“Being reeducated,” Andro said with a distracted gaze.
“Huh?”
“Wear this while you eat.”
“Why?”
“It’s your tutor.”
“I didn’t know I’d enrolled.”
“Anybody comes through Port Athena gets the course, skyscraper.”
“Sky what?”
“Ancient term. Means you’re unnecessarily tall.”
“Ugly word for it. Seems to me you’re too short.”
“A few days of forehead-bashing on doorways will provide useful instruction.”
Toby shrugged and put on the ample yellow robe. It fit nicely, tucking itself in around him. “When do I get my clothes back?” he persisted.
“When they’ve graduated.” Andro pointed. “Right now you go that way.”
“Why should I?”
“Don’t eat, don’t learn, kid.” Andro yawned and picked up another robe from the neat stack nearby. Jocelyn came through the fog-wall, muttering, her breasts swaying like two angry red eyes looking for a fight.
“What was that?” she demanded.
“Customs inspection,” the dwarf answered, looking over her shoulder at nothing.
“You little worm, don’t talk to me—”
“Cover yourself, madam—”
“Think you can—”
“—or you’ll be cited for false advertisement.”
Jocelyn blinked, turned red, and seemed to be deciding whether to stay angry. Toby got out of the way, trotting down the passageway Andro had fingered.
A cafeteria, simple and bare. Big tubs of fragrant vegetables, sauteed and fried and steeped in odd sauces. All bubbling under odd, slanted lamps, served up by auto-arms. To his surprise—and there seemed to be nothing but surprises here, though few answers—he liked the food. It gurgled and slid around while he tried to bite into it, sending heady aromas shooting through his sinuses. Enticing. Provocative.
Food it was, he was sure of that, but it wasn’t just difficult to catch with his teeth; it was impossible. The stuff slithered out of the way, as if it could read his mind. (Later, this seemed a distinct possibility.) He got tired of hearing his incisors click together uselessly and accepted the situation, just swallowing the smooth, delicious thing. It went down easily—almost happily, he thought, a crazy notion. In his stomach it exploded into warm waves of satisfaction. He sat back and enjoyed the sensation, which was even better than the eating had been. He was still like that, eyes unfocused, when the dwarf sped by, snorted, stuck a fresh spoonful in his mouth, and said, “Keep studying.”
The other Bishops seemed to be enjoying themselves equally. After hardship and strain, some were celebrating. They sat at the too-small tables and dug in. Shipboard chow on Argo had never been very exciting. Variety lifted the spirits. Chatter, hilarity, cleansing laughter.
This set off Toby’s alarm bells. He wondered if they were being drawn in, doped—but the dwarf seemed bored, not calculating. And after a while his mind cleared. He felt better—zesty, in fact, filled with bristling energy. And his robe had started to rub and massage him in very agreeable ways. He rolled up the fluffy sleeve and was surprised to find that his deep tan was a little lighter. His armpit hair was neatly trimmed back, too. He studied the fabric. Small bits of skin were caught in its tiny fibers. As he watched, the matted weave of the robe worked away on the particle, until finally he couldn’t see it. Gone. Digested.
Well, he thought, it was sure a funny way of getting a bath.
Andro came strutting by, stubby legs scissoring fast, saw their bowls were empty, and snapped his fingers. “Now we get down to business. Who has the license?”
Killeen said, “We bear no authority but our own Family’s.”
“Uh huh. Now, I never held with the whole Family scheme, myself—Cap’n, uh, Killeen, isn’t it?” The dwarf held out his right hand and Killeen reached to shake it. Instead, the dwarf peered into his own palm, ignoring Killeen. From Toby’s angle he could see the dwarf’s skin turn into a little screen showing a document. “Ummm. No record of you, I’m afraid.”
“Bishops of Snowglade,” Killeen said testily.
“There are plenty of Bishops, a batch on most planets. Aces and Treys on others, Blues and Golds on more. I’m—”
“Most planets?” Killeen asked incredulously. “You mean we share our name?”
“Genes, too.” Andro didn’t look up. He tapped the ends of his fingers on his display-hand. Toby could see the image change in response, yielding more documents.
“You mean we got relatives on other places?” Jocelyn demanded.
“That was the strategy of the Hunker Down.” Andro sniffed with disdain. “Don’t you people teach history any more?”
The Bishops all looked at each other, startled. Toby said wonderingly, “We thought we were the only Bishops. Our line went back to the Chandeliers, some said.”
“Oh, you do. But a whole Family line, we couldn’t risk getting it wiped out. So we had to spread it around. Say, you got any Pawns with you?”
Killeen blinked. “Naysay. They were obliterated by mechs.”
“See, there’s the risk. Too bad, though—I’m half-Pawn myself.”
