“Oh, Fift, please!” Squell said. “You must bathe, and you will not be late today! Today of all—”

“Is ze really ready for this, do you think?” Miskisk said, trying to pry Fift away from Squell, but flinching back from prying hard enough.

“Oh please, Misk,” Squell said. “Let’s not start that. Or not with me. Pip says—”

Father Smistria stuck vir head out the door of the studio. “Why are you two winding the child up?” ve barked. Ve was tall and haggard looking and had brilliant blue skin and a white beard worn in hundreds of tiny braids woven with little glittering mirrors and jewels. Ve was wearing a slick swirling combat suit that clung to vir skinny flat chest. Vir voice was higher than Father Miskisk’s, squeaky and gravelly at the same time. “This is going to be a disaster, if you give zir the impression that this is a day for racing about! Fift, you will stop this now!”

“Come on, Fift,” Miskisk said coaxingly.

“Put zir down,” Smistria said. “I cannot believe you are wrestling and flying about with a staidchild who in less than three hours—”

“Oh, give it a rest, Smi,” Miskisk said, sort of threateny. Ve turned away from Fift and Squell and towards Smistria. Smistria stepped fully out into the corridor, putting vir face next to Miskisk’s. It got like thunder between them, but Fift knew they wouldn’t hit each other. Grown-up Vails only hit each other on the mats. Still, ze hugged Squell closer—one body squished against vir soft chest, one body hugging Squell’s leg, one body pulling back through the doorway—squeezed all zir eyes shut, and dimmed the house feed so ze couldn’t see that way either.

Behind zir eyes Fift could only see the pale blue gowns. It was just like in zir dream! Ze’d lost zir gowns, and would have to go wearing bells like Father Frill! Ze shuddered. “I don’t want my gowns to be in the compost,” ze said, as reasonably as ze could manage.

“Oh, will you shut up about the gowns!” Squell said. “No one cares about your gowns!”

“That’s not true,” Miskisk boomed, shocked.

“It is true,” Smistria said, “and—”

Fift could feel a sob ballooning inside. Ze tried to hold it in, but it grew and grew and—

“Beloveds,” said Father Grobbard.

Fift opened zir eyes. Father Grobbard had come silently, singlebodied, up the corridor, to stand behind Squell. Ze was shorter than Miskisk and Smistria, the same height as Squell, but more solid: broad and flat like a stone. When Father Grobbard stood still, it looked like ze would never move again. Zir shift was plain and simple and white. Zir skin was a mottled creamy brown with the same fine golden fuzz of hair everywhere, even on top of zir head.

“Grobby!” Squell said. “We are trying to get zir ready, but it’s quite—”