In the eating room, zir eyes hurt. Ze was tired. Ze sat down and a creaking harness swung over to wrap itself around zir, supporting zir weight. “Yeah,” Fift said. “That’s why. I didn’t do what you said.”

“It was one question, Fift. Ve only needed to hear the direct, actual question; Do you apologize for intentionally striking me? Ve would have cracked open like a ripe nut.” Pip folded zir sleeve and carefully cleaned the corners of zir mouth with it. “Instead, we have exposed ourselves to more danger, more risk of censure. We cannot be seen to be . . . playing along . . . with these miscreants.”

“I know,” Fift said.

They sat in silence for a few moments, and stood in silence in the elevator.

The bright red, blue, and yellow fish who was Shria turned, flourishing its billowing tail, and was suddenly Hrotrun—brown, spindled, deep, and menacing—in a thick and muddy sea.

“Well,” said Pip at last, shaking zir head in the eating room. “One down, two to go.”

Chapter 14

14

A knock on the doorjamb, and then another.

Father Squell’s voice: “Wake up, little cubblehedge.”

Fift opened one body’s eyes. Ze’d been sleeping in two bodies at once—which ze didn’t usually do—and coming awake was jarring. Ze faltered on the staircase down to Undersnort, resting a hand on the railing, dizzy for a moment.

The weight of zir arm on zir other chest; of zir leg across zir other two shins.

Ze rolled aside, putting blankets and stale air between zir bodies.

In front of zir, Pip descended, implacably.

Squell poked a head into the room. “Hello, Fift dear. I’m sorry to wake you. You’ve been asleep since—well, you must have been exhausted.”

Ze’d been resisting the temptation to look at Shria over the feed. If Shria wanted a break, for them to keep away from each other, fine . . . and as Fift had followed zir silent Mother down the bright white whispermarble stairs, ze’d been able to hold back. Shria had public locations listed now: ve and vir friends had come out of the ludatorium. But so what? Ze had zir own life. Ze didn’t need to watch Shria over the feed.

Except now ze did. It was different, lying awake in the other two bodies . . . sluggish and vulnerable, flushed from too-warm sleep, the ghost of zir limbs’ pressure lingering against zir skin. Remembering how Shria had embraced zir in the middle of the riot. Vir hard arms pressing zir to vir soft breasts. The beating of vir heart.