At this addition, Myrphee’s chins quivered, the tremor passing to those at the table as a little wind might move through a grove of trees, a sudden and collective shudder that left a trembling quiet in its wake. After some moments, Myrphee drew back his pudgy fist as though to hit the wall, but contented himself with an obscene gesture.
“Excrement,” he said feelingly.
“Gentlemen.” Estif tapped his little gavel, saying in his high, serious voice, “Come now. It’s unlikely to be … well, it just can’t be that bad.”
“About as bad as it can get,” grated Myrphee g’Mindon as he returned to his seat.
“Like tidal wave, tornado, forest fire,” offered Calvy g’Valdet, in the light, slightly amused tone that the other members often found offensive. Calvy made a point of being amusing about important things, and he did it in a way that came close to condoning immorality. Often the others punished him for it, as now, by seeming not to notice. If morals were the measure of a man, Calvy had no business being a member of ECMOB, for it was known that Calvy’s wife of some fifteen years had not bought a Consort, though her contract allowed her to do so. It was rumored that prior to his marriage, Calvy had pretended a lengthy business trip while actually spending a month or two in a Consort house, learning whatever dirty things it was that Consorts did, just so his wife would never supplant him in her affections. The story said he was in love with her, which if true, was both unmanly and indecent.
Though this story was known to the other members of ECMOB, none of them had ever discussed it with Calvy himself. Had they done so, custom would almost have required that they denounce his behavior. Pleasuring a wife was not proper for a Family Man, and they felt Calvy should be far too bowed down by guilt to be amusing.
Why then, Bin g’Kiffle asked himself, did Calvy seem to enjoy life so much more than he, Bin, who conducted himself in perfect accordance with custom? Bin’s couplings were unfailingly joyless, and reason dictated that the Hagions should, therefore, reward him more than they had! The cockade in his hat, the g’ before his name, and six children, four of them supernumes, did not seem a sufficient compensation for all his years of struggle. The thought was a recurrent one, and as usual it made him splenetic.
“The Questioner’s visit could mean total disaster,” he fumed, glaring at Calvy.
“Bin, let’s not overreact. Calm, please!” Now slightly peevish himself, Estif looked from face to face, annoyance plain on his own.
“What does it … she say?” Diminutive Sym g’Sinsanoi hoisted himself higher in his chair. It was a habitual movement, this hoisting up, though Sym appeared little shorter than the other men when seated. “She must say something!”
Himself annoyed by all these festering feelings, Estif threw the vellum onto the table before him and sank into his chair. “The letter of announcement says she wishes to visit our lovely world, which she has not yet had the pleasure of assessing.”
Myrphee shifted in his chair, redistributing his considerable weight. “The Questioner will look at our way of life to see if we comply with the edicts. We are going to have to prove that we do comply with the edicts. Which means we will need the help of the Hags.”
“How many in the party?” asked Calvy g’Valdet, who was not given to muttering over what could not be changed. His way was to smile, to avoid recrimination, to cut through the tangle, to decide and move, to do what was necessary without endless nattering. No matter what the others might think of his morals, they all agreed that Calvy got things done.
“And, where will we put them?” asked Myrphee.
“Here in the fortress?” Bin g’Kiffle suggested. “It’s the easiest place. It’s already staffed with … ah, well, you know.”
“It has a human staff,” said Sym, sourly. “Chef, assistants, stewards. For reasons of security.” He put his hands together and examined the ceiling above him.
“How many are coming,” asked Myrphee, “with the Questioner? We need to know! One or two we could maybe … manage. More than that … “ He scowled at the tabletop.