?”

    “Never mind. Ever had a Whizzo Burger?"

    “No, but I’ve seen them! Aren’t they solider than tweety tea?’ she squeaked, collapsing in giggles.

    Dohra threw a pillow at her, which missed, and also collapsed in giggles, and they crawled into bed without bothering to wash and went out like light-blobs. 

 

    “That’s our connection,” said Lleeayssnillia three days later on Pflaumschnau’Provia IV, as boarding for the Friyrian ferry was announced. “Please, Dohra dear, come with us!”

    “No,” said Dohra firmly. “There’s two cook’s assistants in charge of my culture-pans and I shudder to think what they’ve been serving up to the Captain and the passengers.”

    “Ccrain wouldn’t mind if you didn’t go back!”

    “He would. A being doesn’t walk off when they’re supposed to be back on duty: it isn't Regs,” said Dohra grimly.

    “But you said yourself you’ll have the most frightful long time to wait on that horrid moon—”

    “No. I’m going back to Silver-Ash Flyer. Go on, or you’ll miss it.”

    Lleeayssnillia sighed, but kissed her cheek; and Dohra kissed her and baby Ccrain-jee, and gave the tearful Hally Kally a big hug and assured her the family would love her, and firmly waved them off. Then she went off to wait in the sim-lounge for the ferry that would drop her off on the third moon of Pkq-something—well, it was on her ticket—where she’d be able to get a connection to Belraynia and dear old familiar Hinnover City Spaceport. That at one point, like when she’d realised what she was doing and where she was and just what sort of a mother the Meagraw of Gr’mmeaya had, she’d thought she might never see again.