“What’s wrong?” he said, wiping the side of his mouth in case something was there.

“Do you know how hard it is to get an appointment with Triné, let alone Marius?” said Glorifhun.

“People have had duels over them.”

“'People' not far from here have had duels over them,” Fortuné added, Lunar Cat smile gone.

“I suppose I need to face up to it sooner or later,” Jo replied. Would another fortnight hurt on top of the six months he had not taken up his first appointment? “Besides which, that didn’t sound like either of you outside.”

“Threw you, didn’t it,” Glorifhun chuckled. “Who else has a dove knocker like that on the street.”

Well, there was the pond - no - aquarium with the tower out of a bedtime story, Jo hummed. Or the cake and bunch of celery that hurled insults and bursts of angry guitars at each other from Biscuit Place and the Celery House across the road after dark. But that was another matter.

“Go on,” said Fortuné, checking a floating screen. “Tell him you like it.”

“It’s distinctive,” Jo began with as much seriousness as he could put into his voice. “But I would love to know the whereabouts of the third person in your agreement,” he added, looking across the sweep of couches, floor-tables, contour-seats and glide-lights; but taking care to avoid a certain bay window…

“The Not-so-usual spot. His words, of course.”

“He also asked if you could bring this along with whatever you’re having,” Glorifhun added, placing upon a tray a rippled glass of smoking saffron with a violet umbrella. “Payment taken care of.”

“The opposite of - that - would be great,” said Jo, looking at the glass from the further side. No, he wasn’t seeing things. Cold was creeping down that side too. But not down the face of Fortuné; eyes fixed on the corner of his forehead.

“Not like you to be in an exchange,” she said.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“It wasn’t of my choosing,” said Jo; Rolled-up-Sleeves back fist returning all-too-clear.

“But the other Participant looks worse than you.”

“You would have to ask the Jester about that.”

“What,” said Glorifhun, “they knocked you out? I don’t believe it.”

“Not the person who did this,” said Jo. “One of his friends.”

“Gang, was it?” said Fortuné, “good to have back-up.”

“Yes, thank goodness,” said Jo, not wanting to go back to what Mr Orchardé would have done with that - blossom sword - of his.

“Here you go,” said Glorifhun, adding a glass of navy smoothie with magenta pieces to the tray. “Makes a change creating both.”

“I can take a picture?” said Fortuné.

“They need the others,” Glorifhun sighed. “Just as a sky looks the part with sailing clouds.”

“That I would like to see,” said Jo. All seven — or was it eight — shades of the Rainbow; each with a tang as vibrant as its particular colour.

“Join the queue,” said Fortuné, walking towards the other side of the bar. “Three years, sixteen fights, one herb story and I’ve only seen five.”

Jo glanced at Glorifhun, then at the two glasses. “We can’t be the only ones who get these,” he said, “and I didn’t know there had been sixteen differences of opinion.”

“You should visit more often,” said Glorifhun, returning the bottles to their perches. “It’s all blow-your-head-off squash and pints richer than a field of cranberries. With garnishes of dark, milk and snow chocolate, I might add.”

Jo had to put the tray back on the bar. “Chocolate? they’re not Scurriton Lattes.”

“If only that was the half of it,” said Fortuné. “A group came in last week and ordered a round of cider. Not to drink, but pour on top of their Aquamarion Sundaes and, in one case, an Ernstwell Gateau.”

Words failed to appear on Jo’s lips.

“Exactly what I did,” said Glorifhun. “A special collaboration by Herbfumery and Biscuit Place; turned into a fizzy cider drizzle.”

“But the Herbfumery may as well be an inn with the number of people who wind up in there asleep,” said Jo.

“The owner travels,” said Fortuné. “Went across the sea - to the hills beyond Calette - and came back with, amongst other things, a bunch of jet and blush fennel. Two herbs that can really spice up cooked delicacies, including gateaus.”

“Ordered two,” Glorifhun continued. “One slice was like a flight over a rainbow.”

“But cider,” said Jo. “Which experimental restaurant started that off?”

Dolphin clicks replied. Not from Jo’s half-open mouth, but an aquatic tablet to his left. “I don’t understand,” said Glorifhun, frowning. “Pietran said that he would put the doors back on automatic once it was done.”

“Not while he’s being interrogated by Flora and Flora,” Fortuné hummed.

“Oh no,” said Glorifhun, running out from behind the counter. “I won’t hear the end of it.”

“Speaking of which, I had better go and find the arch prankster,” said Jo, picking up the tray. “But one last thing: Have I gone against the dress code by not wearing something floral?”