wondered if I might have to slip the dad a bribe.
'My goodness, Lord Wordsmith,' Tananda said, flourishing her hand at the door. 'Is this not a fine place?'
'Could use a coat of paint or two.'
'Well, I like it,' Tananda said, pouting prettily for the crowd. I spotted some movement behind the curtains. The family must have been tipped off we were heading in this direction, because they came boiling out of the door like a horde of puppies that had heard the words, 'Chow time!' The Klahds, two girls, a boy, a man and a woman, were dressed in their best clothes. All I could say was that in my experience only one person had had taste that bad, and he had been taught better. The woman beamed at me out from under a tall, conical green hat tied onto her head with a bright yellow scarf. Around her shoulders was a shawl of blue and red, over a brown dress and white apron. The man must have been at the same sale of clown-clothes. His parti-colored tunic of brown and green was topped with a purple hood. He looked uncomfortable, as if he was not responsible for the choices, yet had no option but to appear in what he was given. It was a good thing I wasn't there to write an article praising their garments, because it was going to be hard enough to keep a straight face.
'May I help you, sir and ladies?' the man asked.
'Good afternoon, sir,' I said, heading straight for him with my hand out. 'I am Lord Wordsmith. The Margrave has commanded me to record instances of great importance and record them for the kingdom archives. He has sent me here today because of an accomplishment in your own family. May I have all of your names. For the record, of course?'
The man looked nervous. 'The Margrave is interested in us?'
'That's right,' I said. 'He was pretty impressed. He sent us to get an interview that will become part of the permanent record.'
'Oh.' He looked a little less nervous. 'Was it my scholarly takeover of the gristmill in Fleben?'
'Why, no, though that was a masterful stroke,' I said, though I had no idea what he was talking about. He preened.
'Maybe the embroidery exhibition that my wife and her sisters put on at the village hall? The Margrave must
have heard that she made over thirty-five different kinds of antimacassar!'
'No! I mean, no.' I softened my tone as they backed up a pace in alarm. 'We're here to talk to your son about the race he ran at school. We understand that he came in second.'
I turned to the boy. He was a stocky lad of twelve or so summers, just the age when a young man's heart turns to petty vandalism and wondering why the girl next door seemed to be growing into such a different shape than his. 'How about it, son? Why don't we go inside and talk about it a little?'
'Oh, yeah!' the boy crowed. 'That'd be terrific!'
'Well,' the woman said. 'I hope you'll excuse the house. I didn't know you were coming here today, you see. The place is a mess!'
I put on my most sincere smile. 'I'm sure it's fine.' I nodded to Tananda. As soon as we crossed the threshold she was casing the joint. I love working with professionals.
'Imagine, us Skivers in the royal archives!' the woman said. 'Oh, I'm Melangelie. This is my husband, Feothor. My son, Imgam. My daughters, Vencie and Ludanna.'
'Pleased to meet you,' I said.
'Oh, the honor is all ours! Please come in!' She showed us into the small sitting room, still fluttering. Her husband and children followed. She plunked embroidered cushions down behind Calypsa's upright back, pressed a few around Tananda, and hovered around my elbow until I finally lifted it so she could put a ruffled pillow beneath it.
'May I offer you some tea?'
I didn't gag out loud. Tea's all right if mere isn't any other water to wash in, but I don't make a habit of drinking it.
'No, thanks,' I said. 'I'm hoping this won't take too long.' That was Tananda's cue.
She made an apologetic noise to Melangelie. 'Could you tell me where the, uh...?'
'Down the hall to the left, last door,' the hostess said, with a smile, but her attention was fixed on me. 'Is there anything else I can get for you? Cookies? Biscuits? Pie? I don't have any more coffee cake, but perhaps I can go borrow some from the neighbor?'
'No, thanks. Please sit down. You're making me nervous.' Melangelie dithered for a moment more. 'Sit!'
She sat.
'That's better.' I made a big deal out of taking a roll of parchment and a pencil out of my bag and handing them off to Calypsa. 'Miss Ermintrude here will take notes for us.'
The girls sat on either side of Calypsa, and watched her hands. I leaned toward the kid. I didn't know how much time Tananda would need, but I was going to give her every opportunity. The house wasn't that big, and Kelsa had assured us that the cup was on an open shelf.
'Give us your impression about the contest.'
'Ah, it was just a fifty-yard dash,' the boy said, waving a hand to make me think it was no big deal.
'Now, just a moment, son,' Feothor said, holding up a hand. 'Not another word.'
I narrowed my eyes at him.
'Why not?' I asked.
He turned an oily smile my way. 'Well, I don't mind having his memoir become part of the public record, of course, but I want to make sure that all of his rights are preserved. You understand, don't you?'
'I understand.' I sighed. 'You're a lawyer, aren't you.'
He put an innocent hand on his ill-clad chest. 'Just a friendly defender of the public welfare. And that includes my son, of course.'
'Of course,' I said. It was an effort to be patient, but I made it. 'What's the deal?'
'Well,' Feothor said, taking a sheet of parchment and the pencil out of Calypsa's hand. Instead of making notes, he started to write sentences—long sentences—right off the top of his head. 'Before my son makes any kind of a statement, I'd like you to sign this.'
'Sign what?' I was definitely beginning not to like him. He offered me a bland look.
'This waiver. It will grant the Margrave permission only to place Imgam's story in the national archives. My son, his heirs and assigns, will retain the rights to all proceeds, royalties, future income arising from the publication of his memoirs, allowing him rights to his own story, should he choose to publish further writing in the future.' He whipped off a pageful of paragraphs and reached for another piece of parchment with an air of efficiency that gave me the uncomfortable feeling I was back with the minister who had made my life so miserable in the court of Possiltum with his regulations and rules.
I peered at the Klahd's face. 'You aren't related to JR Grimble, are you?'
'Grimbles? They're uneducated trash,' the Klahd said, sneering. He went on writing. 'We Skivers have been students of law since the first written word!'
That I could well believe. I leaned forward.
'Look, we're not here to cheat your boy out of his future rights. All we want is to hear what he has to say. He can tell it again to anyone he wants, from now on until the end of time, for all we care. Come on, we don't have all day.'
Feothor didn't even look up. The pencil point flew. 'Just another few paragraphs.'
'Dad!' Imgam protested. 'When do I get to talk?'
'Almost finished,' the Klahd said.
I was beginning to lose my temper. 'This isn't the formula for cold fusion we're talking about here,' I snarled. 'The boy and I are just going to have a conversation. You can listen to the whole interview. I'm not trying to get him to betray state secrets.'
'See here, Lord Wordsmith,' Skiver said, pointing the pencil at me. I barely restrained myself from leaning forward and biting it off at the elbow. 'I'm just trying to protect my child. You would do the same thing to safeguard your own offspring from having someone cheat him, wouldn't you?'
'Not to the extent of preventing him doing what he wants to do,' I said. 'All we want is enough for a simple
