There was a dark-haired weedy little man in a black three piece suit and glasses standing outside the ticket booth, holding a little paper sign that said Otis & Company. The ticket booth itself had been painted in bright colours, and the wall behind the man had a mural with a huge sun, moon, and stars over a field of golden sunflowers.

Milo indicated it to Calliope excitedly. They didn’t get vandalism like this in Strawberryfield!

Calliope snickered. “Yeah, welcome to Ansalem. We got your street art and bicycles right here.”

Milo noted a rack with about a dozen of the latter hitched up to it with chain locks. One of them seemed to have a front wheel made of shoes on spokes, but it was still bicycle-shaped. He nodded.

Mordecai nudged him, indicated the shoe wheel and whispered, “Welcome to Ansalem, we got your weird right here.” He still sounded a little out of breath, but not as bad as Havredete. Anselm was supposed to be a bit lower.

“Hey, Melpomene, what’s the gag?” Calliope said.

The man in the suit sighed and folded the sign. “It’s Dad. You haven’t been back in over a year, and he’s all paranoid since the electric bill. He didn’t want to miss you. I told him there was no way, but it’s just easier to do what he wants. You know how he gets. Is that Lucy?”

“Yep.”

“Cute. Good name. She won’t go crazy trying to learn how to spell it. How was the trip?”

“Super racist,” Calliope said. She hugged him. “You guys, this is my brother Melpomene. He does the books for a big cat shelter this retired actress is running. It’s about ten miles out of town. She’s on the Mad Tea Party wall, her name’s Carolina something.”

“Carolina Bow.” Melpomene bowed and Mordecai executed a perfect double take. “Please call me Oz. I’ll put up with it from family, but Melpomene is a girl’s name.”

“Em and Milo are family, too, but Milo won’t call you anything,” Calliope said. “You got the car, ‘Ocelot’?”

He scowled at her. “‘Oz’ is shorter, don’t tease me. Yes, I have the car.”

“You didn’t let Dad near it, did you?”

“Look, how dumb do you think I am? I live here! You took off like all the rest!” He snatched up her and Milo’s suitcases and stalked away.

Milo winced. Oh, gods. Welcome to Ansalem. We got your family drama right here.

Mordecai grabbed his arm and hissed in his ear, “Nobody’s seen Carolina Bow for over forty years! I thought she was dead! Are they telling me she’s been strolling around the mountains of Ansalem like a… like a Sasquatch all this time?”

Milo could only shake his head. I don’t know what a “Sasquatch” is, but I’ve got to get changed so I can deal with this…

But they were already leaving and he had to follow.

◈◈◈

The car was a bright-green compact model with a bicycle rack on the roof. It was shaped like a toaster, with a hatchback and hardly any storage space. Ann’s suitcase went in the back and the other two had to go on the bicycle rack. There was a kitty sticker on the gas tank. The bumper had another one with the image of a cage and the words, Exotic Animals Aren’t Pets.

Mordecai didn’t want the front seat, but Calliope made him take it anyway, on account of his lungs. Milo wanted the middle seat in the back, but Calliope shoved him over to the right, behind the driver and next to the window. She put Lucy on his lap and said, “Hold her up so she can see.”

“What’s it like working in a cat shelter?” Mordecai said.

Oz said, “Don’t talk to me, driving is stressful enough.” He pulled the shifter into reverse and hunched grimly behind the wheel.

“Can we have the radio, Melpomene?” Calliope said gently.

“No.”

The streets were like a wire maze, with additional cobbles, kiosks, bike riders, and people just flat out hanging around. One of these people appeared to be juggling rubber fish. There were a lot of orange cones and flapping triangle flags and signs that said DETOUR and DEAD-END and ONE WAY, as well as wordless blue triangles that suggested certain narrow passages were for bicycle-shape and scooter-shape and man-shape only. Milo saw a large yellow sign above the crosswalk that said CAUTION DEAF CHILDREN CROSSING, and a big banner strung between two lampposts that looked like a gateway to a touristy area: PIRATE WEEKEND.

That would tend to explain the clothes on some of the people, but Milo and Ann were both pretty sure it was still Woden’s Day. Also, was that woman in the bonnet riding a bicycle that looked like a huge white ducky? That didn’t seem… piratey?

The confused sprawl of storefronts and houses had a general look which resembled Hyacinth’s house, but much better maintained, and then painted in rainbow sherbet. Nobody seemed to want anything just one colour, including outfits, window treatments, individual bricks and fire hydrants. If at all possible, it looked like the colours ought to form surreal images, Milo noted several flying pigs, but just random colours would do in a pinch.

It was hard to decipher the signage on the buildings, but Milo thought he saw CUSTOM ART BIKES, LOCAL HONEY, UNDERGROUND RECORDS, ARTISANAL SANDWICHES, HASH BAR, FROZEN YAOURT (What?), BOB MARLEY LIVES and (he was sure he didn’t have this one right and twisted urgently trying to read it again through the back window) CANDY & PETTING ZOO.

Oz braked hard, swore, and yanked the car into reverse. The silver grille of a truck loomed large in the windshield, big enough to swallow the little car whole. The street was only one lane, with sidewalks to each side. He couldn’t turn around. He had to crank down the window, put his head out and back up to the last intersection.

Calliope cupped a hand to Milo’s ear and whispered, “It’s way easier with a bicycle.”

He nodded. The storefront that couldn’t possibly have candy and a petting zoo hove into view again. There was a pony in the window and a little girl holding a huge spiral sucker. He stared at her and she stared at him as the little car with the kitty sticker rolled slowly past, downhill, at almost a forty-five-degree angle.

A few bicycle bells went off. It was easy to hear through the open window.

“Please!” Oz said. “I’ve got a grocery truck in front of me! You want me to drive over it?”

The bells continued, so apparently they did.

Milo, are you… okay? Ann was hesitant, because it seemed like somehow he was.

He made a small smile. I’m pretty sure I hit my head on the train and this is another concussion.

Milo, don’t…

A green parakeet landed on the passenger side mirror and pecked at the glass.

Ann’s reflection in the car window blinked. Maybe we should go to the hospital.

No, Ann, we’ve done a concussion. I just need bed rest and pie. He held Lucy up so she could see the parakeet, just in case it was really there.

◈◈◈

Once they got out of the businessy-area, there were fewer people to worry about, but the streets continued their wire-maze construction, twisting through green hills and walls of brick, ivy and hedge. Calliope indicated a sprawling gothic building with a weathervane and told Milo, “That’s our old house,” at library volume.

“It’s not like they need the space anymore,” Oz muttered.

Calliope helped Lucy wave her hand. “Say, ‘Bye-bye, expensive and impractical old house!’”

“Ba-ba!” Lucy replied obligingly.

Milo regarded the house out the back window, and then Calliope with a sympathetic frown. Aw. It’s like she used to live in Hennessy’s and they threw her out like us, Ann. He waved at the house and put an arm around Calliope.

She snickered and shrugged. “‘Eh. I miss it, but ‘home’ is kind of an abstract concept, babe. The Villanovas are nice people, anyway. Here’s the school!”

Mordecai regarded the school and burst out laughing, which he muffled with both hands when it became coughing. “I’m sorry. Excuse me. It’s lovely.”

Calliope grinned. “It’s ’cos it’s pink, huh? Grandpa says it was an accident, but I think he did it on purpose just to annoy Mémé Otis. Him and Great-Grandma still don’t really get along…”

Oz heaved a resigned sigh as he guided the car through the ornate ironwork and pink stucco gates. “I don’t want to get into it, but it’s a little hard to be taken seriously with a huge pink clock tower in the middle of everything. The colour is supposed to be ‘antique rose,’ which is like a pale brown. Grandfather filled in the form and asked for ‘rosé,’ which is that, and they’d already hosed half the place down by the time someone objected, so he went with it. It’s kind of iconic, I suppose.”

Mordecai was still trying to stifle his coughing, and shaking his head at the fairy-pink classical architecture. “It’s not that… It’s not that… On the gate… Academé St. Honorée. This is the Academé St. Honorée. The General wants to send Maggie here! She has brochures of it!”

Oz yanked the little green car into park just outside a garden centring on a huge fountain with cherubs. Scant children of various ages in various versions of the same uniform (yellow dresses on the girls and blue-grey suits on the boys) were strolling the area. A couple waved at the car. Oz ignored them. “The colour of the stucco has no bearing on our standing as an academic institution, Mr. Em.”

“But your family is running the place!” said Mordecai.

Now everyone in the car, save the baby, was frowning at him.

“Okay, and?” said Calliope.

“Pardon me.” He drew a tissue out of his pocket and wiped his mouth. “It just seems silly that the woman is socking her money away with the intention of paying full price when obviously you’re going to offer her daughter a scholarship. She has no idea she’s got an automatic in with the management.”

It was best not to mention the General’s reaction to a pink clock tower and a history teacher who couldn’t successfully pay an electric bill, even though he could vividly imagine it.

“There is an entrance exam,” Oz said. He put the car back in drive and headed past the fountain towards the faculty housing.

Calliope grinned, “Oh, yeah, Maggie’s gonna blow right through that. She’ll test herself straight into a university if she’s not careful.”

Oz shrugged. “I suppose there are still some housing costs, dining plan, transportation. Mom would know.”

“Maggie can live with Mom and Dad, they’d be thrilled to have her.”

“I guess, but if she wants to keep her bicycle functional, she’ll have to hide it from Dad.”

“Hey, Melpomene, you better swing by the dining hall, Dad wanted some ice.”

“The power’s back on, Calliope.”

“Yeah, but he might’ve come up with something else to do with it by now.”

Oz sighed and put the car in reverse.

◈◈◈

Milo tried to express that he wanted to duck into the bathroom and get changed while they were filling a bucket of ice at the dining hall (it was way nicer than the dining hall at the workhouse) but nobody was paying attention. He should’ve changed at the train station but there just wasn’t time.

He was trying desperately to stay positive, but this was becoming less of a funny head injury and more of an inescapable nightmare. He found himself being propelled up a cute little stepping stone walkway through a garden towards a cottagy house, with no more time to excuse himself and let Ann navigate the introductions for him.

Gods, he wished he’d done a card for this, but he would’ve had to have been psychic. Calliope, even though you are having a fun time with your brother the lion-taming accountant, and Em, even though it is super hilarious that the school is pink, I need you to notice how not-okay I am with the way this is proceeding and let me go!

But there was no way to tell them.

Calliope doesn’t think her parents are scary, she just loves them. I have to be normal and do that too.

Milo, you are setting this bar so much higher than it needs to be…

There was a potted plant on either side of the door. An auburn-haired woman in a tweed dress and jacket appeared from behind the plant on the left and said, “Answer our riddles.”

Oz growled and dropped the ice bucket. “Damn it, Mom and Dad said not to drop the whole family on them at once! What are you doing here?”

An identical auburn-haired woman in a tweed dress and jacket emerged from behind the other potted plant and said, “Asking riddles.”

“Social experiment,” said the first auburn-haired woman.

“Novel stimuli,” said the other.

“Not to me, it’s not!” Oz said.

Both women grinned at Calliope. They darted in front of the door and held each other’s hands. They spoke in unison: “Let’s play the ‘Which One Is Terpsichore?’ Game! Yay!”

Calliope pointed. “On the left. Did you bring Helix and Sigma, Polyhymnia?”

The women appeared disappointed, but only slightly. “Yes,” said the one on the right. “And Hector. They’re in the backyard feeding the parakeets.”

“Can I show them Lucy and sit down or do you need me to work my way through a maze with a ball of string or something?

Terpsichore and Polyhymnia exchanged a glance. “Oh, go on,” said Terpsichore.

“Welcome home, Calliope,” said Polyhymnia. She held open the door. Oz ducked past, grumbling.

“Lucy is cute,” said Terpsichore.

“Your boyfriend is cute,” said Polyhymnia. “We should dye our hair that colour, Terpsichore.”

“Answer our riddles,” Terpsichore said, to Milo. He hunched his shoulders and scuttled past them, gazing at the floor.

Ann, I can’t meet Calliope’s parents with a concussion. I’m going to make a fool of myself.

Milo, I am, like, seventy-five percent sure this place is just weird, okay? It’s not you! Doesn’t that make you feel better?

No.

“Answer our riddles,” Polyhymnia said, to Mordecai.

“All right, I’m game,” he replied, smiling. “I’m already acquainted with the thing that walks on four legs in the morning, so you might have to get a little more modern.”

“There is a house…” said one.

“One enters blind and comes out seeing,” said the other.

“What is it?” said both.

“It’s rosé pink because your grandfather made a mistake on a form,” Mordecai replied. He bowed to them in passing. “Ladies.”

The twins exchanged another glance. “We like him.”

“Yes. We shall devour him last.”

◈◈◈

Milo froze in the entryway (it was tiled, with a step down into a carpeted room) and tried to very subtly turn around so he could make certain the identical women were just kidding about eating them. He didn’t get a chance.

A man wearing a pink silk dressing gown and matching slippers started shaking his hand and talking to him. He had bright blue eyes framed in gleaming gold spectacles and a mop of blond hair with silver threads in it. “And you must be Milo! Calliope’s told me so much about you!”

“Dad,” said Calliope, tightly.

The man bowed and smiled disarmingly. “I do apologize. I understand you’re a bit shy. We don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. This is your home too. Please take as much time as you need. You must be Milo’s father!”

Milo had quite forgotten about the twins wanting to eat him. He stared at the wall. There was a latch-hooked rug with a leopard hanging on it. Was that man sparkling?

Mordecai was having his hand shaken.

“I, uh, that’s, ah…” It wasn’t so much the longer hair — Mordecai had longer hair himself, that was an intellectual thing. It was the kimono-style dressing gown with embroidered dragons and the attitude that went with it. This was not an outfit he would expect a man of his generation, even an academic one, to receive guests in.

This person is my age, isn’t he? Maybe a little younger?

“You, uh, don’t mean that literally, do you, Mr. Otis?”

“Not biological, Dad,” Calliope said.

“Oh, princess,” Stephen said. “Does he have another one you never told us about?”

“No, he grew up in a workhouse.”

“Milo is an orphan?” Stephen said, eyes widening.

Calliope waggled a hand. “Eh, in a legal sense.”

Calliope’s father turned to address a short woman with a dark bob haircut.

Now she must be my age, thought Mordecai, because bobbed hair hasn’t been “in” since the revolution.

She was wearing a white men’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of khaki trousers, which Mordecai also found out of place on a person of his generation — if more quietly so.

Honestly, he didn’t mean to be racist here, but a pink silk dressing gown with embroidered dragons would’ve suited her a bit better. And he didn’t mean to be sexist, but he wouldn’t have minded looking at her in it.

“Rin!” cried the man who insisted upon wearing it instead. He indicated Milo with both hands like a game show presenter. “Let’s adopt him!”

Ah, thought Mordecai. I suppose it’s a bit more reasonable than her full name, yes. Bravo, Mr. Otis, it even sounds Wakokuhito.

Rinswell Soap Flakes-Otis sighed and tipped back her head. “Stephen, Calliope doesn’t want us to adopt her boyfriend.”

“But he looks sad!” Stephen declared.

This person and I have had vastly different life-experiences, Mordecai decided.

Milo shrank back against the wall and hid behind Ann’s suitcase.

“Ann wouldn’t mind being adopted later, but Milo doesn’t need it,” Calliope said. “He isn’t sad because he’s an orphan, he’s sad because you’re scaring the hell out of him, so cut it out.” She nudged her father in the ribs, hard. “He’s got plenty of family back home who love him and Em and me and Lucy do, too, just none of them are real on paper. Kind of a pseudo-common-law setup, if you get me, Mom.”

Rinswell nodded. “I doubt it would hold up in court, but from an emotional standpoint, it’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah, we incorporated back home, but that was more of a birthday present…”

“This is your home,” both Stephen and Oz declared in the same offended tone.

“We’ve decentralized, you two,” Rinswell said. “Home is where our family is, and we’ve got branches all over the globe.”

“Kind of a franchise,” Calliope added with a grin

Rinswell smiled. “I’ll draw you up a license if you want one, Calliope. After I get done fixing that sweater.”

Calliope snickered and ducked her head. “I don’t like to fix it myself ’cos I know I’ll get home eventually and you’ll do it better.”

Milo looked briefly stung. I would’ve learned how to fix it perfect if you said you wanted it. But he decided this was less a critique of his clothing skills and more affection for her family.

Stephen seemed mollified by her use of “home” in this context; Oz seemed no less annoyed, but he was standing in an entryway holding a bucket of ice that he had no idea what to do with. “Dad…” he began.

“I’m just so glad Calliope has made so many wonderful new friends in San Rosille!” Stephen plowed over him. “You and Mr. Rose especially have been such a great help to her while her mother and I couldn’t be there. You’re not trying to replace us, are you? Ha, ha!” He winked.

“Stephen,” Rinswell said.

“What?” He looked wounded.

“Let’s try and lower it to about an eight, okay? At least around Mr. Rose and the baby.”

Calliope had given the baby to her twin sisters and was removing the sweater to give to her mother. One of the identical women held Lucy up to examine her in the light as the other scribbled frantically in a leather-bound notebook. Lucy sneezed and the woman holding her grinned. “Quick, Terpsichore! Get a slide!”

Stephen leaned in and put his beaming face right next to the baby. “My second-generation princess is the most adorable thing ever and we just want to cover her in kisses — but we’re not going to because she had a big day on the train and she probably needs a little breaky-poo.” He straightened and looked over his shoulder. “How was first class, Calliope? I hope you had enough room to get a little rest, but if you want a nap before dinner, that’s perfectly…”

“Sorry, Dad. They wouldn’t let Em ride in first, so we had to trade tickets and go in third. It was okay.”

Stephen’s expression cratered like a kicked puppy. “Why wouldn’t they let him ride in first class? Are you too poor? We would’ve wired you the money, all you have to do is call!”

“No, it’s because he’s coloured.”

“What?”

Rinswell sighed and rolled her eyes. “Calliope, why don’t we just get you…”

“TRAINS ARE RACIST?”

Milo had not exactly been running laps around the living room, but he froze up again. He wanted to express his agreement but he had no idea how to get it across. It didn’t seem like Calliope’s father was willing to slow down and listen to anyone, anyway.

“This is intolerable! If trains are going to be racist, they have to warn people! My entire extended family is going to begin boycotting Marselline Consolidated Rail this very instant! Wait! I know! I’ll start a petition! Rin, how does one start a petition?”

“Dad, for gods’ sakes, where do you want this ice?” Oz called over.

Stephen waved a hand. “Just put it in the kitchen next to the sea monkeys, princess.”

Oz groaned and stamped away.

“Stephen-senpai,” Rin said, “Oz does not want to be a princess anymore.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m a little distracted by Marselline Consolidated Rail trying to ruin my poor little Calliope’s whole vacation! This is supposed to be a happy place!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Milo saw the identical women tiptoeing past the window outside. They had already returned Lucy, backed out of the house, and shut the door, unnoticed.

“You call your son princess?” Mordecai said, staring.

Stephen was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. “They’re all princesses.”

Rin smiled. “It’s just really hard to gender nine different short people with black hair in an emergency, Mr. Eidel. They didn’t mind it when they were little, but my husband’s a bit of a scatterbrain.”

“A bit,” Mordecai allowed.

“I don’t know why they all have to be in such a hurry to grow up,” Stephen muttered.

Calliope put an arm around his waist and squeezed. “I’m trying to grow up a little as possible, Dad.” She stood on her tiptoes. Her head barely came up to his shoulder.

“I appreciate that, princess, thank you. I missed you so much!”

“Stephen, why don’t you go in the kitchen and show Oz that new thing you got him for the car?”

Calliope kicked her mother, but Rin subtly shook her head.

Stephen clasped his hands. “Would you like a gasoline conversion gasket for your car, Mr. Eidel? They ship very fast!”

Milo hazarded a glance and a half a step towards the sparkly man. A what now?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Otis, I don’t have a car.”

“A bicycle?” Stephen said eagerly. “I have a whole drawer of fun things for bicycles!”

Mordecai shook his head. “Sorry, no bicycle.”

“Do you chop a lot of vegetables?”

“Stephen,” Rin said, “don’t forget Oz.”

The man in the dressing gown swerved towards the kitchen. “Melpomene! Guess what?”

“No!” came the reply.

Calliope lowered her voice, “Mom, you know he has a hard time with family stuff.”

“I know, but I’ll rescue him when I’m done rescuing you.” Rin smiled and gave her a nudge. “Come on. We’ve got your rooms all set up.”

◈◈◈

Mordecai’s room was a repurposed study. Rin apologized for the rollaway bed. He assured her it was more than he was used to. She told him not to open the closet, apparently Stephen had a project in there. He followed her to Milo and Calliope’s room, noting with a laugh that his things were in Calliope’s suitcase.

It was a generic-looking guest room, with a peaceful blue and white quilt on the double bed and a few too many frills and knick-knacks to be inviting. There was a dish of potpourri on the dresser under the mirror, and a foldable crib in the corner.

There was a tiger lying on the quilt.

“Mr. Snaffles, shoo,” Rin said. She smiled at her guests. “I’m sorry, I told Stephen to lock him in the bedroom. I don’t know why I tell Stephen to do anything. You’d think I’d know better by now. Come on, Mr. Snaffles.”

She picked up the tiger. This was easily accomplished, as it was a little less than three feet long, including the tail. It had a pushed-in face like one of those miserable little lapdogs and a single snaggled tooth poking out against its upper lip. “You’re not allergic, are you, Mr. Rose? Mr. Eidel? He doesn’t shed.”

“Allergic to tigers?” said Mordecai.

“Mr. Snaffles has a rare genetic disorder, Mr. Eidel,” Rin said, frowning.

The tiger gave a low, desperate grunt and emitted a foot-long streamer of drool, which Rin caught with a hand.

Milo backed into the dresser and knocked over the potpourri, trying to get out of the way.

“This is a kitty-cat,” Rin said. “You don’t have to flip out.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said Mordecai, “but that is not a kitty-cat with any kind of disorder known to mankind, that is an illegal magically modified tiger. If your husband bought that, you need to return it and get your money back before somebody calls the police.”

Rin took a step towards him, “Hey, are you about to narc on my kitty-cat, pal?”

Calliope slid in between them and put up her hand. “Em isn’t a narc, Mom. Are you, Em?”

“No, I am not a narc, but I really need to hear someone acknowledge that this animal is a tiger! Please. For my own mental health, Mrs. Otis.”

“It’s not his fault,” said Rinswell Soap Flakes-Otis. She put the tiger against her shoulder, where it continued to snort and drool. “He didn’t ask to be made this way. We did this to him. He deserves as comfortable a life as we’re able to give him, but they didn’t have any more room at the shelter and they were supposed to destroy him. He is domesticated. He thinks he’s a normal kitty-cat, and he’s not suffering. It’s just a little hard for him to breathe.”

“I feel for him, Mrs. Otis,” Mordecai said. “But… Oh, my gods.” He staggered and bumped into Milo, who was trying to pick up each individual unit of potpourri. “Melpomene got bitten by a lion. You said the little ones are in a box in his office, Calliope. Not the baby ones, the little ones. Your brother got bitten by a lion like that?”

“The baby ones are called cubs, Em,” Calliope said. “Did you think I didn’t know that? My brother works for a cat shelter.”

Mordecai began coughing into his sleeve. He sat down on the bed.

The tiger snorted.

He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t think it was a good idea to allow himself to do so. Also, it was very hard to stop coughing.

Calliope gave Lucy to Milo and sat down on the bed. “It’s hard for Em to breathe, too, Mom. He’s adjusting to the altitude.”

Oh, my gods, is that what I’m adjusting to? thought Mordecai, with tears streaming from his eyes.

“I’ll get him a glass of water, I’ll be right back,” Rin said.

Exit the lady, and the tiger.

“Kii,” Lucy noted to Milo. Milo shook his head. He kicked over Ann’s suitcase and undid the latches. He hauled out the stuffed animal and bounced it in front of Lucy’s face. No! Here’s Miss Kitty, Lu!

“Kii,” Lucy agreed, but she sounded disappointed.

◈◈◈

Milo checked the available crib for obvious hazards, and then pasted a quick repel charm on it so Lucy couldn’t chew on the bars — just in case they were toxic. He deposited her inside and desperately held up Ann’s dress. He couldn’t change in here, Mordecai was still trying to breathe. Calliope understood what he wanted; she found him a bathroom and he got changed with time to spare for dinner.

Mordecai had a glass of water delivered, and then a pot of green tea and some cookies. A short while later, Calliope’s mother apologetically presented him with a “Get Well Soon” card, wrought by a child with far less skill than Erik. He was represented as a large red crayon scribble. An adult with a pen had written the “Get Well Soon” part.

So Helix and Sigma are not dogs, Mordecai thought. There had been some speculation over this at chez Hyacinth, but it had seemed a rude question to ask. I suppose we can’t rule out their being great apes or magically modified elephants.

“They just want to be included,” Rin said with a smile. “How are you doing?”

“I think I’m all right to come out, as long as you don’t want me to run laps,” he said. “What time is it?”

“About six-forty-five, you’ve got a few.” She looked pained. “We should have dinner at some point, but I have to warn you, a lot of the time we end up eating takeout from the dining hall at nine or so. After we set off the smoke alarm and cancel the fire department. Honestly, that’s the main reason we have our own phone, it’s just cheaper.”

He stood and bowed to her. “Mrs. Otis, any meal I don’t have to cook myself is a treat. But if you do burn something, I may be able to save it. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

She laughed. “Oh, no. I don’t cook.”

◈◈◈

“I just adore gadgets!” Stephen Otis declared. “Poor people can’t afford servants, so they come up with the cleverest things! I’m really enjoying ‘living within my means’!”

“Well, that’s very interesting, Stephen,” Ann said. “But this onion…” The onion half — which she had sliced with a conventional knife and then obligingly inserted into the Qwick Chop, as per Mr. Otis’s instructions — had become lodged inside and was not going to come out again without some magical intervention. It certainly was in no condition to be qwickly chopped.

“Oh, that’s all right, just throw that away.” Before she could protest, he had engaged the step trash can and tossed the Qwick Chop and the onion half inside. She noted, with a pang, that there was a cracked cutting board and what looked to be an entire blender in there. “I’ve got lots more! I buy extras so I can give them as gifts!”

“It seems like it would be so much easier to just use a knife…”

“Don’t give up on it, Ann! Italica wasn’t built in a day!”

“I suppose, but how long have you been attempting to cook this meatloaf?”

“Only since five o’clock this morning! It’s Calliope’s favourite!”

Oz nudged her and said, “Give me that and I’ll cut it up in the living room. I’ll pour that instant coffee in the ficus if you don’t want it. That’s where I pour mine.”

“Oh, no, thank you. It’s lovely.” Ann bravely sipped her instant mud.

“It is, isn’t it?” Stephen said. “You can’t tell the difference at all, and it’s so much faster. I have more time to cook! Rin introduced me to it back when we were both still going to school here. I won’t have any other kind in the house!”

“Mm-hm,” Ann said.

Ann, give me ten minutes alone with that blender and I’ll fix it. And the Qwick Chop!

Please, Milo. I need all my attention to respond coherently to Calliope’s father.

“I’ll have to show you my closetful of mushrooms! I ordered them off the back of a comic book, like my sea monkeys! Terpsichore says they’re only brine shrimp, but why shouldn’t brine shrimp build tiny cities and raise their families in peace? That’s just the difference between me and her, I have faith in the unseen!” He dropped another chunk of ice in the tank. “I imagine they’re learning how to ski right now!”

“Well, that’s just lovely, dear. Yes.”

◈◈◈

Oz appeared in the living room with a cutting board and half an onion.

Rin put a hand on his hand and stopped him. “Hon, if you do it like that, he’s going to think that dumb gadget works and you’re going to get one for Yule. Just be firm with him.”

“I don’t have the energy,” Oz said.

Rin took the onion from him. On her way to the kitchen, she bumped into a potted plant, which shivered and dropped several leaves. “Geez, this poor tree. I don’t know what else to do for it.”

“Buy it better coffee,” Oz muttered.

“I guess the grounds are supposed to be good for it…”

“Definitely.”

“…But your father’s sentimental.” She departed with a frown, holding up the onion half. “Hey, Stephen, we have company! Are you going to make dinner or screw around?”

Lucy was corralled in the sunken area with the help of a couple baby gates. These were also somewhat curtailing the motion of a pair of three-year-old twin boys, one of whom was content to sit on the couch and play a book of match-three puzzles. The other had selected a wooden car from a basket of assorted toys.

Lucy was getting in some exercise, with mild parental supervision, as Calliope compared notes with her sister Polyhymnia in the adjacent family room. Polyhymnia’s husband, Hector, was watching the kids. Or just desperate for any excuse not to help in the kitchen, it was hard to tell. He had as much apparent personality as a slice of dry white toast, but Milo was rather like that at first glance too. Terpsichore was reading a book.

Mordecai had been introduced to this situation a few minutes ago and was uncertain where he fit socially. He also did not wish to help in the kitchen, but he knew he’d end up in there eventually, if only because that’s where the phone was.

There was a tray of instant coffee on the coffee table, a case of blatant false advertising. Only Rin had consumed any, with four sugars.

The tiger was sitting in a chair, drooling. Oz picked it up and put it on his lap.

Mordecai detected an in and pounced on it, “What’s it like working with Carolina Bow?” With hindsight, that was rather unsubtle, but he couldn’t take it back now.

“Depressing. Just look at this poor animal.” Oz lifted the tiger. “He doesn’t even have teeth. One tooth. One. He doesn’t shed. It just evaporates. Whoever did this didn’t think for two seconds about whether all these new pieces would work together to create a functional, happy tiger, they just wanted one they could own. They shoot the parents and steal the cubs and mess them up like this, or just force them to grow up tame so they can never go back to the wild.

“Miss Bow has a cheetah with anxiety,” he added, with a sigh. “I mean, they all have anxiety, but this one is so bad it lives with her. It sleeps with her. She takes it for walks, and she’s always having to tell people it’s not a fun pet. They put her on the Tea Party wall with the cheetah and she’s trying to get them to paint over it. Wild animals should be left alone.”

Gods, please turn me into a cheetah with anxiety, thought Mordecai. “I suppose some people can’t help themselves,” he said. That was a much more normal thing to say. “And all it takes is one.”

“I used to want a pet tiger and then I turned nine,” Oz said acidly. He addressed the tiger, “I still want you, Mr. Snaffles. It’s not your fault. Poor little stripey baby. But you ought to be a normal tiger with a normal life in Gunda-Priya. Not a vegetarian like on the mainland. No sir, not you.”

The tiger snorted.

“I understand they hire accountants in places where they don’t have to keep a box of miniature big cats in their office,” Mordecai offered him. If this guy went around putting his face right up next to unpredictable altered wild animals like that, it was no wonder he got bitten by a lion.

“There’s a nonprofit in the Aztecs I’d love to work for, but things are bad for kitties all over.” The accountant was absently examining the tiger’s toes. “Did you know ocelots are functionally extinct right now? They’re a charismatic species, so obviously someone is going to put them back, but we’ve got no control over when or how. The regulations…”

“Ah. So, you’re not really interested in transitioning away from the cats, say, via banking…?”

“This is my dream job,” said the man with the tiger, sadly. “I’m cats and numbers and she’s birds and history. We’re diversified.”

“Er, right. Well, that… That must be extremely depressing, yes. As you’ve said.” Gods, he was really off his game. It was the train ride combined with hypoxia and a gorgeous actress. Did Oz say Carolina Bow liked birds and history?

“Only on birthdays and holidays,” Oz said. “You’ve got to figure a ratite would win a fight with most big cats, excepting the kiwi, of course…”

Mordecai was beginning to suspect they were having two different conversations, neither of which he understood. Before he could ask for clarification, Rin popped her head out of the noisy kitchen with a smile. “Mr. Eidel? Phone.”

◈◈◈

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m thrilled you’re having a good time at home,” Ann was saying, receiver in hand. “No, he’s just fine. Here he is now! He was just in the living room playing with the tiger.” Ann had been about to hand over the phone, but she paused. “No, a real tiger. I’ll let him explain.”

Mordecai put the receiver to his ear with a wince and, as expected, got yelled at by the faint voice of an eight-year-old boy who wanted to play with a tiger too. “Thank you, Ann,” he managed, without enough irony to get her to notice he was being sarcastic. He tried to explain to Erik that the tiger was extremely depressing. Also that, yes, he was fine. No, hardly any trouble with the altitude at all.

“And how are you, dear one?” He fumbled the receiver and almost dropped it in the tank of sea monkeys. “Erik,” he said. “Please explain how you mean ‘liberating the means of production from the tyranny of capitalism’ right now, or hand the phone to someone who can. Ah. Ah-ha. Okay. I see. No, of course you may, I just wanted to be sure what was involved. Oh? Uh-huh. That does seem like a lot of fun.”

Ann mouthed “what” at him. He covered the mouthpiece and shook his head. “Huh? Yes, Calliope is fine too. She’s in the living room with Lucy. Do you want to talk to her? No. I’m sure it’s fine. Can I talk to Auntie Hyacinth for a second? Okay.” He nodded against the phone, smiling.

A moment later, he clutched the receiver in both hands and shouted into it, “Erik is not a metal detector! What? No, I understand that. No, of course you can entertain the boy, but couldn’t you do something sane like go to a movie? Okay. Okay. No, it is your fault because I left you in charge! Well, if you’re in charge all the time then everything is your fault, isn’t it? What is he yelling back there? Oh, gods…

“No, of course there’s no helping it now, but I’m still irritated with you. If you can’t help this woman he’s going to be very upset and I’m not there to help him. No, I do not trust you. I leave you alone with him for a few hours and you’ve got him yelling ‘Hackers of the world unite’ in a drugstore where people can hear him. I don’t know, but I was just explaining to Calliope how everyone flips out when coloured people act oddly. She’s fine. What, don’t you trust me? Just put Erik back on, damn it.”

He smiled again. “Hello, dear one. No, everything is just fine. I promise. I love you too. Not too much soda, okay? Kiss goodnight, I’ll save up all the real ones and give them to you when we get home. Promise. Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll be here. Yes, I’m having lots of fun. You have fun too. Bye-bye.” He hung up the phone with a sigh, then a cough.

“Oh, so cute!” Stephen said tearfully, clasping hands bedecked with minced onion. “How old is he?”

“Eight, Mr. Otis.”

“Em, what’s going on?” Ann said.

He darted a finger at the phone. “I’m not gone for ten minutes and the General demands an introduction to your friend Lola so she can modify the stone arm of some woman I’ve never heard of, and Lola doesn’t even know how to work stone! Hyacinth failed to put the brakes on this and Erik is emotionally invested, so now they’re trying to find Florian to help. Only he’s not in the phone book, so the only way they can find him is to shake Erik like a piñata and hope some relevant information falls out. They’re going to ride the bus around town all day tomorrow and see if anything happens.”

He paled. “Oh, dear gods, I’m weirder than Ansalem.”

“I didn’t get a word of that,” Stephen said. “Would you like to try explaining again?”

“Just cook, Stephen,” Rin said.

“Is that supposed to be meatloaf?” Mordecai said.

“Yes!”

The red man gazed into the living room, where more peculiar people were engaged in activities he understood even less. “Let me help you with it.”

Stephen applauded. “Yay!”

◈◈◈

Between the three of them, they managed to turn out a meatloaf dinner with a salad and rolls in just under forty-five minutes, with no further broken gadgets.

Mordecai grimly helped deliver it to the dining table, which the twin boys had set according to their own internal logic, and braced himself for more chaos. He promised himself he was not going to make any remarks, he would just let it flow around him like a stone in a stream.

He noted the Lu-ambulator waiting beside the table and scolded himself, You don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to weird, so just can it, Morph.

Stephen and Rin held hands and bowed their heads. Ann and Mordecai followed suit… and none of the other seven people at the table bothered. They didn’t even offer to hold hands. Half of them, including Calliope, were reading books. There was a shelf of them against the wall. The boy with the match-three puzzles was still plugging away on an enchanted page with one finger. 

Ann glanced at Mordecai and shrugged.

Nobody was talking. The clock on the mantle in the living room was audible. There was a basket of small toys in the middle of the table. Stephen took one. Rin stared out the window. The boy without the puzzle book said, “Toy, Mommy,” softly. She passed him the basket and let him pick one. Hector silently ate meatloaf with a spoon; the boys had set his place with four spoons and he didn’t seem inclined to ask his wife for one of her forks.

“It’s very good, Stephen,” Ann said. “Family recipe?”

He smiled at her. “Thank you. Yes.”

This failed to result in more talking.

“Is that one of those little metal puzzles they like to give out at the drugstore for free? Milo likes those too!”

Calliope nudged her. “Ann, cut it out.”

Ann’s smile faded. She lowered her voice and leaned in, “I’m sorry, Calliope, I don’t understand this. What am I doing wrong?”

Rin swallowed a bite of meatloaf and clicked her tongue. “Calliope. You gave us directions for Ann and Milo but you forgot to give them directions for us. You take after your father sometimes, I swear. That’s what I get for falling asleep nursing and dropping you.”

Calliope looked chagrined, but it seemed more polite than sincere. Her mom would claim to have dropped whoever messed up most recently. It would be somebody else in a little while. Calliope accepted her turn with quiet grace.

“I’m sorry, Ann, Mr. Eidel,” Rin said. “This started when I used to study for law school at the table. I let them opt out of helping me if they wanted, majority rule. It just sort of grew into opting out of talking. Polyhymnia and Hector do it at their home too. Helix is kinda shy and Sigma doesn’t like to talk to strangers at all, so they don’t feel left out and they can just eat like human beings. If you want to talk, I have a card table we can set up in the family room. I’m sure Stephen will join you.” She smiled.

“I’ll eat where Calliope’s eating,” Stephen said fondly.

Ann was shaking her head. “You haven’t seen Calliope in over a year and your twin daughters are visiting all the way from Vignoble and you’re all just going to sit here and eat without talking?”

“But she doesn’t want to,” Stephen said. He pointed to the book.

“Yeah, universal signal, Ann,” Calliope said. “I’ve been talking since we got here, I need a break.” She lifted the book and turned a page.

“We’ll split up after dinner,” Rin said. “Family room is for talking, living room is for a break. I should really put some signs up, except the faculty already think Stephen’s weird. Poor guy. When I retire, I’ll learn to make homey signs in needlepoint like a good grandma,” she mused.

“You’re already a wonderful grandma,” Stephen said.

Rin stood up. “Do you want the card table? It’s all right. We don’t mind.”

Oz raised a hand. “I don’t mind the record player if the quiet is freaking you out. Majority rule?” The table voted for the presence of a record player. “Motion carries, I’ll get it.” He left without asking to be excused.

Ann planted both hands on the table and stood too. “I’m going to get Milo right now!”

◈◈◈

Milo enjoyed his first meal ever with nobody trying to look at him or talk to him, and he got a toy to play with.

Mordecai stared at his plate the whole time.

So it was a new experience for both of them.

Afterwards, they split up with dessert and coffee. Mordecai planted himself firmly in the family room with people who were willing to act a bit closer to how he felt people ought to act. Rin sat next to him and monitored his wellbeing with a smile, offering occasional tea. Milo and Stephen followed Calliope wherever she wanted to be, like a couple of lovesick puppies. Polyhymnia, Hector and Terpsichore played Conquest. The kids played on the living room floor with the tiger. It was at once hauntingly domestic and totally alien.

Mordecai gratefully accepted when Rinswell Soap Flakes finished setting up the cots for the twin boys in the living room and asked if he would like to turn in early too. It was only nine o’clock, but Milo and Calliope had expressed a desire to join a new game of Conquest, and Lucy’s grandparents seemed perfectly capable of looking after her, if not behaving like normal human beings in any other way. He had a book of his own and he didn’t feel right reading it when every sense he had told him he ought to be socializing. He would read in bed and unwind there.

Besides, there was going to be a party tomorrow and he was going to meet even more of this insane damn family. He needed whatever sleep he could get.

And if there was even the teeny-tiniest possibility he might meet Carolina Bow and her anxious cheetah at some point, he wanted to look rested and nice.