When Chenille Is Not Enough

Susan pressed her fingers against her temples. “How do you know about ice cream, Bozidar?”

“I saw one of your young ones eating it.” He shuddered. “The child dropped it, and began to weep. I thought the adults would lash him for his carelessness, but the older female comforted the miscreant, and suggested buying him another. The younger female protested, to no avail.”

“You lie!” Marsel shrieked. “No intelligent species would have such disregard for precious commodities.”

Susan pressed her palms against her temples and squeezed. “Louise, dear, go to the freezer and get the ice cream.”

Louise nodded, and in a moment rejoined the group in the living room with a carton of butter pecan. She showed it to Bozidar, then brought it close to the screen for Marsel to see. “I think I know who Bozidar saw. It was Helen, with her daughter and grandson. He broke his leg in three places and is just out of a cast. Helen spoiled him rotten before the accident, so you can imagine what it’s like now. Still, Josh is only five, and it was a bad accident.”

Bozidar reached for the ice cream, a look of hunger in his eyes and a small drop of drool at the corner of his mouth. Marsel squealed, and Bozidar’s gaze snapped from the carton to the screen. Pink smoke wafted from his ears, and he retreated to a chair.

Edna forced her lips together, but the smile won out. She giggled, then snorted, then pulled herself to her feet. She trotted to the kitchen, returning with a bowl and spoon. “Give me that,” she said to Louise. She put the bowl on the coffee table, opened the ice cream carton and scooped out a serving. Handing it to Bozidar, she said, “Okay, tell us if this is good enough to trap those renegades.”

The smoke around Bozidar’s head dispersed as he began to pant. His shoulders trembled and his hands shook. Edna retrieved the bowl, carved a spoonful and stuck it in Bozidar’s mouth. His lips slid over the spoon. His cheeks bulged as he rolled the icy morsel in his mouth.

Edna laughed. “I have never seen a man enjoy his food so much. Looks like we’ve got a winner here. So what other flavors should we use?”

“Other flavors?” Bozidar asked. He slid from the chair. His knees hit the floor, and his torso collapsed over them. He toppled on his side just as his forehead touched the carpet.

“I think he’s fainted.” Edna snatched the black box and brought the screen close to her face. “Hey, your buddy just keeled over. What should we do?”

Bozidar’s groans harmonized with shrieks from the box. He pushed himself on his hands and knees, wobbled, then sat back on his heels.

“Forgive me, I was overcome,” he said. “The thought of such extravagance caused my internal organs to spasm. My fluids did not circulate, and my higher functions faltered.”

“Don’t need the details,” Edna said as she returned the box to the table. “Around here that’s called too much information.”

Bozidar bowed his head. “Forgive me, granddaughter of She Who Found Us. Let me assure you that this flavor will call to my clan like anerites to vosya blossoms. Each clan has its own unique stotlet. You could not have reproduced our clan’s version more perfectly.”

“Could you identify those for the other clans?” Susan asked.

Bozidar lifted his eyes. His brow wrinkled as he compressed his lips. “It is possible. In my youth I accompanied the council to the last of the great clan meetings. I was an aide to a junior assistant of the lowest ranking elder. I was not permitted to eat, but I was present at the tasting ceremony.” He sighed, and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “That day will live in my memory for as long as I draw breath. Each clan, small and large, served their own stotlet in gleaming bowls carved from our most precious stones. The green clan’s offering was particularly lovely in its crimson bowl. Such a delicate shade of green, and studded with the seeds of a plant known only to them.”

“That sounds like pistachio,” Cecily said as she returned. “Don’t worry, Mom, Eleanor and Olivia are eating dinner in their room and watching a movie.” She glanced at the ice cream carton, then at Bozidar. “So your clan likes butter pecan? Do all the clans like nuts?”

Bozidar shook his head. “No, not at all. The plaids layer their stotlet with thin strips of a thick syrup. The blues mash the fruit of a bush that grows well in their region. It is ugly and smells repulsive, but is all that can be expected of a blue.”

“Say, Mom,” Cecily said, “I have an idea.”

“Toscanini’s?” Susan asked. “I had the same idea. The only question is whether we send Bozidar with you.”

“Only if you have the paramedics waiting for them,” Edna said. “You saw how he reacted when we told him there were other flavors. If he actually saw them, he’d die from sensory overload.”

“I can go,” Kyle said.

“Excellent.” Susan scanned the flat surfaces in the room. “Where’s my purse?”

“I’ve got this,” Louise said as she handed a credit card to Kyle. “Get a pint of all the fruit and nut flavors, but don’t forget - ”

“I know, double chocolate gelato with brownie mix-ins.” Kyle slid the card into his pocket and removed his keys. “Come on, Cecily.”

Susan raised her index finger. “Get pumpkin, if they have it.” As Cecily and Kyle left, she turned to Bozidar. “We can get as much ice cream as needed, but how do we let the creatures that were in my back yard know about it?”

“Perhaps Marsel could track them.” He took the box and held it close to his face. “Have you been listening?”

“Since none of you were listening to me, why should I listen to you?” Marsel snapped. “But of course I was attentive, because I am more refined than any of you.”

“I have always said so.” Bozidar’s voice sounded calm and soothing, like a spring breeze rustling new leaves. “You are also very well trained, so I am certain you noticed the energy signature when the remnants teleported.”

“Yes, I did.” Marsel’s voice was as brittle as cracking icicles. “And I have composed a message for them. I believe it will persuade them to appear in the place you wish, at a time of your choosing.”

“I am grateful. May I hear it?”

A series of whistles, chirps and sharp barks emanated from the box. Louise and Scott covered their ears, and Gary grimaced in pain. Susan and Edna leaned toward the sound, each holding her breath.

Bozidar, who had closed his eyes during the transmission, nodded. He opened his eyes and said, “That is graciously worded. I feel confident our cousins will respond as we desire, and we can successfully conclude this unpleasant episode.” He noticed Edna listening, and his jaw fell slack. He put his hands to his face and pushed his chin back into position. “You understood that?”

“Not a word,” Edna said. “But for a moment, I thought I did.”

“Me, too,” Susan said. She shook her head as if to clear the sounds from her mind and looked at Gary. “Could you understand it?”

“I understand that they use a different tonal scale than we do,” he said, rubbing his ears. “Did I ever mention I have perfect pitch? That was really hard to listen to.”

Bozidar clasped his hands below his chin. “This is amazing. We never knew by what miracle She Who Found Us could learn our language so quickly. Now I understand. It is part of your nature.”

Susan sensed the room changing again. The wallpaper shimmered and noises muted. Agnes’s image hovered before her eyes. There isn’t always a reason for everything in the universe, but there are reasons for some things. Their leader told me that.

She shivered. “Perhaps there was a reason your people crashed here in the first place.”

Bozidar wrinkled his nose and squeezed his eyes shut at the exact moment that screeching chirps erupted from the black box. “I was hoping he would not hear.”

“But I did!” Marsel shouted. “I told you the stories were true. Have I not always said our people roamed the stars long before the official history indicates?”

Edna grinned. “Conspiracy nuts in space.”

“Mother, please,” Susan said. The room still shimmered, and Agnes’s outline remained, an empty silhouette promising one more revelation. The path will show itself if you travel far enough. Susan shook her head, and the room returned to normal.

“Bozidar, you said the message should attract your clan members. How quickly?” she asked. “If it were sent now, for instance, would they appear at the shop immediately?” She glanced at the others. “If we’re going to host a party, we should at least dust the place.”

Louise clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, of course! We can’t have them transporting when there are customers around.”

“You’ll want the ice cream ready,” Scott said. “They’re bound to suspect a trap. If they don’t see what they’ve been promised, they’ll run again.”

“Quite right,” Bozidar said. “We need to plan.” He mouthed thank you to Susan and Scott. “Marsel, please inform the elders of our situation, and ask for their guidance. We will wait for their reply.” He ended the transmission. “I am grateful that you interrupted an old and unwinnable argument. The elders never decide matters quickly, and they will likely keep Marsel on hold.”

“If you think we’re going to wait around for some committee to finish yammering, think again,” Edna said.

“Not at all,” Bozidar said.

“You bought us time,” Scott said. He nodded with an approving smile. “Good move.”

“So don’t waste it,” Edna said. “What are we going to do?”

Louise checked her watch. “I know it seems we’ve been here for days, but believe it or not there’s still another hour until closing. If all we need is the ice cream, we could do this tonight.” She turned from person to person, waiting for a nod. “Okay. I’ll call Kyle and tell him to bring everything to the store.”

***

Cecily closed the door behind the final customer of the day at Quilting Parade. She watched the parking lot for a moment. “All clear,” she called down the hall.

Edna entered the showroom carrying a pile of tablecloths. Cecily cleared the cutting table, then helped her spread the cloths. They smoothed the last wrinkles as Susan and Louise arrived with napkins, spoons, ice cream scoops and paper bowls. Kyle, Gary, and Scott followed, each carrying three cartons of ice cream.

Bozidar tarried in the hallway, tapping a code into his black box. “There, the message has been sent.”

“You’re sure Marsel gave you the right coordinates?” Edna asked. “He didn’t seem too happy with us.”

“His anger will not cloud his judgment,” Bozidar said as he approached the cutting table. “The elders’ suggestions match the preparations we had already made. He may resent the time spent waiting for their decision, but he cannot fault us for anticipating it.” He gazed at each carton of ice cream, leaning forward on the balls of his feet. “I suspect his true motivation is envy. To think that those renegades will be rewarded for their disobedience.”

“It’s called negotiation, space boy.” Edna removed the lid from the last ice cream carton. “Tell me again about these flavors. I understand each clan has its own, but why did Marsel insist we put them all out?”

“It is an ancient custom to show the prosperity of a clan. Acquiring the ingredients to make the stotlet of a visiting clan is difficult, and costly.” He spread his arms to encompass the table. “This display of wealth should persuade even these four that their attempt at conquest is futile.”

“Those critters have been here a year,” Edna said. “I’m sure they know that ice cream isn’t a rare commodity in these parts.”

Bozidar shook his head. “They are young and inexperienced. They have not had the training to alter their appearance on their own. The leader She Who Found Us encountered was exceptionally gifted to be able to transform herself and the others with her. No, those four would have searched for an isolated location to avoid detection and capture.”

Cecily scooped a serving of butter pecan into a bowl. “So her leaving part of herself in Agnes’s quilt, that’s special? Not something all of you can do?” She handed the bowl and a spoon to Bozidar.

“Indeed not,” he said. His hands trembled as he buried the spoon in the ice cream. He carved out a bite-size hunk and stuck it in his mouth. After a moment, he said, “Impressing her essence in the fabric - in her disguise - that is a power so rare that had she returned home she would have become leader of our entire planet.” He took another bite of ice cream, closing his eyes as he ate.

“Still,” Gary said, “just because they can’t transform doesn’t mean they couldn’t have learned about ice cream. Assuming these are the same ones that were in the back of the van when I crashed, they wouldn’t have had far to go to get back to town.”

Bozidar sighed and opened his eyes. “The distance is irrelevant. They would have been too frightened to reveal themselves. I suspect they existed on the fringes this entire time. They may have observed some untamed animals, and followed their survival practices.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Edna said. “Will will they care about all these flavors? You can’t tell me you’ve got a clan that makes ginger-pumpkin ice cream back home.”

“I do not recognize that version,” he said, “although I am looking forward to experiencing it. No, the purpose of the exotic flavors is to demonstrate how advanced your civilization truly is. My cousins will have no choice but to accept my offer of amnesty and return home.”

Louise scanned the ice cream. “So the butter pecan is your clan, the blueberry represents the blues, pistachio for the greens. What about the rest? We’ve got strawberry, peach, - ”

“The roses, and a minor offshoot.” Bozidar reached his hand toward the strawberry carton. His fingertips touched the scoop embedded in it and snapped back, retracting like cat’s claws.

“Here, let me,” Cecily said. She put a sample in his bowl.

“Yes, I believe this is for the roses,” he said, tasting with caution. “You must understand, I have studied the stotlets of the various clans, but never partaken.”

“Why study them if you can’t eat them?” Edna asked. “Sounds more like punishment to me.”

He curled his bowl to his chest, bowing his head over it. “The punishment came later, in my opinion. I trained for a life as a protocol specialist. My role was to accompany our diplomats from clan to clan, and provide them with the information they needed to honor our hosts.” He lifted his head and focused on Edna. “Misunderstandings can have dreadful consequences. A poorly chosen word can start a war.”

“Yeah, yeah, and a stitch in time saves nine. Get to the point,” Edna said.

Bozidar closed his eyes and sighed. “My point is that I studied the composition of stotlet planet-wide. I can tell by the smell and color which one corresponds to which clan. There is not always a direct match, you understand. That one next to Louise, with the small red globes and brown lumps, is very similar to one of our northern clans.”

“You mean the cherry chocolate chip?” Louise asked.

“Yes.” He gazed at the carton, then his bowl, then the carton.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you can eat what you want. Louise, give him a scoop,” Edna said.

As Louise filled his bowl, Bozidar said, “In the distant past, three clans provided all the great leaders. The greens and the browns - ”

“You said the chocolate gelato was their flavor, right?” Cecily asked.

“Close enough. Those two clans are the most ancient, but there is another clan, far to the north. It is small and poor, but honorable and wise. Or was.” He nibbled the cherry chocolate chip and trembled. “The mere taste of this feels like rebellion.” He put the bowl on the cutting table.

“Long ago,” he said, “our leaders were chosen in succession from the three most ancient clans. The consort was also chosen in succession. It came to pass that the greens provided a candidate. She was intelligent. Beautiful. Trained to be the finest leader in many generations. Her consort was to come from the browns, but a prince of the northern clan objected. He had loved the green princess for many years, and could not bear the thought of losing her. He kidnapped her and brought her to a remote island. The war that ensued was terrible, and ended the rotation of the leaders.”

“So how are they chosen now?” Scott asked.

“By wealth,” Bozidar said. “My clan has ruled for many years, but the blues wish to replace us. Someday they will, I suppose.” He picked up his bowl and ate from the serving of butter pecan, sorrow in his eyes.

Cecily whispered to Kyle. “Green, brown and whatever the cherry people called themselves - what does that remind you of?”

“Um, pistachio for the greens, chocolate for the browns, the cherry - oh, of course, spumoni. They didn’t have it at Toscanini’s.”

“But they have it at the ice cream shop at the other end of the shopping center. Come on, let’s get some.”

As Cecily and Kyle edged toward the door, Susan said, “What are you two plotting now?”

“Just going to get . . . something,” Cecily said. “We won’t be long.”

“Make sure you aren’t.” Edna said. “Those critters should be here any minute. You don’t want to miss that, do you?”

“That’s right, you sent the message a while ago,” Gary said. “I thought the whole reason we cleared everyone out of the shop so quickly was because the stragglers would pop in as soon as you hit the last button.”

While Gary was talking, Cecily and Kyle escaped. The front door closed with a jangle of the bell.

“Kids,” Edna said, gesturing toward the door. “They’re going to miss all the fun.” She turned to Bozidar. “Assuming your buddies show up.”

“What we expect and what we receive are gifts from different gods,” Bozidar said. “My clansmen will appear when it suits them.” He jerked once, put his bowl on the table and retrieved his box. “A message from Marsel. He is detecting transport activity. Apparently they are near, but biding their time.”

“Maybe they’re watching the shop?” Scott asked.

“Surveillance would be prudent,” Bozidar said. “I would act with caution were I in their position.”

A shimmering blue light appeared in the corner of the showroom. Four squat beige objects appeared within the light, wrinkling and twitching. As the light faded, the objects stopped twitching and their form solidified into bolts of fabric.

“Couldn’t you tell them to take their own shape?” Edna asked. “Having them look like fabric is getting on my nerves.”

“As I have explained, transformation involves more than technology. There is talent and training to consider, neither of which these four possess.”

Bozidar approached the four creatures, who retreated until they backed into a display shelf. They stood against the wall of fabric, trembling. He opened his arms and bent his head, not quite a bow but more than a nod. As he straightened, he swept both hands in the direction of the cutting table. He chirped once.

The creatures tilted in the direction of the cutting table, then snapped to attention and made a circle. They chittered at each other a moment and fell silent. After a pause, one of the creatures sprouted legs and arms. It swiveled about and tottered toward Bozidar.

“Would it help if I offered them ice cream?” Susan asked.

Without taking his eyes off his comrade, Bozidar said, “Put a small amount of what you call butter pecan in a bowl. Give it to me, and I will offer it to him.”

She scooped two bites into a bowl and anchored a spoon in the middle. She moved with slow, deliberate steps, keeping Bozidar between herself and the creatures. When she was within reach of his elbow, she said, “Do you want them to see me handing the bowl to you?”

“Yes,” he said, “that will demonstrate trust between us.”

She took one lateral step and paused. The creature stopped. Faint puffs of smoke emanated from its sides. It bobbled up and down but did not retreat. Susan inhaled, smiled, and took a step forward.

The creature stopped in mid-bobble, as if holding its breath. More smoke puffed around it, accompanied by a sound somewhere between a whine and a screech. The three behind it moved so close together it seemed as if they were fused. Bozidar hummed and bowed. The legged bolt fell silent, and the smoke ceased to puff.

Still bent forward, Bozidar said, “Give the stotlet to me, but do not move otherwise.” When Susan offered the bowl, he reached out and grasped it. Extending his arms as he straightened his back, he took a step forward.

The legged bolt trembled, but stood its ground. Small appendages popped out from its front and grew into arms, which moved forward like a ribbon coming off a spool. Claw-like pinchers unfolded from the tip of the appendages, and took the bowl from Bozidar’s hands. The arms retracted as a neck and head pushed up from the top of the bolt. A fold in the head deepened and widened, forming a slit. The creature took the spoon and shoveled a thimbleful of ice cream into the slit.

The other three, still pressed together like wads of old chewing gum, emitted stuttering squeaks punctuated by puffs of smoke. Tiny nubs poked out of their tops where a neck might grow, but were sucked in again.

Bozidar held up his hands. He burbled a long series of rolling syllables. Without turning his head, he said in a low voice, “The three against the shelves are terrified of what is in the bowl. They think they are all going to be poisoned. I have told them they have nothing to fear from us.”

“That’s a hard sell,” Edna said. “The one eating the ice cream looks like a statue. It hasn’t moved since it stuck the spoon in its, um, mouth.”

“Look more closely,” Bozidar said.

All eyes focused on the little bolt with the spoon sticking out of it. The creature made no sound, no smoke wafted from its folds, and its outer edges remained still. Then the pincher holding the spoon trembled. The creature made tiny popping noises, like hiccups.

“Is it crying?” Susan asked.

“Weeping for joy.” Bozidar nodded and chirped. “I have told him he is forgiven.”

The bolt ceased its hiccupping and spooned more ice cream into its slit. As it did, its edges smoothed and the appearance of folds morphed into a fleshy aspect. The pincher-like claw rounded into a three-fingered hand, and the stumps that served as legs began to look like actual limbs. Then the sheen faded, and the creature looked like fabric again.

“What happened?” Gary asked as drew Susan back.

“Something unexpected,” Bozidar said. He moved closer and put his hand on the top of the bolt. The two clicked and chittered, then Bozidar stepped away as the other returned to eating. “He temporarily reverted to his true form. I do not understand it. He assures me he did nothing to promote the change in his appearance.” He shook his head. “The old legends tell of moments like this, when clans would be brought into harmony during the stotlet ceremony. I never believed . . . ” As his voice faded to silence, his gaze fell upon the ice cream. “Quickly, more of the butter pecan!”

Susan lunged at the ice cream, as did Gary and Louise. They filled three bowls and turned to Bozidar.

Taking Louise’s bowl, Bozidar said, “Susan, Gary, do as I do when we offer these to my clansmen.”

“What about that critter?” Edna asked, pointing to the one eating. “His bowl is almost empty.”

Bozidar said, “Louise, would you offer him another flavor, please? Perhaps the strawberry. He had a brief assignment with a delegation to the red clan. He is not of high enough rank to take part in the stotlet ceremony, but he witnessed it and will recognize the aroma.”

As Louise picked up the carton of strawberry ice cream, Bozidar led Susan and Gary toward the three huddled by the shelves. He stopped at arm’s length from them and extended his bowl.

The little bolt on the end peeled itself from its mates. It paused long enough to extrude arms and create a slit-mouth, but without benefit of a head. It lurched forward, snatched the bowl, and tipped half the contents into the slit.

“Geez,” Gary said. “I can’t tell if it trusts you or is just greedy.” He stepped forward and offered his bowl. “Let’s see how these two react.”

One bolt leaned toward the bowl, but the other pressed against it and sealed the gap. An acrid scent wafted from its body. It shrank against the shelves, pulling its companion with it.

Gary stepped back, drawing his hands close to his body. He closed his eyes, held his breath and extended the bowl toward the two. “Sorry,” he said after he exhaled. “That’s what the smoke smelled like just before my van caught on fire. Just before two of those things attacked me.”

Bozidar’s eyes grew wide. He barked at his clansmen. They chittered, and cowered all the more.

“Please accept my apologies,” Bozidar said. “These two were in the van. They deeply regret any pain you experienced in your last encounter.” He scowled at them, and spoke in a harsh, guttural tone.

The braver of the two shook itself free and tottered forward. It bowed to Gary and made soft, squeaking noises. Gary held the bowl out to it. The beige bolt lifted itself on a triangle of three stumps. A short neck and small ball of a head extended from its top. Slender arms, which ended in gently curved cups, poked through folds on the front. The cups grasped the bowl like an octopus’s suckers. A third arm wriggled out from the center of the chest, slightly above the first two arms. The cup at its tip surrounded the spoon and brought it toward a narrow slit in the head.

“I’ve never seen one use three arms and legs,” Susan said.

“For stability,” Bozidar said. “She does not wish to stumble or drop the stotlet. Should she fall, she could injure Gary. Should she drop the stotlet, she would bring shame upon herself and the clan. It is a way of showing her respect and obedience.”

“How do you tell them apart?” Gary asked. “You called this one a she and the other one a he, but they look the same.”

“By the shade of beige and their scent,” Bozidar said. “I would have thought that was obvious.”

“Not to me,” Gary said. He watched the bolt eat. “It, I mean she, is really chowing down.”

Two bites of ice cream remained in the bowl. Holding the spoon with one arm, the bolt lowered the bowl and rested it against its midsection. With a bowed head, she retracted one leg enough to take a step toward Gary. The third leg lengthened to the floor. She bowed and offered the bowl to him.

“I didn’t mean to insult her,” Gary whispered to Bozidar out of the side of his mouth.

“You did not,” Bozidar said, his voice at once tight and breathy. “She is atoning for her past misdeeds. She is, in essence, pledging her loyalty to you.”

“Okay,” Gary said, drawing out the word. “And how do I graciously accept her apology? I’d rather not eat her leftovers.”

“Take the bowl, bow, and return it to her. Cover her hands with yours,” Bozidar said.

“Should I say something?”

He compressed his lips. “Yes,” he said. “But you do not know our language.”

“You say the words first, and I’ll repeat them,” Gary said.

“You do not know our language,” Bozidar repeated, emphasizing each word.

“I’m an actor. I can mimic you.” Without waiting for an answer, Gary took the bowl, smiled, bowed, and handed it back. He covered the creature’s hands with his own. “Say the words. Now!”

Bozidar tilted his chin to the ceiling, rolled his shoulders and began to speak. He squeaked three times, then paused. When Gary repeated the squeaks, Bozidar chirped twice. They continued in the call and response for three more rounds.

The beige bolt kept its knobby little head bowed, peeping meekly each time Gary spoke. When the speeches ended, she swallowed the last bites of ice cream, head still lowered. As she replaced the spoon in the bowl, her edges lost their sharp creases. The illusion of fabric faded, replaced by the sheen of living flesh. The knobby ball at the end of her neck morphed into a true head.

“Wow,” Susan said. “I guess it’s my turn.” She approached the remaining bolt, offering the bowl of ice cream.

The creature shivered. Susan hesitated, but continued forward.

“Wait a moment,” Bozidar said.

She turned her head toward him, and the creature launched itself. Susan dropped the bowl as the bolt wrapped two newly grown arms around her. A third appendage resembling a wide spatula snaked out from the top and covered her mouth.

Sturdy legs popped out from the bottom of the bolt. The creature was now twice as tall as its clan mates, taller than Susan. It lifted her off the ground and edged along the shelves toward the corner of the room. As it passed, it kicked the ice cream bowl toward the cutting table. When it reached the corner, it hoisted Susan above its head, and the appendage around her mouth rippled out to twist around her neck.