When Chenille Is Not Enough

Scott sat at the table in the suite’s common area, back to the window, taking notes from the protocol manual. Cecily worked on her documentary on the other end of the table. Edna and the renegades sat on plush ottomans in front of the window, watching the colored lights wriggle and pulse. The door panels opened and Bozidar entered, carrying an armful of robes.

“The alterations you requested are complete,” he said as he spread them on the sofa. “I think you will be pleased this time.”

“The sleeves were dragging on the floor, you twit,” Edna said, still watching the lights. “You people invented faster-than-light travel, you’d think you could read a tape measure.”

“Dear, he’s already apologized, and it wasn’t his fault. Let it go.” Scott peered over his reading glasses at Bozidar. “Are you sure we don’t have time for one more rehearsal?”

“We arrive within the hour. The crew has duties, and none can be spared to escort you to the training deck.”

“We’ve spent enough time in that drafty cavern.” Edna picked up her garment and examined the sleeves. “Yes, this will work.” She donned the robe and extended her arms. “I can see my hands now.”

“Glad you’re happy, dear, but I don’t feel entirely comfortable with the sequence for these events,” Scott said.

“Oh, for crying out loud, how many times do you have to practice walking in a straight line, bowing to whoever is on the tallest stool, and sitting on a cold stone bench?”

“That’s just for the trial, Grandma,” Cecily said as she closed the lid of her laptop. “For the reconciliation ceremony, you and I walk a circular path, sort of like a labyrinth, to the center dais. Scott has to take the stairs along the back of the stage. We don’t bow in that ceremony. They bow to us.”

Bozidar nodded. “That is correct. I am pleased you have been so attentive.” He faced Scott, his expression serious but confident. “If I had the slightest doubt that any of you would appear unprepared, I would have requested that we delay our arrival.”

“I’ll have to trust your judgment,” Scott said. He closed his notebook. “You said we’re arriving in an hour? What happens then?”

“The captain will accompany us to the departure deck. I and my clan mates will be taken to a detention facility. You and the descendants of She Who Found Us will be taken to the official residence of the clan elders. It is the equivalent of your governor’s mansion.”

Rupon and Salia sprang to their feet and chittered in harmonious protest. Scarlet smoke puffed from Salia’s folds, while Rupon’s upper body was wreathed in a green haze. The smell of burnt onions overpowered the lingering aroma of the lemon-rosemary disinfectant.

“I can do nothing,” Bozidar said, raising his hands. “The elders were informed of your vows. Their decision is final.”

“So we’re on our own?” Cecily asked. “Will we have a translation device? If you’re the only one who speaks English, we’ve got a problem.”

Bozidar’s shoulders crept up toward his ears, like a puppy expecting to be scolded. “To answer your first question, you will not be left unattended. An honor guard will meet us on the departure deck, and accompany you on the shuttle to the planet. Where you go, they will go. Once at the palace, the staff will see to all your needs. You may even be assigned personal assistants. I have not been informed of those arrangements.”

“And the translator?” Scott asked.

Bozidar’s head drooped even more, and he kept his gaze on the floor. “Tradition requires all ceremonies to be conducted in our own dialect. Even representatives from other clans are not allowed translation devices. Off-worlders are expected to learn our language, as a token of gratitude.”

“For what?” Edna asked. The words shot out of her mouth like bullets, her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. Her right toes kept the rhythm of a machine gunner firing at will.

Bozidar cringed. “For the honor of being in our presence.”

Scott and Cecily rose at the same time to intercept Edna, but she kept still. Her eyes hardened and her skin paled. Bozidar backed up until the wall prevented further retreat. Rupon and Salia crept to the far corner of the room, followed by Dajdar and Mercon.

“You aren’t any happier with this turn of events than we are. What aren’t you telling us?” Scott asked.

Bozidar closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Cough it up, space boy,” Edna said.

“There is nothing in my throat that needs to be expelled,” Bozidar said.

Cecily raised her palm to Edna, accompanied by a warning look and a shake of her head. She approached Bozidar and patted his arm. “Tell us what you know. What’s changed?”

He opened his eyes. “The blues have filed a protest regarding our punishment.”

“Do you mean yours and the critters that stayed behind?” Edna asked. “Or do you mean mine, Cecily’s and Scott’s for having whipped your clan’s butt last year?”

“My clan mates’ and my own. The blues are delighted with the taupes’ defeat. They wish to increase our humiliation.”

Scott nodded. “So now your elders have to make it look like your trial is real.”

“I don’t like it. We had a deal,” Edna said.

“We don’t have a say in the matter,” Scott said.

Cecily’s eyes darted from face to face, then to the huddled forms in the corner. Her glance fell on her laptop, and she smiled. “We still have a couple of aces up our sleeves. The first is that we’re connected to a heroine among the beiges. That means we should be safe. The second is the documentary. The issue is resolved as far as we’re concerned, right?”

Scott stroked his chin and stared at the ceiling. “So, your argument is that for the beige clan the matter is an internal affair. The blues have no jurisdiction.”

“Exactly.” Cecily smiled at Bozidar. “Problem solved.”

Scott put his arm around Cecily’s shoulders. “Not quite, my dear. We don’t know anything about their legal system.”

Cecily’s smile faded. “Oh. Right.”

“Don’t give up so easily,” Scott said as he gave her a squeeze. “It’s a good argument. Bozidar, suggest it to your superiors.”

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Edna asked.

“Keep a low profile and stay out of trouble?” Cecily asked.

Edna snorted. “It’s not my first choice, but I’ll see what I can do.”

***

The departure deck was cold and empty except for the captain, the renegades, Bozidar and the humans. Fierce green light radiated from tubes running the length of the gray metal walls and across the ceiling. The floor resembled slate slabs, and the lack of any decoration made it seem as if they were walking into a pen-and-ink drawing that the artist had tried to erase. The sound of each footstep ricocheted off every surface, then faded into an unsettling silence as the nine stopped in front of a low platform meant for ten times their number.

The captain pointed to the platform. Bozidar led the way to the center, where eight glowing circles appeared on the planking. As they stepped onto the platform, the colors changed from white to blue, and the glow began to pulse. After three pulses, the color changed to violet. The purple glow held steady and intensified.

The light became so bright that Scott and Edna covered their eyes. While keeping as still as possible, Cecily scanned the room. Her attention fell on Bozidar, who shook his head and closed his eyes. Cecily followed his example a heartbeat before the light exploded into a searing rainbow.

When she opened her eyes, they were in another room. It resembled a large garden shed without the rakes. Dim light settled around them, although the walls showed neither window nor light fixture. The frame of the double doors in front of them was rimmed with a shiny gasket, as was each of the panels.

A sound like an angry parrot blared in the room, and the doors slid open with a gravelly whoosh. Five cloth-covered objects stood at attention, resembling old-fashioned television cabinets swathed in tea-dyed linen.

A bark emanated from the lead object, and five pairs of arms poked through slits in the coverings. The hand at the end of each arm held a black stick the size of a school ruler. At another bark, the objects began to rise on legs and feet that appeared underneath them.

“Is this our welcoming committee?” Cecily asked Bozidar.

“They are here for me and my clan mates.” He lifted his hands to his shoulders in surrender and stepped forward.

Cecily grabbed his arm, but released it when all ten sticks were trained on her midsection. “What do we do?” she squeaked, lifting her hands in surrender.

“Stay here. The guards will not harm you if you do not interfere.” He took two more steps forward.

Mercon, Rupon, Dajdar and Salia followed him. The guards circled them, then marched the group down a corridor shrouded in darkness.

“I’ve never been held up at gunpoint,” Edna said.

“Please don’t tell me that was on your bucket list,” Cecily said, her hands still at her shoulders.

“Technically, I don’t think those were guns,” Scott said. He let his arms fall to his side.

“They were weapons of some sort,” Edna said. “And those were soldiers.”

“Or police officers. Hard to say,” Scott said. He walked the perimeter of the room, feeling the walls, inspecting bumps, panels, seams.

“Should we follow them?” Cecily asked. “They left the door open.”

“Bozidar said to stay here. Let’s see who comes for us.” Scott ran his fingers down the length of a gasket.

“We can at least get off this transport pad,” Edna said. “I’ve been in bigger pup tents.” She bounded out of the doorway.

Scott and Cecily followed. They stood in the lighted area of the corridor. After a moment, they heard a shuffling sound from the dark end.

Three creatures trotted into view. They wore tabard-like coats with gold buckles across their middles. The coat panels varied subtly, and the front sections showed a patchwork of gold and amber silk. The linings were a glittery pink, coordinating well with their rosy beige flesh. Each creature wore a scarf, although of different colors. Two of them also wore scarves on their heads, their eye stalks sticking out between folds.

The three creatures chittered and bowed. Scott, Cecily and Edna remained still. The creatures chittered again, louder and higher pitched.

Edna stepped forward, but Scott restrained her.

“I’m Agnes’ closest descendant,” Edna said, gently brushing his hand aside. “Let me try something.”

She studied the three, and approached the creature wearing red scarves. Bending slightly, she took its hand and pumped it three times. “Howdy. I’m Edna.”

The creature staggered, pulling its arm away. It brought an eye stalk and its hand toward each other. Chirping, as if to itself, it toddled toward Edna, hand extended.

The creature in purple scarves approached Cecily, extending its arm. The one wearing only a green shoulder scarf came to Scott at a rush, and poked his lower ribs with its outstretched limb.

After a few moments of hand-pumping, the creatures swung around and headed down the corridor. The one in red waved its arm at the ceiling and another pool of lights shone in that section of the corridor.

“I think that means we should follow them,” Cecily said.

“I have an overwhelming desire to sing ‘We’re Off to See the Wizard.’ Anyone care to join me?” Edna asked.

Scott and Cecily replied with silence and raised eyebrows.

“Spoil sports,” Edna said.

Lights flashed on as they proceeded down the corridor, first right, then left, up a ramp, down a ramp. The dim glow revealed nothing of what lay down other halls, and the walls showed no sign of doorways or access panels. The air seemed fresh, if a little chilly, but no hint of a breeze revealed whether it came from an unseen window or a vent.

“Are we going to walk to the elders’ residence?” Cecily asked.

“Maybe they’re going to ship us back home but don’t want us to know until we’re back on the ship,” Edna said.

“I don’t think the captain of the Cold Fire would let us return,” Scott said.

Edna laughed. “You’re right. So we’ll be walking down these corridors until Marsel arrives.”

“At least it doesn’t smell like your Greek chicken soup,” Scott said. “I was hungry the entire time we were in space.”

The creatures chittered and came to a halt in front of a blue wall. The pale light grew brighter, illuminating panels in the wall that slowly separated.

Behind the blue walls was a tiny, narrow room ringed with benches. The upholstery matched the floor covering, both a muted brick red shot with beige threads. The walls were soft, as if made of foam rubber, the same beige as the threads in the upholstery, and smelling of lemon.

The creatures entered and sat in a row on the narrow end of the room. Scott pushed past Edna, motioned her and Cecily to remain outside, and quickly searched the area. He nodded, and the women followed him, sitting on a bench on the long side of the room.

As soon as they sat, the room jerked.

“Good heavens, we’re on a subway!” Edna said. She poked at the foam rubber covering, pulling a section away from a metal wall underneath. “They’ve covered the windows.”

“You don’t know that, dear,” Scott said. He pulled at the foam until the green-scarved creature rose and squealed at him while fluttering the ends of its scarf. He patted the foam back in place. “Maybe there’s nothing to see here. Maybe they don’t like windows.”

The car came to a stop. The creatures rose, and the doors opened. They toddled out, followed by Scott, Edna and Cecily.

More creatures in gold and cream brushed-velvet tabards stood in two parallel lines in a space that resembled a foyer. As the three emissaries reached the top of that line, followed by the humans, those in line turned in unison and marched with them into a rotunda.

“This must be the honor guard,” Cecily whispered to Edna. “Where do you think they’re taking us?”

“To a good restaurant, I hope,” Edna said. “Ever since Scott mentioned chicken soup, I’ve been starved.”

They passed through the rotunda without stopping. Beige silk banners fluttered from balconies, the ends sweeping over Scott’s head. They turned down a long, wide hall. Benches and door frames dotted their route, all made from a blond wood resembling ash. A hint of lavender drifted up from the carpet, a coarse woven mat looking like purple palm fronds.

The honor guard stopped in front of a closed door at the end of the hall. The red- and purple-scarved creatures each took hold of lumpy bronze knobs and pulled apart door panels twice as tall and wide as any others in the hall.

“This must be our room,” Scott said. He entered first, looked right, left, up and down, then stood aside for Edna and Cecily.

The women passed through the doorway, followed by their three attendants. The honor guard trilled three times, and slid the door shut. A resounding clunk echoed from within the panels, and the attendants stood in a line in front of them.

“Yup, this is our room all right,” Edna said. “I wonder if they’ve got any food here.”

***

Cecily paced on the balcony, nibbling a pastry that resembled a cross between a chocolate croissant and a jelly donut. She inhaled, coughed, and retreated to the large open room where Scott and Edna sat eating soup.

“I love the smell of the air here, but there is something blooming that’s bothering my allergies,” she said as she stretched on a long, low couch.

“We’ve only been here a day, and you get hay fever. In space. Who would have thought,” Edna said.

“Technically, dear, we’re on a planet,” Scott said.

“And the planet is in space. I’m just wondering how many of those rocket scientists ever considered allergies.”

“That’s what helmets and self-contained air supplies are for, dear.” He finished his soup and strolled to the balcony. “It is pretty here. The hills, the gardens. The green light makes the turquoise grass shimmer.”

“Why, Scott, you are positively poetic,” Edna said.

“I married into a family of artists. Some of it was bound to rub off.” He pointed to a cluster of sculptures below. “For instance, after watching Cecily at work I can’t see a building or open area without wondering what the designer had in mind. And whether it would make a good location shot for a low-budget movie.”

“Then you wonder whether it would make a good hiding place for a perp,” Edna said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you checking out every room we’ve entered. I’m surprised you didn’t pat down the critters standing guard over us.”

“I thought about it,” Scott said. “But you never know if they’re carrying weapons and might take offense.”

“How much longer do you think they’re going to keep us here?” Cecily asked. She hugged a lavender silk pillow. “I hope the others are okay.”

“We’ll get our chance to help them,” Edna said.

Three short raps sounded at the door. The attendants opened it and stood to one side. A brown-robed Schtatikian entered, carrying Cecily’s laptop like a tray.

Taller than most, its eye stalks came nearly to Cecily’s nose. It bowed its head and presented the computer. When Cecily bowed and took it from its hands, the creature motioned to the door.

“Looks like our chance to help is now,” Edna said.

They retraced the path of the previous day to the rotunda, where they turned and entered a huge square chamber. A raised stone platform ran the length of the far wall, with a small pen at the edge and two rows of three stools to the side. In front of the platform were four wide wooden benches. Behind these benches were rows of narrower benches made of bales of bright red hay.

They followed their brown-robed guide to the platform. Tucked next to the pen were three straight-backed chairs upholstered in creamy linen flecked with rose. They sat in the chairs, and the guide and guard retreated, leaving them alone in the empty room.

“Is that supposed to be where the prisoners sit?” Cecily asked. “There are five things that look like tree stumps. Could be seats.”

“If it is, they must not have many dangerous criminals on this planet,” Edna said. “It looks more like a play pen.” She rubbed the upholstery. “Not that I’m complaining, but I thought we were supposed to sit on a stone bench.”

Scott scanned the room, checking the rows of stools on the platform. “It looks like more has changed than Bozidar told us. Our etiquette lessons may have been a waste of time.” He pointed to the stools. “Those are all the same height. We’re sitting on chairs. We came in the room first.”

Cecily chewed on her lip. “You aren’t filling me with confidence, Scott.”

“Good.” He stroked his chin. “I’m not sure what will be expected of us. Stay alert.”

The sound of drums and whistles preceded an influx of citizens who scrambled for places on the hay bales. All of them wore some combination of tabards, scarves and robes in a variety of colors and designs. As the bales were occupied, disputes developed between those already seated and those wishing to be seated. Green smoke puffed here and there, accompanied by hints of ammonia.

The same guards that had marched the humans around the residence poured into the gallery, puffing larger and denser clouds of an ominous yellow-green smoke. The disputes subsided, and those who could not find an empty bale found someone who would share, or sat on the floor.

Another drum thumped from a side door. Six creatures marched to the stools on the platform. Their stiff robes, more like wrappers than clothing, were encrusted with shiny stones in a variety of sizes and shades of red.

“I think those are the judges,” Scott said. “Watch the guards, and be prepared to stand or bow if they signal us.”

“How are we supposed to know what their gestures mean?” Edna asked.

Once the judges were seated, a trumpet-like noise blared from the opposite side of the room. Two guards led Bozidar, Mercon, Rupon, Dajdar and Salia to the pen.

Cecily half-rose from her seat, but a frantic shake of the head from Bozidar made her stop. “Are you okay?” she whispered when the guards secured the latch and retreated to positions along the wall.

“We are well. Please do not attempt to speak, either with us or with each other. Watch, and wait,” Bozidar whispered.

One of the six robed creatures rose and spoke to the crowd. They stood, bowed, and sat. A gong rang out, and eight beige Schtatikians wearing stiff coats resembling beige cotton duck filed in and sat on the wooden benches. Their heads gleamed as if oiled.

“Those have to be the lawyers,” Edna said.

Another gong rang, and a blue Schtatikian entered. It wore a light blue garment that looked like a chef’s coat made from Oxford shirting. It strode to the benches, but sat apart from the beiges, nearest to the judges.

One by one, the eight beiges rose and spoke. Some had pleasant, well-modulated voices. Others chittered and tweeted, gesturing at the prisoners, the humans, the gallery. One squawked and roared, and urged the gallery to vocalize until the panel of judges bellowed in unison, silencing the noise-makers.

The gallery kept up a low hum of chirps and gurgles, punctuated by toots and stamping feet. The six on the platform ignored them, but occasionally a guard would snap at a spectator with the end of its scarf, if the offender were close enough.

A guard marched to Cecily’s chair and took the laptop. She opened her mouth but snapped it shut before a word of protest escaped. Instead, she smiled and nodded. The guard bowed, and brought the laptop to the judges.

Two other guards carried a small, square table festooned with dangling electrical cords to the judges’ area. The laptop was placed on the center of the table, cords were attached, and the guards marched away. The judge who had addressed the gallery at the beginning turned on Cecily’s computer and motioned her to approach.

“They want you to play the documentary now,” Bozidar whispered. “Do not worry about the interfaces. Our equipment will not damage yours. Retrieve the file as you normally would.”

Cecily nodded, went to her computer, found the file and clicked it open.

As the video began on the computer screen, a panel opened in the ceiling and a sail-like white fabric unrolled against the wall behind the platform. The close-up of ice cream on Susan’s coffee table rippled in the air until the fabric relaxed and stilled. The video rolled on, scene after scene.

Edna laughed when she saw herself eating spumoni. “It certainly is hard to look dainty when you’re shoveling ice cream into a four-foot wide mouth.” She winked at Cecily. “You did a great job with the edits, sweetie.”

The gallery grew still as the film progressed, until the scene when Agnes’ thimble appeared. Gasping chirps circled through the room. Even the guards and lawyers chittered to each other. Only the blue lawyer and the judges remained silent.

When the film ended, the sail-like cloth retracted into the ceiling. The judges rose in unison and lined up on the edge of the stage. They bowed to the beige lawyers, then the blue, then the gallery. A line of guards marched in behind the judges, while the last one in the line remained by the pen.

“Are they going to pronounce the sentence now?” Cecily whispered to Bozidar.

“I expect so,” he said. He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders sagging.

The judges spoke in turn, and each speech seemed longer than the last. Some of their squeaks brought what sounded like cheers from the gallery, others caused the spectators to cringe. A few of those on the floor near exits crept away. When the last judge spoke, the blue lawyer rose, barked once, bowed, and marched from the room.

As the blue left the chambers, the last judge pointed to the guard at the pen and chirped. The guard unlatched the gate and threw it wide.

Bozidar stared at the opening. He pushed himself to standing and staggered through. Cecily brushed his hand and smiled.

The others followed Bozidar, scuttling like baby turtles rushing for the sea. Dajdar and Mercon took position on either side of Scott and Edna, while Rupon and Salia stood behind Cecily and Bozidar.

The judges grunted and turned. Guards with musical instruments drummed, thrummed, tootled and gonged as the judges left the stage and the lawyers followed them out of the chamber. The guards along the wall removed their scarves and twirled them overhead, chittering as they herded spectators from the bales to the aisles to the exits.

Once empty, the room took on a heavy silence as thick as hot fudge sauce. Cecily retrieved her laptop, tiptoeing across the platform to muffle the sound of her shoes.

“So that’s it?” Edna asked. “The i’s are dotted and the t’s are crossed?”

Bozidar stared at her, incomprehension in his eyes.

“She’s asking if you are free to go now,” Scott said. “Have you been acquitted?”

Bozidar nodded. “Yes. The trial is over. The five of us are released from detention and will not suffer further recriminations.”

“On my planet, when someone dodges the bullet the way you did, they’re happy,” Edna said. “You don’t look happy.”

“Are you in shock?” Cecily asked.

“Shock?” Bozidar repeated. “Yes, I am in shock.”

Edna clapped him on the back. “Well, cheer up, space boy. You’re free, we’ll be gone soon, and all will be well with your world.”

Bozidar shuddered. “One can always hope,” he said.

Scott crossed his arms. “You’re hiding something.”

Rupon and Salia pushed Bozidar, while Dajdar and Mercon pressed against Scott and Edna. Bozidar took Cecily’s hand and led the group out of the room.

“Where are we going?” Scott asked, holding tight to Edna. “And what happened during the trial?”

Bozidar scanned the corridor as he increased the pace. “We are going back to your quarters. I will tell you everything there, but please be assured that none of what happened is your fault.”

“Our fault?” Edna snapped. She trotted beside Scott as he urged her to walk faster. “I was the model of good behavior the entire time.”

“I agree,” Bozidar said. He chirped, and broke into a jog.

Rupon, Dajdar, Mercon and Salia cheeped in response, then surrounded the humans. Dajdar lifted Edna until her toes cleared the floor. Rupon dragged Cecily forward.

Bozidar wheezed. Gray smoke rolled out of his mouth. His jog slowed as he approached the humans’ quarters.

The guards in front of the door craned their eye stalks toward him. One chittered, while the other barked once. The barking guard stomped toward Bozidar.

“Inside!” Bozidar commanded as he knocked the guard off its feet.

Mercon swept the other guard aside and Salia pushed open the door. Rupon and Dajdar rushed inside, carrying Cecily and Edna. Mercon shoved Scott into the room, and Salia and Bozidar slammed the panels together. Salia pressed a bronze triangle on the wall and a lock clicked in place.

Bozidar chittered at his clan mates. He moved his hands in intricate patterns, like a baseball coach signaling the entire team at once. Dajdar made a curt bow and toddled to the balcony. Salia and Mercon scampered to other rooms in the suite. Rupon rippled his folds as he marched to the door, growing large enough to block it completely. Bozidar gave a satisfied chirp as Rupon retracted his legs and settled to the floor like a beige brick wall.

Scott started toward the sleeping area, but was blocked by Mercon.

“I need something from Cecily’s suitcase,” Scott said. As Mercon guided him to the couch, Scott said to Bozidar, “Tell him to let me go. It’s important.”

“Is the room secure, Mercon?” Bozidar asked.

Mercon’s answer was interrupted by Salia’s return. The two chittered while herding Cecily and Edna to the couch with Scott.

“I really miss the translator,” Edna whispered. She shifted as close to Scott as possible without sitting on top of him.

Dajdar emerged from the balcony, but stopped at Bozidar’s signal. He, too, puffed and rippled until he became a lower, longer version of a beige brick wall between the balcony and the main room.

“How much trouble are we in?” Cecily asked.

Bozidar shook his head and approached the couch. “More than I have known before. Perhaps it is just as well you could not understand the proceedings. You would have been alarmed.”

“You are a master of understatement,” Edna said. “I passed alarmed when the critters hauled us in here like sacks of potatoes.” She threaded her arm through Scott’s. “I’m going to say something I’ve never said out loud in my entire life. I’m scared.”

“I brought chenille,” Scott said. “Let me get it. Now.”

Bozidar stiffened, and a sheen tinged his face. “Yes. You may need it.”

As Scott left, Cecily shuddered. “You just answered my question,” she said. “Were we condemned instead of you?”

“Condemned?” Bozidar asked. His shoulders trembled, and his mouth quivered. He gasped, then burst into a laugh that sounded like popcorn exploding in his throat.

Scott rushed into the room, chenille wrapped around his fists. He skidded to a halt as he scanned the room. “Don’t ever make that sound again. I thought we were under attack.”

“That may come soon enough.” Bozidar sat on an ottoman and buried his face in his hands. “Where to begin?” he muttered.

“Just tell us what happened in the court room,” Cecily said. Taking a length of chenille from Scott, she rolled her eyes and sighed. “Now I wish you had brought more than a half yard for each of us. Maybe some of the shields, too.”

“This is as much as I could smuggle aboard the landing pod,” Scott said. He sat next to Edna and addressed Bozidar. “The court room. Give us the facts.”

“I pride myself on knowing our history,” Bozidar said. “That pride was misplaced. The stotlet ceremony has more layers of meaning than I imagined. You three, descendants of She Who Found Us, served yourself the stotlet of the emperors.”

“You said that would show the elders our family was forgiving the debt it owed to Agnes,” Cecily said.

Edna clapped her hand over her mouth. Groaning, she dropped her hand and said, “Napoleon.”

“What?” Cecily asked.

“Napoleon crowned himself emperor,” Scott said. “Apparently, Edna has done the same.”

“That’s just stupid,” Cecily said. She frowned at Bozidar. “We’re not even from this planet. Grandma can’t be your empress.”

“I wouldn’t want the job even if I could have it,” Edna said.

Bozidar shook his head. “Not empress. Only queen of the beige clan.”

“I don’t want that job, either,” Edna said.

Bozidar held up his hands. “It was the blue official who implied the beiges had proclaimed you the new queen. The elders, in their infinite stupidity, allowed a junior courtier to compose the speech they made in court. I have met the representative the blues sent. He is ambitious, spiteful and petty. He is also a senior member of the most important sub-clan, the azures. He was offended, and has maneuvered our elders into a diplomatic quagmire.”

“How can a blue make Grandma your queen?” Cecily asked. “Don’t you need a vote or a decree or something?”

“No.”

Edna pointed her finger at Bozidar. “Look here, space boy. No one asked me if I wanted to be queen, and I’m not standing still for someone to drop a crown on my head.”

“It has already happened,” Bozidar said. “Before that wretched blue left, he declared war upon us.” He scanned the stunned human faces. “You would not expect us to conduct a war without a leader, would you?”

“Me?” Edna said. The word began in a normal tone but ended in a screech.

Cecily leaned toward Bozidar. “I know my grandmother is feisty, but she can’t lead an army.”

Bozidar shook his head. “I used the wrong word. She would be a symbol for our clan. We would sacrifice to save her.”

Scott drew Edna close. “Save her from what?”

Dropping his chin to his chest, Bozidar muttered, “Death.”

“What?” Cecily, Scott and Edna shouted in unison.

“By tradition . . . .” Bozidar squared his shoulders and raised his head. “On Schtatik, the clans fight to the death for their leader. War brings tremendous destruction. The leader of the losing clan is put to death in recognition of and atonement for the pain the war caused.”