will achieve nothing. Mmm, mmm, we cannot on the one hand decide now on the composition of defender groups, and, mmm, on the other wait days, possibly weeks, before dealing with the cat clergy.’
Quiet Omaytra, small and pale in her low black chair, said, ‘It’s a good point, and well spoken.’
These words did not please the Portreeve. Firmly she said, ‘The majority at this table support my view, that further information is required.’
‘Information,’ Katoh-lin scoffed, sitting back and throwing a pen upon the table to indicate that this was her final word. ‘Information indeed. What, mmm, mmm, we require is knowledge. '
‘My decision stands,’ said the Portreeve. She paused. ‘And that is final.’ Ringing the dolphin again, she said, ‘Item thirteen. Progress with respect to the plan and the noophytes.’
Deese-lin stood up and began waving her arms about as she spoke. She always did this. ‘I told you I should have been the first item. I have news! You never listened to me, though I’m the prophet of the conscoosities. Kraandeere! Jilvers kom nachs hujks and veert-un spjiks to you all.’
The Portreeve waved at Deese-lin’s chair. ‘Sit down. What news is this?’
‘The conscoosities are febrile!’
‘The noophytes, noophytes are febrile, I, I say,’ Spyne added. She sat in a wicker dish on the table, being a womanikin – a reminder of the genetic madness of previous millennia.
‘Febrile?’ came mutters around the table.
‘What does febrile mean?’
Shaking as though in a fury, Deese-lin, sweat beginning to run from her flushed scalp and face, tried to continue her flurry of words. Occasionally sentences would separate from one another, and the Portreeve would have to make her repeat their gist.
‘You always bawl me out!’ she said. ‘I told you there would be trouble. The conscoosities say that the time is close. The jump.'
‘The, the jump, jump,’ said Spyne, nodding her tiny head.
Deese-lin pointed at the Portreeve. ‘Guiners, guiners! There are twenty voices all advising you and you don’t listen. They say you must hurry. Hurry, kraandeere! In months this city will be dead and gone, they’ve foreseen it all, and they never lie.’
‘Is what you’re trying to say,’ asked the Portreeve, ‘that we must hurry?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Spyne added.
‘Then sit. You may visit my personal chamber afterwards, Deese-lin. And bring evidence with you.’
There were looks of alarm at this. ‘Your chamber?’ Omaytra said. ‘But what about us?’
‘I don’t follow,’ said the Portreeve, shaking her head.
‘Why should we miss out on discussions concerning the plan?’
‘Deese-lin is febrile,’ answered the Portreeve, allowing herself a small smile at her jest. ‘She is temperamental–’
‘I’m sane!’ Deese-lin protested, her arm-waving violent enough to knock over a goblet.
‘Sane, sane,’ Spyne echoed.
The Portreeve sighed. ‘This becomes unseemly.’
Uqeq, pointing at Omaytra and Katoh-lin, said, ‘You stay out of this. Leave the Portr-tr-tr-treeve alone.’
The Portreeve rang her dolphin. ‘Item number fourteen. Hurry it along now, I’ve got supper in a few minutes. The Dodspaat priestess situation.’
Katoh-lin controlled her wavering voice. ‘Much as before,’ she reported. ‘I am watching her riverside house, mmm, mmm, very carefully. Unfortunately she has special pyuter circuits, and even Uqeq’s superlative agents can’t overhear her network conversations. It’s most vexing.’
‘D-d-d-damned aamlon priestess,’ Uqeq stuttered.
‘But is she dangerous? asked the Portreeve.
‘Most assuredly. She has murdered before. But what she is doing through the serpents I don’t know. Mmm, mmm, mmm, we must watch and learn–’
‘Haul her in,’ came a few voices.
Katoh-lin slapped her hand upon the leather table-top. ‘No! That would be a terrible, mmm, mistake. We must discover what she is doing first. What if she is of some
Quiet Omaytra, small and pale in her low black chair, said, ‘It’s a good point, and well spoken.’
These words did not please the Portreeve. Firmly she said, ‘The majority at this table support my view, that further information is required.’
‘Information,’ Katoh-lin scoffed, sitting back and throwing a pen upon the table to indicate that this was her final word. ‘Information indeed. What, mmm, mmm, we require is knowledge. '
‘My decision stands,’ said the Portreeve. She paused. ‘And that is final.’ Ringing the dolphin again, she said, ‘Item thirteen. Progress with respect to the plan and the noophytes.’
Deese-lin stood up and began waving her arms about as she spoke. She always did this. ‘I told you I should have been the first item. I have news! You never listened to me, though I’m the prophet of the conscoosities. Kraandeere! Jilvers kom nachs hujks and veert-un spjiks to you all.’
The Portreeve waved at Deese-lin’s chair. ‘Sit down. What news is this?’
‘The conscoosities are febrile!’
‘The noophytes, noophytes are febrile, I, I say,’ Spyne added. She sat in a wicker dish on the table, being a womanikin – a reminder of the genetic madness of previous millennia.
‘Febrile?’ came mutters around the table.
‘What does febrile mean?’
Shaking as though in a fury, Deese-lin, sweat beginning to run from her flushed scalp and face, tried to continue her flurry of words. Occasionally sentences would separate from one another, and the Portreeve would have to make her repeat their gist.
‘You always bawl me out!’ she said. ‘I told you there would be trouble. The conscoosities say that the time is close. The jump.'
‘The, the jump, jump,’ said Spyne, nodding her tiny head.
Deese-lin pointed at the Portreeve. ‘Guiners, guiners! There are twenty voices all advising you and you don’t listen. They say you must hurry. Hurry, kraandeere! In months this city will be dead and gone, they’ve foreseen it all, and they never lie.’
‘Is what you’re trying to say,’ asked the Portreeve, ‘that we must hurry?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Spyne added.
‘Then sit. You may visit my personal chamber afterwards, Deese-lin. And bring evidence with you.’
There were looks of alarm at this. ‘Your chamber?’ Omaytra said. ‘But what about us?’
‘I don’t follow,’ said the Portreeve, shaking her head.
‘Why should we miss out on discussions concerning the plan?’
‘Deese-lin is febrile,’ answered the Portreeve, allowing herself a small smile at her jest. ‘She is temperamental–’
‘I’m sane!’ Deese-lin protested, her arm-waving violent enough to knock over a goblet.
‘Sane, sane,’ Spyne echoed.
The Portreeve sighed. ‘This becomes unseemly.’
Uqeq, pointing at Omaytra and Katoh-lin, said, ‘You stay out of this. Leave the Portr-tr-tr-treeve alone.’
The Portreeve rang her dolphin. ‘Item number fourteen. Hurry it along now, I’ve got supper in a few minutes. The Dodspaat priestess situation.’
Katoh-lin controlled her wavering voice. ‘Much as before,’ she reported. ‘I am watching her riverside house, mmm, mmm, very carefully. Unfortunately she has special pyuter circuits, and even Uqeq’s superlative agents can’t overhear her network conversations. It’s most vexing.’
‘D-d-d-damned aamlon priestess,’ Uqeq stuttered.
‘But is she dangerous? asked the Portreeve.
‘Most assuredly. She has murdered before. But what she is doing through the serpents I don’t know. Mmm, mmm, mmm, we must watch and learn–’
‘Haul her in,’ came a few voices.
Katoh-lin slapped her hand upon the leather table-top. ‘No! That would be a terrible, mmm, mistake. We must discover what she is doing first. What if she is of some
Similar Books
