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  thief out in the street—or into debtor's prison. After all, the little Asilliwir owed her six months' back rent. There was also the matter of Po's bad attitude toward his portion of the household chores. And so on. Barlimo lifted the steaming, black cauldron out of the fire easily, her strong muscles flexing as she did so. She set the cauldron on an iron rack to cool. Selecting a wooden bowl from one of the kitchen cupboards, Barlimo served herself some curried stew. As she did so, she spoke to Timmer. «Podiddley has as much right to live here as you do, girl. I realize Po's habits of cleanliness and integrity fall far below your own—» «And the house's,» retorted Timmer defensively. «And the house's,» agreed Barlimo. «Nonetheless, Timmer, I think you should remember just how destitute you were when you arrived here last winter. You were between jobs and pulling the starving artist routine—» «I was starving!» replied the musician indignantly. Barlimo smiled. «Then be a bit more charitable, won't you? Like we were to you?» Timmer scowled at Barlimo and lowered her eyes. Barlimo pursed her lips. Guilt, she thought drily. Works every a me. Po said nothing, turning his back on both women to stare moodily into the kitchen hearth. The flames crackled as charred wood tumbled gently into a bed of deep ash. «Is that why Doogat's coming?» he asked finally. «To reprimand me about the dishes?» «Who knows why Doogat does what he does, Po?» she replied. «I certainly don't.» She shrugged. «He's a Mayanabi Master.» «Yeah,» snapped the little thief, «mine.» «So?» asked the Jinnjirri, blowing a cool breath on her teaming dinner. «So that's a fucking low trick, Barl. You know damned well if Doogat gets it into his head that I'm being disrespectful to the house—or to you in particular,» he added, nodding at the colorfully dressed Jinnjirri, «by night's end he'll have me washing his dishes, too.» Po paused. «Ever been to his tobacco shop, Barl? A good housekeeper he's not.» Barlimo smiled. Timmer sniggered. «I think I'll ask Doogat to take you with him when he leaves. We'll call it Remedial Dishwashing.» Po whirled around, his face furious. «You do that, and I'll smack your mouth!» Barlimo slammed her wooden spoon against the counter, making both Po and Timmer jump. «We'll have none of that in this house! Do you understand? No physical violence! Clear?» When neither Po nor Timmer answered her, the Jinnjirri stepped between them, slipping her powerful arms around their waists. «Act like children, and I'll treat you like children. Neither of you is too old to be sent to bed without dinner. Translated—you lose your kitchen privileges for a week. And I keep the key to the pantry.» «With the way you've stunk up the kitchen,» muttered Timmer, «who'd want to cook anything in here!» The swinging door opened, ushering in an immaculately dressed, dark-skinned, seventy-year-old man. His name was Rowenaster. He was a renowned professor of religious antiquities at the University of Speakinghast. A scholar of impeccable standards, Rowenaster's area of emphasis was Greatkin Rimble. An odd choice for a tidy-minded Saambolin professor. And everyone on campus knew it. Rowenaster sniffed the air appreciatively. «What smells so delicious?» Barlimo grinned. «Finally—someone with taste. Want some?» «I'd be delighted to share in your repast,» said the professor gallantly. «How many bowls shall I fetch?» he asked, giving Po and Timmer an inquiring glance each. Po shrugged a «yes.» He could take or leave Asilliwir curries. He grew up on them. Timmer, however, sneezed, made a disagreeable face, and fled the room. Rowenaster watched her leave, his expression amused. «For someone so concerned with what's trendy in town, you'd think she'd display better manners. This is Saambolin territory. The very bedrock of all things civilized.» «Ain't got no class,» remarked Po, taking his bowl of curry in his hands and also leaving the kitchen. Barlimo slumped against the counter. Then, without warning Rowenaster, she removed the scarf she wore on her head. A fine spray of Jinnjirri hair fell to her square shoulders. Its shade was mottled red. Rowenaster stared at Barlimo's hair color in surprise. «What in Neath has made you so angry, Barl?» he asked, watching the Jinnjirri's shifty-tempered locks darken to a burnt scarlet in perfect emotional mimicry of her frustration with the denizens of the Kaleidicopia. «Same old things, Rowen. Same old things,» she repeated, her hair now streaking with depression blue. In a state of deep meditational creativity, Jinnjirri hair shone a milky opalescent with hints of fiery color from the full light spectrum in each strand. Since the Jinnjirri born hailed from a land of shifting topographical and climatic patterns, Jinnjirri hair naturally changed color with their moods. The process was so completely involuntary and emotionally revealing that the Jinnjirri often wore hats to protect their privacy. Fortunately for the Jinnjirri, their smooth faces were devoid of facial hair of any kind—including eyebrows and eyelashes. Even so, the hatters of Speakinghast enjoyed a booming business, their fashions so imaginative that even members of other landraces were tempted to purchase or barter for them. In any event,

  a Jinnjirri's removal of his or her hat indicated that the Jinnjirri was willing to risk a fairly high level of emotional vulnerability. Rowenaster inclined his gray head, clearly honored by Barlimo's unhatting gesture. He ate his stew in silence, waiting for the fifty-year-old architect to speak her mind. Barlimo took a bite of her own stew, savoring the strong taste of garlic in the meat. Finally she raised her eyes to meet Rowen's. She shrugged and said, «The Saambolin Housing Commission is sniffing around again. Got more building codes specs today in the mail. We meet none of their requirements, of course. What Jinnjirri house does?» Rowenaster nodded, his expression thoughtful behind his silver bifocals. «It's an election year, dear heart. And Gadorian's pushing for a second term in office.» «He's going to lose the Jinnjirri vote,» retorted Barlimo. «What does he care?» asked the professor mildly. «Your draw makes up a negligible portion of the city population. He's after bigger stakes: the wealthy Saambolin administrators on University Hill.» «And to think I voted for Guildmaster Gadorian,» grumbled Barlimo. «His wife's nice,» remarked the professor. «And I have some pull with her, Barlimo. Perhaps I could speak to her about the Housing Commission. Master Curator Sirrefene owes me quite a few favors,» he added, «including passing a certain struggling student some twenty years ago when I had him in my Greatkin Survey class. Made it possible for them to get married.» «Gadorian was your student?» Rowenaster nodded. «Does seem impossible that our present tyrannical Guildmaster could ever have been a struggling student, doesn't it?» «Prince of the City,» snorted the Jinnjirri derisively. «Where does he come up with these ideas?» «Academic aristocracy is making a comeback on the Hill,» said Rowenaster. «It's very trendy,» he added with a smile. «Better watch out or we'll have Timmertandi expecting us to kiss her hand when she walks in the room. Students rule, you know.» «Not in this house,» retorted Barlimo. «This is a pure dictatorship. Mine,» she added with a twinkle in her eye. Rowenaster surveyed the Jinnjirri's hair; it was turning a light shade of good-humored yellow. «That's better,» he said. The door to the kitchen swung toward them. A brown-haired, round-faced girl of nineteen walked into the room. Her movements were timid, her posture poor and lacking a spirit of self-assurance. She was the youngest and newest member of the Kaleidicopia. Her name was Mab, and she was Piedmerri born. «I'm sorry to disturb you both,» said Mab so softly that Barlimo had to strain to catch the words. The professor smiled warmly at the plump girl. Her landdraw was one of natural generosity; thus the people of this race tended to have bodies that reflected this quality. Mab started suddenly when she realized that Barlimo wasn't wearing her scarf. «Um—maybe this isn't such a good time—» she began. Barlimo chuckled. «Don't be a goose, Mab. If you're going to live in the Jinnjirri Quarter of the city, you're going to have to get used to seeing unhatted Jinnjirri.» «Yes, ma'am,» she replied dutifully, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment. Barlimo shook her head imperceptibly. She still had her doubts that Mabinhil of Matterwise would survive her stay at the Kaleidicopia. Other members of the «K"—Rowenaster included—had taken one look at the girl's innate wholesomeness and predicted she'd last no more than her trial two weeks. But Mab had surprised them all. She had not only passed the mandatory two
-week «you-look-us-over-we-look-you-over» period without a snag, she was also the one person who not only paid her rent on time, but also managed to do her own chore load and often part of someone else's. As a result, Mab had endeared herself to all concerned—except Barlimo. Barlimo found Mab's goodness stifling. And manipulative. «So what can we do for you, Mab?» asked the professor kindly. «I thought—I mean, isn't there supposed to be a house meeting tonight?» «When Doogat gets here,» replied Barlimo, taking another bite of stew. Mab's smile caved in. So Doogat frightens you, thought Barlimo. So does everything else, it seems. The Jinnjirri rolled her eyes and concentrated on her dinner. Professor Rowenaster regarded Barlimo with interest. «What brings Master Doogat to one of our house meetings, Barl? They're hardly Doogat's usual fare. Besides, this one is bound to be ill-tempered.» «It is?» asked Mab nervously. «Po's the topic of discussion,» said Barlimo. «And I think you know why, Mab. That was some meeting you organized.» Rowenaster stared at the cherubic-faced Piedmerri. «Mab called the secret meeting? I don't believe it,» he said, genuinely astounded.

  «People are just full of surprises in this house, Rowen,» replied the Jinnjirri, her expression unreadable. «Yes,» said the professor. «I guess so.» Then he asked, «Is it my imagination, or is everyone edgy tonight?» «Edgy?» asked Mab with increased uneasiness. She twisted a piece of her shoulder length hair around one of her fingers. «What do you mean?» The professor shrugged. «Timmer's out of sorts due to a flare up of her allergies; earlier this evening I heard Tree yelling down in the lab before he went off to do the effects for the Merry Pricksters, and Po seems more than a little unhappy that Doogat is coming for a visit.» «Tree was yelling?» asked Mab in surprise. Treesonovohn of Shroomz was a Jinnjirri. He was also the makeup and special effects artist for an all

  Jinnjirri troupe of actors on the far side of the Jinnjirri Quarter of the city. Tree was usually a very even-tempered soul, his hair remaining a constant green. He also happened to be sweet on Mab, and Mab knew it. «He got a shipment of damaged furs and soggy flash powders from the north today,» said Barlimo. «They were needed for the Prickster's new play. Rimble's Remedy, I think it's called.» Mab smiled broadly. «The one that Cobeth's in?» «Yes,» replied Barlimo, not sharing the girl's enthusiasm. Rowenaster took a deep breath, turning to Barlimo. «I'll be glad when that little bastard, Cobeth, is finally out of here.» Mab stared at Rowenaster, her expression puzzled. «Did I say something wrong?» she asked. «About Cobeth, I mean?» «No, no, child,» replied the professor hastily. «I was just expressing a personal opinion. Pay it no mind. Cobeth and I go back about ten years. I had him in my Survey class.» Mab bit her lower lip. She was in the professor's celebrated class this term. Mid-term examinations had been handed in three days ago. Mab was dying to know if Rowenaster had corrected her paper yet. She suspected she had done quite well on it. As usual. Mab smiled timidly at the old man. «Urn—did you—I mean, have you—» «The exams are in the next room,» said the Professor. «I know I've done Tree's. I can't remember if I've done yours or not,» he added with an apologetic smile. Mab's face paled. «You don't remember—» «Mab, Mab—you always do this to yourself. Don't always assume the worst. Me not remembering could mean any number of things,» continued the professor. He chuckled, winking at Barlimo. «Could mean I'm senile.» «That'll be the day,» replied Barlimo. «You Saambolin are notorious for growing old brilliantly.» Rowenaster grinned. «In any event, Mab—you know you're a good student. You haven't made less than one hundred percent the whole term. So relax. And if it'll make you feel better, I'll correct your examination next.» «During the house meeting?» said Mab dubiously. Rowenaster grunted. «She thinks I can't do two things at once.» «Oh, no, sir—» said Mab hastily, looking so alarmed that both Barlimo and Rowenaster wondered if the little Piedmerri was going to burst into tears. «Mab,» said Barlimo with genuine concern, «he was making a joke. Come on, child—lighten up.» Mab blinked, then apparently perceiving Barlimo's comment as a rebuke, she burst into tears and left the kitchen. Barlimo watched the door swing to and fro in stunned silence. «Did that just happen?» she asked the professor. Rowenaster took a deep breath. «Someone's hurt that child. And not just once either.» He poured himself a glass of water from the tap in the sink. «Know anything about her family background?» «Mab paints a peculiar, but overall pleasant picture of her folks. Artists of some kind. Bohemian Jinnjirri.» Barlimo smiled wryly. «You know the type.» Rowenaster sighed. «Speaking of such creatures—are Janusin and Cobeth coming to this house meeting?» Barlimo pursed her lips. «Probably just Janusin. He and Cobeth have been going at each other's throats all day in the studio. You know how we Jinnjirri are when we breakup—big floor show. Includes everyone, you know. I'll be surprised if we get through the meeting without some reference to their scuttled relationship.» «But no Jinnjirri emotional fireworks, I pray.» Barlimo shrugged. «Well, Jan and Cobeth are both sculptors. I suppose there's no telling what could go flying—hammers, chisels, or tempers.» The professor smiled grimly. «Never a dull moment at the Kaleidicopia.» Barlimo nodded at the swinging door and the commons room that lay just beyond it. «Shall we enter the maelstrom?» «By all means,» said the professor, picking up his bowl of curry and following Barlimo into the next room. Podiddley looked up as the two entered. «Hey, professor,» he said with a pleased expression, «you put my question on the exam.» The little thief nodded at the pile of neatly stacked papers by the oil lamp on the far wall. «You're not supposed to be thumbing through those, Po,» said Rowenaster with an annoyed frown. «That's what I told him,» commented Timmer. She was sitting by the roaring hearth of the commons room, rebraiding her hair. «He's a little light-fingered louse!» «I didn't take anything!» retorted Po. «I bet that's what you tell all your marks in the street, too!» «Timmertandi,» said Barlimo sternly, «that's enough.» The room fell into a disgruntled silence. «Where's Mab?» asked Rowenaster. «In the usual place,» replied Timmer with disinterest. «Sobbing her eyes out in the first floor bathroom. Shall I fetch her?» she asked, her expression bored. Mab's unusual sensitivity to other people's displeasure irritated Timmer. She appreciated Mab's helpfulness around the house but not her constant tears. «Leave Mab for now,» said Barlimo. «I expect we'll have excitement enough when Doogat arrives. Best to let our Piedmerri catch her breath.» Timmer sighed loudly. «Why we have to have Mayanabi in this house utterly eludes me.» «That's not surprising,» replied Po smoothly. «Implying?» Timmer snapped. «Oh, I'm implying nothing,» said Po with an ingratiating smile at Barlimo. Barlimo stopped eating her stew. Po grinned more broadly. «I'm stating without hesitation—Timmertandi of Belkanon Tuning—that everything eludes you. You're a dumbshit Dunnsung.» The room exploded with bad tempers. In the midst of all this, the front door to the Kaleidicopia opened and closed. A man of medium height and dressed in varying shades of blue entered the front hallway and removed his full length cloak. Listening to the furious round of insults, he started laughing. The sound was deep and genuinely merry. The room fell silent in surprise. The man in blue turned around, giving the boisterous denizens of the Kaleidicopia a small bow. When he raised his head to look at each of them individually, his pupilless black eyes glittered. The Irreverent Old Doogat of Suf had finally arrived. Chapter Seven Balding with ruddy apple cheeks and impossible eyes, Doogat resembled none of the known landdraws of Mnemlith. When asked about his point of origin, the man remained secretive, indicating that he had kin somewhere «up north.» He appeared sixty-two years old in wrinkles and age spots, but his movements were those of a much younger man. Doogat had one known vice: his meerschaum pipe collection. Carved from a substance known colloquially as sea foam, Doogat's meerschaums were the finest anyone had ever seen. Each bowl was cut with exquisitely carved figures and faces, some of them etched with Mayanabi sayings. Doogat smiled playfully at his apprentice, Po, and pulled out a bent, black-stemmed beauty of a pipe. Po took one look at the interlocking design on the meerschaum bowl and at the nimble-footed figure of a
Greatkin pirouetting there and blanched. «Uh-oh,» he mumbled. «Now what?» asked Timmer, throwing another log on the fire. «That's his Trickster pipe,» muttered Po. «When he's smoking that one, there's no stopping him.» Po shook his head worriedly, adding to himself, «Oh, I'm in trouble now. Yes, I am.» Doogat grinned at Po, his black eyes unblinking. Then the Mayanabi Master turned to Barlimo. «This is hardly the whole crew, dear lady. Where are the rest of your deviants?» Barlimo counted the missing members of the household on hei fingers. «Let's see—Cobeth's not coming because he's moving out, Tree will be along as soon as he's finished with play rehearsal—uh, Janusin's out back in the sculpting studio, and Mab's bawling in the bathroom.» Doogat rubbed his clean shaven chin and nodded. «A typical day at the Kaleidicopia. Well, well,» he said, crossing the room and plunking down beside Podiddley, «hope I haven't missed anything yet.» «You never miss anything, Doogat,» grumbled Po under his breath. Then, looking into the Mayanabi's queer eyes, he added, «Just don't box my ears tonight, okay?» Doogat lit a match and purposefully charred the top layer of tobacco in his Trickster meerschaum, sucking the bright flame deep into the bowl. «Now why,» he asked, blowing out the match, «would I need to do a thing like that, Po?» «I don't know. But you've done it before—and for no good reason!» complained the little Asilliwir thief, his expression indignant. «Only as a last resort,» replied Doogat mildly, continuing to puff on his pipe. He turned to Rowenaster who sat directly behind him in a large leather armchair, the stack of midterm examinations in his lap. «Professor, what's your opinion?» «About what?» asked Rowenaster peering over his silver bifocals. «Don't you agree that students who don't listen should get their ears boxed?» Po licked his lips nervously. He started to move away from Doogat, but the Mayanabi Master caught his arm and held him fast. Po began to whine. «Doogat—now come on, Doogat—don't do anything—» Rowenaster cleared his throat and folded his dark-skinned hands over the sheaf of white papers in his lap. «I've never had to resort to such measures, Master Doogat. We Saambolin are a conservative bunch.» «You've never flunked a student?» asked Doogat. «Well, yes. But—» Doogat made a fist and playfully punched the air. «Same thing.» Rowenaster stiffened. «Hitting a student is not the same—» Doogat wagged a finger in the professor's old face. «You're being civilized again, Rowen—I warned you about that. Now observe the direct teaching approach.» Then, before Po could flee, Doogat grabbed the thief and neatly boxed his left ear. Po howled with dismay. Doogat continued his demonstration of direct teaching without a pause. «Observe, Rowen—see how Po clutches his ear. Po has just remembered that he has an ear. That's important. Before any real learning can take place, pupils must be made aware of the tools at their disposal.» Doogat winked at Podiddley and blew a lazy smoke ring. Po, who was furious, scrambled to his feet. «I didn't deserve that!» «Rimble-Rimble,» said Doogat evenly. «You will.» «You can't punish me for something that hasn't happened!» Doogat made a disapproving sound with his tongue. «That's linear thinking, my boy. Remember what I told you about that.» Po scowled. «You twist everything to your own advantage, Doogat. It's not fair. It's not fair at all.» Doogat chuckled. «Such a complainer.» He patted the spot on the rug next to him. «Sit down.» Po regarded him warily. «Po—sit!» When Po finally did so, Doogat added, «You know very well, O My Student, that Mayanabi Masters don't always do what's fair. They do what's indicated.» «Yeah, yeah,» mumbled Po, «and their ways are mysterious. I read that book, too, Doogs.» He slumped, sitting cross-legged. Doogat cuffed Po gently on the back of the neck and gave the little thief a warm smile. Then Doogat turned to the professor once more and said, «Do you begin to understand a little?» Rowenaster frowned. «I'm not sure.» Doogat grunted approvingly. «Good. Students who're sure before they're ready to be sure are a waste of my time.» Po stared first at Doogat, then at Rowenaster, and back at Doogat again. « Professor Rowenaster is your student, Doogat? Since when?» he asked indignantly, feeling immediately protective of his twelve-year-old relationship with the Irreverent Old Doogat of Suf. The Mayanabi Master blew a smoke ring. «Since the professor asked me a certain question over a month ago. I'm endeavoring to answer it—Mayanabi style. Using you as my eager assistant, of course. You could call this a rather tricky tutorial,» he added, smiling at the pirouetting figure on the front of his pipe. Po rubbed his left ear gingerly. «I could call it a lot of things, Doogat. Do me a favor, will you? Leave me out of the lesson plan. Okay?» Doogat's expression sobered unexpectedly. «As you wish.» Po's eyes widened in appalled amazement. He swallowed, his voice stricken. «Doogat—now let's not be hasty. I mean, I'm still your student, aren't I?» «Are you?» asked Doogat, raising an eyebrow. «We'll see.» Mab, who had finally finished her cry in the bathroom, joined the rest of them at this moment. Heads turned to look at her. She smiled weakly, well aware that her face was bloated and red from weeping. Doogat met her eyes without blinking. The effect was so unnerving that the young Piedmerri shrank back. Doogat gestured her over with a motion of his head. Mab licked her lips nervously, her brown eyes pleading for escape. Doogat grunted and got to his feet. Mab's eyes widened. Her body stiffened as she prepared to flee. Doogat said softly, «Like a frightened doe, hmm, Mab?» The Piedmerri girl swallowed. «I don't know what you mean, sir.» «That's too bad. I'd hoped you would,» he said with a disappointed sigh. «Well, well—I must've misjudged you. I thought you knew something about courage.» «Her?» said Timmer in disbelief. Mab blinked, feeling more and more confused. She bit her lip, her eyes jumping to the dancing Rimble figure on Doogat's pipe. She recognized Trickster immediately having just had him on the mid-term exam. Although she professed no particular belief in the existence of the Greatkin, it was still queer to be standing face-to-face with a such a fine representation of the Patron of Deviance and Dirty Tricks. In an effort to relieve the tension she was feeling between herself and Doogat, Mab mumbled, «Your pipe, sir—it's very—uh—interesting.» «Isn't it?» asked Doogat smiling broadly. He pulled the pipe out of his mouth, holding it toward Mab. «Come take a closer look.» Mab hesitated. She didn't want to appear rude or—Presence forbid—give Doogat cause to be angry with her. «Come, come. It won't bite,» said Doogat jovially. «Ha,» muttered Po. Mab glanced at the disgruntled thief. Pressing her lips together, Mab inched toward Doogat, acting as if she were testing the high wire in a circus act. A high wire without a safety net. Doogat remained motionless, his dark eyes watching her with amusement. Mab took another unsteady step toward Doogat, her fingers reaching for the meerschaum pipe. Her hand was trembling. Doogat chuckled unexpectedly and moved aside—putting the pipe just out of her grasp. Mab came to an abrupt standstill, tears brimming in her eyes. «What did you go and do that for, Doogat?» asked Rowenaster indignantly. «Can't you see how frightened Mab is of you?» Doogat waved him silent with a sharp gesture of his hand. His eyes never leaving Mab's, the Mayanabi Master said, «Try again.» Tears streamed down Mab's cheeks. She wiped them away hastily. «No,» she whimpered. «I can't. You'll take it away again.» «You don't know that,» replied Doogat evenly. «It's a—it's a Trickster pipe—I know about Greatkin Rimble—» «Do you, Mab?» asked Doogat calmly. «Do you really?» Rowenaster interrupted at this point, holding up Mab's recently corrected mid-term. «She aced the exam, Doogat. You can't do better than that.» «Can't you?» asked Doogat, his black eyes boring into Mab's terror-stricken face. «What if a hundred percent won't do?» «Won't do?» asked Mab, her expression bewildered. «It has to do. It has to, Master Doogat.» Mab's crying became very agitated now, a panic growing inside her. «It—it's always been enough. A hundred percent. You can't do any more,» she wept. Doogat watched her in silence, his expression unexpectedly compassionate. Without a further word, the Mayanabi Master took Mab in his arms and held her. She struggled half-heartedly, then seemed to give up, her face pale with fear.