Koen stood, eyes wide, caught.

Laura shook off her own shock. It was just a trick. Psychic powers weren't real. But Koen looked guilty as hell. Could the nonhumans tell? She had to say something to distract everyone. She'd talk about…what? Religion? Politics? The weather? She wished she hadn't eaten so many lingonberries.

"Promise," she began to say, completely unsure how she'd finish the sentence, "I was wondering—"

"I was wondering," said Koen at the same time and with the same purpose in his disordered brain. "I was wondering how you taste."

"Kek?" said General Graa. Promise's skin flashed white. Laura tried and failed to disguise her expression of horror. How many berries had Koen eaten?

Fling bounced in her cradle. "Yes!" she said. "After our conversation in the kitchen, I thought you would avoid the subject of cooking and eating our guest. How courageous of you!"

Laura's horror deepened. Although, in truth, she had wondered the same thing.

"No!" said Koen. "I mean — my apologies, Metruian Promise — does your sense of taste function like mine? What is your experience?"

"I like my first interpretation of your question better," said Fling.

"So do I," said Graa. "Instead of threatening us all with primal aggression over dinner, you simply blurted a foolish question." He fluffed his throat feathers. "She is Metruian; you are human. How could you compare experiences?"

"Laura is a woman and Koen is a man." Fling nibbled the rim of her bowl, front teeth scraping. "How can they compare experiences?"

Laura remembered Mark's thing about bats. Can anyone know what it's like to be someone else? How could they know if they were wrong?

"All sapience is the same at the core," said Promise. "Or we must believe that it is."

Laura and Koen shared a look. He massaged his chest while her hand groped for another lingonberry. Disaster averted, then averted again.

"I am impatient with philosophical conversations in which others do not agree with me," said Graa. "I bank to bring us back on course: Human Koen's interest here is not to develop a theory of consciousness, but to inform his professional skills."

"Well," said Koen, "yes."

"I am patronizing," said Graa.

"And now?" Koen turned to Promise. "What do you think?"

"I like your thirst for mastery, young Koen, so I'll be honest with you: it's a bit bland."

Koen slumped.

"At my age, one becomes accustomed to food with a little more zest."

Koen's back straightened again. He leaned forward. "Clarify! Do you mean like lemon zest? Citric acid? No, that's lemon juice. The zest contains…" He scrubbed the sides of his head while Promise spoke and the translator network strained.

"Terpenes," came the answer.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Exactly," said Promise, thinking Koen had made the suggestion. "Like the flavor of red algae. Nothing too bitter, but a hint of it brings out the flavor in an otherwise unmemorable meat. I swear by the stuff."

While she was talking, Koen leaned toward Laura. He was smiling — no, grinning — as he made pinching motions at the dish of berries in front of her. Laura nodded, feeling her face heat up. Would the octopus notice she was changing color again?

Koen squeezed out the juices between thumb and forefinger until he had eight soggy little sacks of lingonberry skin. These he presented to Glimmering Promise with the appropriate flourish.

Laura came to her senses with a jolt of fear. Who knew what those berries would do to the octopus! "Wait," she said. "Are you sure that's safe?"

Koen frowned down at his red-stained palm. "I'm pretty sure," he said, but his own amygdala was now turning fitful. He remembered what the Extrusians had said about coffee, back in the meat market.

Whatever incompatibility there might be in the inter-species experience of taste, that went double for toxicity. Triple for allergic reactions. One human might enjoy a peanut, and another would be killed.

"Another foolish question," said Graa, the small scavenger. "Of course food isn't safe. That's the whole point."

Koen shook his head and closed his fingers. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Better safe than sorry."

Fling's ears came up. "A fascinating heresy! How does your civilization function despite such risk-aversion?"

"How does it work for you, when priests with a compulsion toward danger can accuse each other of heresy?" asked Graa.

"It's very exciting."

"Secretary, remind me to read more about Toxoplasmotic history."

Laura watched the mouse and her pet cat. The flock of black birds. The sea creature hovering over the bones of its meal. What if Koen poisoned the octopus? What would the nonhumans do to him? What would they do anyway, when they found out he'd stolen Mr. Grumbles?

She'd been scared for such a long time. What if she just wasn't?

Glimmering Promise hung in her silks, gold, brine and crystal, pulsing like heart. "I'm waiting, young Ruis."

Juice dripped from Koen's closed fist.

"Courage!" urged Fling, but Koen didn't look to her for guidance.

He looked to Laura.

Something bridged the distance between the two humans. The signal was not detectable by any of the translator bugs in the room, but its effect was clear. For a moment, their brain activity synchronized. In addition to a significant shift in their dopaminergic and serotonergic systems, waves of activity washed across their cortices, specifically centered on Broca's and Wernicke's area.

I love you, they thought.

Koen strode to the aquarium, and Laura didn't stop him. "Try this," he said, and spiced his guest's food.

The red skins sank into the water. Arms coiled towards them while other clutched bits of plesiosaur flesh.

Promise's skin stuttered. "Now, there's a punch in the gills! You don't go by halves, do you, young Koen?"

Laura noted the first name, and let out her breath.

"And the acid. I can feel my hearts speeding up already." Promise's tentacles spread. "Any stronger and I would have to issue you a stern reprimand, but this…this reminds me of my first love. Doomed, of course. But I paired him with my sister, and I stayed with him as his breath-pumping slowed. I told their children…" the tentacles twitched and curled up. "But what am I saying? Oh, you've done a dangerous thing, young Koen. But I can't bring myself to reprimand you. Carry on, my boy. Carry on."

A moment of silence as slow, dark patterns gyrated across the old teacher's mantel.

Graa wiped his beak on his toes. "I am uncertain." He straightened, stuck his beak up, and raised his shoulders. "I am proud! Everyone look at me now! I am the host. See how the light limns my blackest silhouette as I descend upon you." His feathers smoothed, then flared. "Um. I am dominant. Do not watch my vulnerable guest. Watch me as I amaze you with my own story. There I was, running Mr. Grumbles along the beach. How the sand flew from his toes. How the spray glistened on his hair…"

He continued, strutting and glittering, sound effects pouring from his beak.

Laura leaned against Koen and closed her eyes. He put his arm around her shoulder.