weeks ago, so we now have three-foot drifts outside the «K.» Being a northern Tammi myself, of course I love it. I doon't think the rest of the Kaleidicopians share me joy, though. I think I've shoveled more snow than anybody else here! Well, except maybe Mab. She always does her chores
and a bit of everybody else's, too. But I doon't need to tell you that. You've been living here same as me these past three months. So I should give you all the most recent news. (Gossip, says Timmer, who do be reading this letter over me very shoulder. No privacy anywhere in this hooligan house.) Anyway, as I was saying, the news be this: Janusin has started a new
sculpture in the back studio and he willna' let a single soul see it 'til it do be done. Barlimo says the Jinn draw get like that about their art sometimes. Says nobody should take it personally. Janusin just wants us
to keep our criticisms and opinions to ourselves 'til he do be satisfied with it. Po says—well, who cares what Po says? You guessed it, Ma. That rotten rascal hasna' done one dish since you do be gone. Everybody keeps telling Zendrak to do something about Podiddley, but Zendrak just smiles that
mystery smile of his and lets the bum get away with it. I think Kelandris do be ready to punch Po out. I wouldna' wish such a fate. Kel be a Greatkin and powerful tall, as you know. That Po, though. Stinky. Mab do be pretty good these days. Those bad dreams about Cobeth have stopped and she doesna' cry every time somebody says something about drugs. Po though—he was baiting Mab for a while. I swear he talked about the drugs in the street just to make Mab bawl her eyes out in the downstairs bathroom. Zendrak—he says Po was helping Mab get over the thing with Cobeth. Making her less sensitive or something. I guess. Actually, Zendrak says I would like Po if I'd just give him a chance to be something other than what he looks like—which is stinky. Sometimes, I think Zendrak sees the good in people too much. I mean, Zendrak says Po do be a teacher for me. I say no, no, no. About Zendrak and Kelandris? Well, Tree says they do be starting to squabble again at night. Something about sex. Tree says he canna' imagine
the act with either of them two. Tree says the Jinn like their sheet-sharing playful, and them two Greatkin are anything but these days. Po says Zendrak told him the GK are arguing at their dinner thing at Eranossa and so naturally Kel and Zendrak are feeling the bad times, both of them being GK themselves. But who cares what Po thinks! Now that I've mentioned Tree, let me consider what to tell you about him. He do be working over at the university now. Professor Rowenaster got him the job. Pays to have friends on the Hill. Mostly, Tree says he hates it.
Says them Saambolin are so nasty to the Jinnjirri that he feels like starting a student protest. He may, too. I doon't think he's had green hair in three
days. Just a furious Jinnjirri red. As usual, Tree blames all the trouble on Guildmaster Gadorian. Says if he didna' love the theater and his pyro stuff so much, he'd quit. But Tree does love it, so he keeps bringing home the silivrain and coppers to Barl. Speaking of the rent, I paid ours to Barlimo last night. She acted fierce pleased. Said the Housing Commission do be still sniffing around—looking for a way to close the «K.» Having enough coppers and silies to keep things up to code helps, she said. Of course, Zendrak bails her out when it gets really bad. It is his place, after all, and so I suppose he wants to keep it going. He's mostly Zendrak these days, by the way. Hardly ever old Doogat. It's okay by me, Zendrak being just Zendrak. Gets confusing otherwise. And so like Trickster. Oh, yes—the brindle dog has disappeared again. Mab still willna' believe the dog was Greatkin Rimble. Everybody else do be convinced, however. Especially Timmer. Excuse the language, but Timmer says every time she muttered the word «shit» under her breath, the dog would shit. When she said «fuck,» the dog would start humping her leg. Nobody misses the dog except me. Pi kept me company in my room after you left. And he was always nice. Timmertandi has been playing music at a couple of Jinn cafes! She says they do be more lively than her native Dunnsung ones. Tree and Janusin say playing for the Jinnjirri will revolutionize her music. Barlimo says maybe— maybe not. In any event, Timmer seems quite happy playing for the Shifttime Tavern on Nerjii Street. Let's see. Who did I leave out? The professor. Well, he do be teaching as usual over at Speakinghast University, flunking half the class. That Rowenaster do be such a tough teacher. But what a nice old man, really. I
think I like him best of all the ruffians at this house. He do be so regular, you know. Him and his «afternoon cookie» at teatime every day. And he do
be so cheery. I'd like to be that cheery when I get that old. But being just sixteen, I guess I have some time yet before that happens. And about me? I do be mostly fine. I miss the dog, Pi, like I said. Also miss you and Aunt. Everybody was sorry to see Aunt go. Especially Barlimo. Them both being Jinn, they were acting almost like sisters by the time Aunt said she had to get back to her student, Burni. And her hollyhocks. For Presence sake, we canna' forget the hollyhocks even in winter! Right now, I do be reading some books of the professor's. Easy stuff about the Greatkin. It do be nice to learn about them. They must have been a wonderful race. Wish I could've met them. Well, I guess I shouldna' say that. I mean, I do be living with two of that race—Kelandris and Zendrak. But in truth, Ma, them two doon't act like the GK in the professor's history books. The GK in the books do be sweet and loving and almost perfect. Kelandris and Zendrak? They do be always bickering about something or running off and never saying when they'll be coming home. No, they doon't act like Greatkin at all. Besides, Kel's socks smell. Hope you find all the goodies everybody asked for from Jinnjirri. If you do be still with Aunt, give her me love. See you in a few weeks. Love and merry meet! Ya……..
Fasilla folded the letter from her daughter again and slipped it back into her tunic pocket. She bit her lower lip anxiously. Nothing in Yafatah's letter seemed amiss. Then why had Aunt sent her such a desperate message? Protect Yafatah and the others? From what? Surely Barlimo was capable of handling any adolescent crisis that might develop. And as the child said, she was living with two Greatkin. That ought to count for something. Still,
if Zendrak said the Greatkin were fighting at Eranossa, it was possible that neither Zendrak nor Kelandris would be able to keep the peace in Speakinghast. Fasilla ran her fingers through her short brown hair. She had barely begun to do the shopping she needed to do in Jinnjirri. Should she return to Speakinghast? Maybe a visit with Aunt was in order. Fasilla
squinted at the early afternoon sun. If she rode a fast horse, she might still catch Aunt at the Saambolin inn by nightfall. Maybe that would be best, she decided. Go and see Aunt. Find out why she had sent such a message. Asilliwir-born, Fasilla did not possess the Mayanabi ability to check on a
person's welfare long-distance. Still, Fasilla had sound mothering instincts. At this particular moment, she felt no fear in her heart for her daughter's
safety. And Fasilla was a natural worrier. Frowning, Fasilla unhooked one of her roans from the harness. She would ride to the Saambolin border in haste. Something wasn't right. Indeed it wasn't. *5* Today was the second month in the winter school term in Speakinghast. Professor Rowenaster wore the academic finery to suit the icy weather outside. Clad in yellow velvet, white fur, and gold trim, he cut a regal figure. The seventy-one-year-old educator walked in a stately manner toward the podium of his lecture hall. As always, he was teaching the first- year students. His Greatkin Survey course was a requirement at Speakinghast University; it was also so celebrated that many of Rowen's students came back to visit it, adding their comments to classroom discussion. The professor encouraged this. Teaching this course was the love of his life, and if students felt they had missed something the first time around—entirely possible, as Rowenaster covered vast amounts of difficult material in each short term— they were welcome to return and refresh their memories! There was one danger in this, though. If no one in his current enrollment knew the answer to a question, Rowenaster would call on the old-timers. Guildmaster Gadorian had been Rowen's student some twenty years ago; he now entered the lecture hall. Rowenaster turned to the Saambolin guildmaster, who had just taken a back-row seat. The guildmaster was a personal friend of Rowen's and had it in mind to ask «Rowenaster out to lunch when class was over. Unfortunately for Guildmaster Gadorian, no one knew the answer to the next question. Gadorian saw Rowen look in his direction and froze.
«Perhaps you'd like to tell the class your recollection of what a Greatkin is?» Gadorian's face went scarlet. «Presence alive, Rowen!» he protested. «You can't be serious. I took this class years ago. I don't remember what a Greatkin is.» He shrugged. «The stuff of folktales.» The class tittered with amusement. Guildmaster Gadorian was a large man of three hundred pounds and a formidable politician. He wielded power easily, as did most Saambolin. It was hard to imagine him as forgetful. Gadorian scowled at the eighteen-year-old faces in the room. He drew himself up in his chair, his blue robe rustling as he did so. «Well?» asked Rowen. «I'm waiting.» Gadorian stared at Rowenaster. Then he burst into laughter. «That's exactly what you used to say to me in class. And I never knew the answer.» Rowenaster grinned. «He was a terrible student,» he said to the students surrounding him. «Never studied. Personally, I think he was eyeing the girls.» Rowen chuckled. «Maybe he still is,» added the professor raising a single gray eyebrow. The Saambolin girls in the room looked aghast; Gadorian was very married, and
