Pylo was a bit nervous.

She could not really insult the elders or tradition by insisting that the Terrans stay aboard Tunie. But at the same time she was going to have to be well beyond the range needed to oversee them.

Bringing the Terrans were out the question, her job was to keep them away from danger and her mother’s message cache vault was the OPPOSITE of safe for something as fragile as the terrans.

So she was going to have to leave them to The People and their own questionable devices.

Well ▙◀ was going to be here and that should be able to cover most of anything that could turn up. It was a bit weird to be able to trust the micropolity.

But she could not really deny that they would at the very least defend the Terrans as per the contract, as well as for the sake of the value they represented.

And then there was the fact that this was a port, culture and even individuals that Pylo had worked with many times before. Old allies who would rather die than fail in their own obligations to Pylo and Tunie.

Then there was the Clerk Squidgie as well.

And if absolutely necessary she had dropped a payload in the ridiculously stupid squawker box related to several of the local dialects.

But that should never be needed.

She Hoped.

It would have to do.

But just to be certain she had a few things to add to finish with helping the Hospitilator.

“My business will require that I travel well outside the range of my charges, to better protect and serve them I will impart to The People knowledge of their speech, their mannerisms and the nature of their ways as I have come to know it.”

The Eldest Hospitilator Tilafareidola gaped his ascent and blinked in a friendly laugh.

“I am honored and prepared to receive the knowledge of their ways so I may pass it on to the people and all who need to know it to better their care and safety in your stead. Your honor will be ours in this endeavor.”

Pylo reached out a distal phalange to place upon either side of the Hospitilator’s head. It was not strictly necessary, at this range she could sing one of the people’s entire nervous system into just the harmonic resonance. As skillfully as any of their eldest educators.

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But it was also the symbolic gesture of imparting, as much for those that witnessed it as those that were receiving her lesson.

The lesson was received in a trembling ruffle of Tilafareidola’s hide. Opening up the thick pelt so it would soak in the thick soup of air around them. Involuntary psychosomatic expression mingling with the more intentional expression of acceptance of comfort and trust.

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Tilafareidola exhaled heavily, the moisture thick and misty with venting of overheat. Then a deep breath to help flush cooling relief through strained but not overloaded nervous systems.

The Hospitilator nodded to her in the Terran manner. Then paused and gaped experimentally and just as fluidly. The Terran smile was unfortunately not a possibility but the Elder managed an approximation with only the eyes.

“Interesting, perhaps one of the younger apprentices could be moulded to better perform this task.”

Pylo dismissed herself without commitment to the plan.

“As the elders see it best, I leave the care of my charges in your gentle maws.”

This would have to do. She had ensured as much security as she could imagine was necessary.

Directly spoke to all the responsible parties.

She had to trust this would be enough.

With the care and safety of the Terrans resolved Pylo turned her attention to her escort. They were all armed well and highly esteemed warriors. New faces as it had been since the end of her third visit.

The Eldest masters had long since found little point in attending her visits to her mother’s message cache.

And it’s not like she was in any danger for Pylo here.

The People’s escort was ceremonial and the place among them was bestowed as a gift to those of lesser stations to improve their honor.

The real guardian was the tree itself. Who had been commissioned to oversee the defense and at great expense even housed the chamber of the cache. A far more powerful and ancient vigil against all who would try to pry into the messages of House Courtesan.

And there was nothing nearby that would threaten the tree.

Compared to that the escorts were barely much more than a fancy costume Pylo had to wear to pick up her mother’s missives for her.

The People and Tradition were merely there to support and refuel Tunie.

Maybe provide a useful and cheap tradegood in exotic materials to boost her profit margins and provide a viable route hidden from others. To be quite honest The People’s tiny little port had been just the windfall Tunie and Pylo desperately needed on far more occasions then the Siren really liked.

This had been one of those good visits that she had stopped here without actually needing to.

But enough distractions! Pylo needed to get this over with.

Departing the Festival envelope, into the open brisk vacuum of the understory of the grove. Just at the edge of the lowest canopy where the people had hung their home.

She was going to have to read the mail from her family.

Drag up all the associations and memories of herself again and seep in the well wishes, advice and many layered conversations and nuances that the cache would unfold into.

At least the trip would take a while to get there.

Pylo drifted in the space, slowly skimming along the spires of the people’s anchor point before finally reaching the living skin and canyons of the branch itself.

Pale and desolate and bristling with hidden traps and malevolence for all other life.

Some far distant aunt had taught The People how to live by the strict requirements set down in Courtesan’s contract with the tree.

Instilled and quickened in their nascent Tradition a self affirming structure that could hold those requirements immutable.

Pylo could read the malice, hate and desire to burn every living thing that dared to impede upon this pale, bleached conglomerate.

How even the patterns in its bark sang deadly whispers for all who looked upon it.

Yes this would take a good while to traverse to the cache and read her mail.

Pylo internally sighed as she placed her first phalange against the caustic malice of the tree.

It had been bought to accept her passage and guard her mail.

But there was nothing tamed, cowed or friendly about it.

Just like always.

Still Pylo was polite.

“Hello friend, I am here to pick up my messages.”

And with that She began the coasting trek along a crevice of bark with the honor guard to ‘escort’ her.

The tree as always bristled in the depths at her intrusion but acquiesced that this was not the visit that it would finally obliterate the itch of her presence and then dismissed her and the people as insignificant.

The contract would hold.

To be honest Pylo was not really all that happy to be here either.