The Children of the Sky

basket. The self-styled “Ambassador” was the only clearly-defined group, but there was sharp steel visible on more than one forepaw. These fellows might be loosely minded but they had been in the North long enough to pick up many Northern habits.

Scrupilo shouted in Samnorsk and Tinish. The Samnorsk was: “Anybody see what these scum were up to?” Part of him was looking at the airboat, and it suddenly occurred to Ravna that the Tropicals might actually have been moments from flying away!

A human fifteen-year-old, Del Ronsndot, stepped forward. “I—I was just showing them around the Eyes Above. I thought they were allowed.”

“It’s okay, Del,” said Ravna. Such tours were standard policy.

“Did they ask to see the airboat?” said Scrupilo.

“Oh, yes, sir. All the visitors like to see it. Once we get some practice, maybe we could even give them rides.” His eyes slid across to the Tropicals, and he seemed to realize that perhaps such generosity would be postponed.

“Did they ask to let any of their packs aboard?”

There was a loud chord or two from the Tropical side of the confrontation, and then a human voice: “Ah, Master Scrupilo, if you suspect evildoing you should talk to me directly.” The ambassador stepped forward. It had taken the name “Godsgift,” and today it was huge. Some of it dated from the founding of the Embassy, and it was often fluent. Just as often, it behaved more like a club for singletons who liked to swagger and pose. It wore mismatched jackets, some quite elegant. It was hard not to smile at the buffoon. Right now … well, there was something deadly in its gaze. Think back, Ravna. Remember the butterflies in jackboots? She’d seen enough aliens to know how misleading physical appearance could be.

Scrupilo was still too angry to be cautious. He sent two of himself forward, crowding the Ambassador’s personal space. “Fair enough, Mister Ambassador. What have you done with my radio cloaks?” The two snapped their jaws in Godsgift’s direction, and though the adversaries were still three meters apart, the gesture was very much like one human poking a finger into the chest of another.

Godsgift was not impressed. “Ha. I’ve heard of those cloaks. Surely they can find themselves?” It pointed a snout in the direction of Starship Hill. “I haven’t seen your precious cloaks since that amusing demonstration you gave at Springtime’s Last Sunset.” He spread into an aside. “What wonderful holidays you Northerners have. For us, the springtime is just more rain—”

“Be quiet!” Scrupilo turned a head toward his assistants, both human and Tinish. “Bring me some soldiers with long pikes. We’re putting these thieves to the question.”

The Tropicals surged toward Scrupilo, steel glittering on their claws. They would lose any battle, but Scrupilo’s two forward members would likely get their throats slashed.

Ravna stepped forward and raised her arms in the way that most packs seemed to find intimidating. “Wait!” she shouted, as loud as she was able. “No one’s going to be put to the question. We’ll either respect your embassy or boot you out of the Domain.”

Scrupilo settled back, gobbling to himself.

The Ambassador had edged away from the mob, no doubt to keep a clear mind. Now he gave a little warble, and the others relaxed a fraction. Godsgift bobbed heads in Ravna’s direction. “Ah, so blunt and yet—how do I say?—so full of the common sense. I am grateful, Your Highness. I came today expecting a happy and friendly tour. At least it will not become a bloodbath.”

“Don’t count on it,” Scrupilo muttered back.

Ravna lowered her arms and leaned forward so her eyes were more at the level of Godsgift’s. “Our radio cloaks went missing just in the last hour, Mr. Ambassador. So, how interested are you in maintaining your embassy here? Will you and your people submit to a search?” She waved at Godsgift’s mob and their suspiciously numerous panniers.

The Ambassador’s heads flipped up, probably a dismissive gesture. “Perhaps the question should be, how much does your Domain value continued trade with the Tropics?”

In the past, the trade with the Tropics had been an almost unrecognized silent barter, where bid and response were spread across years of occasional shipwrecks. The “Tropical Embassy” had begun as a charity for shipwrecked singletons, a joke of an embassy. Now the joke had a life of its own and—maybe—some influence in the South.

Ravna crossed her arms and gave the ambassador a look. It was amazing the effect the soundless stare of a two-legs could have on some packs.

Whatever the reason, the ambassador gave a shrug. “Oh, very well. We, of course, have nothing to hide.”

Ravna gave an inward sigh of relief. Now to find who really did the thieving. She turned to the crowd behind her. A couple of dozen humans stood nearby, looming tall over the packs. And one at the back—

“Hei, Nevil! How long have you been here?”

Johanna’s fiance trotted forward, a couple of his friends close behind. “Just got here. I was at the top of the quarry when I saw everybody go berserk.” Nevil stopped beside her. He was still breathing heavily. “I heard the last part though. You want these fellows searched?”

Scrupilo was nodding. “Yes. You humans can get in close without upsetting our delicate guests.” He jabbed sarcastically in the direction of the Tropicals, but his gesture lacked spirit. “I was so sure it was them,” he grumbled to himself.

Nevil squatted down so he could speak more privately. No human could direct sotto voce mutterings as well as a pack. Ravna leaned closer. “Godsgift did give in a bit easily,” said Nevil. “Are you sure you have all his entourage here?”

Scrupilo’s eyes widened. He poked a head up and gave the Tropicals a long look. “They’re so hard to count.” He did a double take. “God’s Choir, Nevil, do you think they split off an extra pack?”

Ravna looked at the visitors. The Tropicals always seemed a bit strange, with their patchy fur, body paint, and mismatched clothing. Now that they weren’t jammed against the airship, they had separated into something like packs, mostly foursomes. If they had come in with extra members, then split to make an additional pack.… It was the sort of playing with souls that would have left Domain packs dazed and disoriented.

Scrupilo looked back and forth at the Tropicals. “I don’t know how many came in, but … look at that body paint. Don’t you think there are gaps within those two fellows at the end? These are Tropicals. There’s no end to their perversions.”

Godsgift might be hearing every word. In any case, it was becoming restive: “I say, Your Highness. We’ve agreed to be searched. Be about the indignity, if you please!”

“Just a moment more, Mr. Ambassador.” Ravna dropped back into her head-to-heads with Nevil and Scrupilo. “I have no idea, Scrupilo. Those paint jobs mean less to me than anyone.” I wish Pilgrim were here. Pilgrim would know just what the Tropicals could do with themselves.

Nevil turned, waved one of his friends forward. Then he continued, whispering. “Actually, Bili saw something weird when we were up on top of the quarry.”

Bili Yngva dropped to his knees beside them and nodded. “Yeah. There was a fivesome skulking around the quarry hoists. Its panniers were stuffed. When I tried to get a closer look, the critters took off for the boat landings. And the strangest thing—I think there were blue smudges on its pelt, like these fellows’ body paint, but rubbed off.”

Scrupilo let out a hoot of triumph. “I knew it!” Then he dithered. In a second more, orders would be flying in all directions.

Nevil stood up, gave Ravna a look. “Your Highness?”

Yes, Ravna abruptly realized, it’s time to act the co- Queen. She put a restraining hand on one of Scrupilo’s heads. “Please bear with me, Mr. Science Advisor.” Then she stood and turned to the crowd, which itself was milling uncertainly about. “People! People!” Well, that worked in the classroom. And goodness, it got everyone’s attention here, too! “We’re going ahead with the property search the Ambassador just agreed to. Scrupilo will advise, but I want humans to do the close-in.” Who? She was suddenly even more grateful that Nevil had shown up. He was on good terms with all the kids, and was a born leader. “Nevil Storherte will supervise.”