“But it’s not fair,” Fift told vem. Ze sounded like a four-year-old, like a Vail, like someone who’d never entered the First Gate of Logic, but ze couldn’t help it. Ze shouldn’t be doing this in front of the world. But Pip was wrong. How could zir Mother define zir like that, aloud, as someone undistinguished, someone useless, who could be cast out unless ze obeyed every single little—

“It is not I,” Pip said, “who is—”

“Listen to me!” Fift said in the skywhale. It was almost a shout. Ze got zir voice under control. “Listen. I accept your guidance; but not your absolute protection! I accept your—I choose you all. Okay? But not as . . . I’m not a process you can completely control. If you can’t”—ze leaned towards Pip, because ze was done flinching away—“if you can’t handle responsibility without control, then you . . . parenting was the wrong occupation to choose!”

Frill put vir face in vir hands. Squell began to wail again.

“Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Father Smistria snarled. “Just the boost our parental competence ratings needed. Do go on, Fift.”

“And do you imagine,” Pip said, cocking an eyebrow, still not looking at Fift, “that I can support an apprentice who simply refuses to comply with—”

“Fine,” Fift said. “Fine! I resign from being your apprentice!”

“Kumru’s frozen balls,” Smistria said.

Fift took a step towards the docks. There was movement down there, some kind of stir . . .

“But I don’t resign from childing all of you! Because that’s not about control, Mother Pip!”

Pip’s face was stony and unmoving.

“I just want to collapse,” Squell said. “There must be a place for me. Why can’t I go to Aristi’s Grove, or . . .”

“Squell, for void’s sake, this isn’t the time!” Frill said.

{Apologies are in order}, sent Fift’s context advisory agent, {for the preceding lacuna in functioning. To verify that recalibration is complete, please answer the following question: Did you just publicly resign from your sole official occupation during a heated public argument with your Mother, in the middle of an audience-storm and ratings collapse?}

{Yes}, Fift sent, {I did. Any suggestions?}

In the skywhale, passengers were dropping even the pretense of not looking at them. A gaunt old Staid in the row in front of them turned around in zir seat.

“Your safety . . .” Pip began.

“My safety? I’m not five years old anymore,” Fift said, “and likely to . . . to eat strange mushrooms on the surface, or . . . lose a body from—” Fift felt zirself flushing a richer shade of brown. From doing what? From running to Shria, throwing zirself in vir arms, pressing zir face to vir smooth lavender neck—

{Perhaps}, the context advisory agent sent, {You might consider going home?}

“Fift Brulio,” Father Arevio said, “You must come home. Look at your poor Father Squell! Surely we can have this conversation at home!”