A picture of sweet osmanthus. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/dc225175b2a69878000ecbc106b9e2e6/d6951b6fb947e7ad-2e/s640x960/0ba0e4dcb09c659967322c570daca925d8c412b2.pnj]

Picture by Timothy Morris

As he'd searched the forest, first alone and then with Graa, Koen had begun to form a fantasy.

It wasn't a hypothesis or even a theory. Koen only wondered whether General Graa might already know all about Mr. Grumbles. What if he'd figured out that Koen had stolen his pet? What if he'd picked up some clue in his conversations with Koen and Mark, or when he visited the Embassy? What if Quotidian surveillance had informed him, or his expertise with human emotions and revealed the whole story?

Maybe Graa had known from the beginning. Maybe yesterday's conversation about animal intelligence with Mark had been a subtle hint. The mad parties and rushings-about of the last few days had been some sort of elaborate prank. A lesson the raven wanted to teach him.

Koen entertained the fantasy. He wished it so hard that he almost believed it. It eased the way to his confession.

"I did it," he said.

Graa paused his grooming, the tip of his beak against Koen's scalp. "Did what?"

"What what? This. I did this." Koen thrust his hands toward the erectus. "I kidnapped Mr. Grumbles."

Graa's legs tensed to launch him into the air. The hands of his erectus clenched. "Clarify?"

Even in the crumbling ruins of his happy fantasy, Koen held onto his orders from Mark and Laura. Leave them out of this. "I brought him to this forest. Didn't you — "

Graa exploded upward in a tower of wind and rage.

"Bear!" He shrieked. "Iridescent bear!"

Koen did not appreciate the fact that the translator network had given him a literal interpretation of the antique slur. He stumbled back, arms raised to ward off talons. Mr. Grumbles did the same, crying.

"Caw caw," the Pick cried over the wails of his mount. "Help! Help! I am in danger." He lit on a branch out of Koen's reach and expelled the contents of both his crop and his caeca.1

Koen looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

Graa's silhouette turned vulturine as he raised his wings and stuck out his head "This is my territory," he ululated. "You stole my pet and you replaced him. That was what you wanted wasn't it?"

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"No!"

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

It was a perfect imitation of a cuckoo's call. Koen's urge to laugh was so sudden and powerful it hurt his chest.

Sharp qworks from the tree above. "Get out! Get out of here. Translator, call my flier for immediate pick-up."

Koen was panicking. He didn't want to be driven away like this. Hands spread, he took a step toward Mr. Grumbles. "I'm — "

His field of vision was suddenly full of feathers.

The tips of Graa's wings beat against Koen's wrists. The bird's beak and talons raked his face and Koen flinched back. He crouched again, hands up as Graa swooped around for another attack.

The translators stopped their work, since neither sophont was listening to the other. There was just a lot of noise in the forest.

***

"I told him."

Koen was on the omnibus, mucus running down his raincoat. He was not on General Graa's flier. He had not been offered a ride home. And now it was Mark's turn to vent his wrath. Koen felt he deserved it.

"You told him," came Mark's voice over the translator. He sounded tired. "Alright. Alright. It's okay, Koen. Just come home."

Koen's eyes prickled with relief. Mark hadn't screamed at him or flown at his face. Mark was good. "What are we going to do?"

In the darkness of his bedroom, Mark's face twisted with malice.

You mean, what am I going to do with you?

A fine time this was for the soft-headed cook to start taking orders. Mark shoved his legs into pants and his arms into the sleeves of a shirt. Buttons.

Thank Christ Koen had called him first and not Laura! Or, no, thank Koen's cowardice. Of course, so why had he gone and spilled his guts to General Graa? The twit. He wouldn't tell Laura he'd thrown away his career and hers, too. He'd want Mark to do it for him.

"First, I'll tell Laura," said Mark, and he could feel the warmth of Koen's relief seeping through the translator.

Mark paused in front of his bathroom mirror to drag his fingernails through his hair. He would go to Severo first, and go with her to Laura. Between the two of them, they could control her reaction. Damn right, they could.

He swung open his door and strode out into the corridor. There was no panic now, no self-inflicted pain. The world was hard enough all on its own. The crisis had finally come, and it offered up challenges enough that Mark no longer had to worry about not meeting his potential. All he had to do was fight to survive.

"We'll arrange a meeting," Mark said. "A meeting with everyone." He lowered his voice in the dark hallway. "After dawn."

"Everyone?"

Mark shot an irritated look at the translator hovering over his shoulder. This was like talking to a kindergartner. "You come back and try to sleep if you can. Clean up." And because Mark really was pissed at Koen, he couldn't resist a small prod. "Take a shower."

A little hiccup from Koen. Was he crying? Good.

"Koen," Mark allowed some sharpness in his voice. "Stop that."

On the omnibus, Koen twitched as if jabbed in the cheek.

"Hold it together," Mark told him. "I'll handle this. Follow my lead."

1The avian equivalent of the large intestine.