“Fift, don’t go anywhere, and don’t get dirty,” Father Squell said.

“But what does matter is the outcome,” Smistria said. “The outcome affects our entire cohort!”

Father Frill—lithe and dusky-skinned with a shock of stiff copper-colored hair sweeping up from vir broad forehead, wide gray eyes, a full mouth, and a sharp chin—swept into the room. “Kumru’s whiskers, Smi,” Frill said, “is that really what you’re wearing?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Father Smistria snapped, looking down at vemself. Ve’d changed out of vir combat suit into a tight sheath made of silvery blobs that flowed and split and swelled and shivered when ve moved.

As ze passed Fift’s waiting body, Father Frill bent down and ran a hand over zir bare oiled scalp (which felt nice, but also strange, like a layer had been stripped away and there was nothing between zir and the world). Frill wore cascades of gold, silver, and crimson bells that tinkled as ve moved. Vir martial shoulder sash hung with tiny, intricately worked ceremonial knives and grenades. “For one thing, Smi, it makes your potbelly look like a newly discovered high-albedo moon,” Frill said. “For another, it’s basically gray.”

“It’s silver!” Smistria shouted.

“Oh, please, you two,” Squell said, straightening up. Now all Fift’s heads were shaved. Squell closed the depilator. “Smistria, come on, just one more scalp to oil . . .”

“You take that back about the moon,” Smistria said, “or you’ll answer for it on the mats!”

“No doubt,” Frill said, “but not this morning, because we have somewhere to be. Seriously, Smi, are you thinking at all of what’s at stake here? I’ll do the oil, you go change. Into something colorful!”

Smistria stormed out and Fift followed vem in the two bodies that were ready. In zir third body, ze was still stuck in the atrium with Frill and Squell. Frill was massaging oil into zir scalp; vir hands were smaller and smoother than Smistria’s, and ve smelled like a sharp-toothed wild hunting animal from some forest far above them, up on the surface of the world.

“I’ll give vem a high-albedo moon,” Smistria muttered as they passed the supper garden. “Arevio! Do you know what time it is? Are you planning to attend this affair with your hands covered in dirt?”

Father Arevio, doublebodied, started guiltily up from vir plants. “Well, in fact, Smistria Ishteni, I was thinking of going singlebodied . . . I’m already dressed upstairs, and . . .”

“Oh no. Oh no. If I am going doublebodied to this . . . this void-blessed sit-about,” Smistria growled, “then by Kumru’s sainted balls you are doing the same.” Father Smistria only had two bodies, like Father Nupolo—all Fift’s other parents had three or four—and Smistria hated going anywhere in both of them.