Fift lingered by Smistria’s side in one body and went ahead down the hall in another. Back on the wiggly seating dome, ze dug zir toes in the moss, and Frill said, “Almost done, Fift. Don’t fidget.”

Father Arevio sighed, brushing off vir hands. “All right. I’ll change. I must admit, I am not terribly fond of these affairs.”

Smistria snorted. “Who is? We have to sit outside in the gallery, cooped up, gawking at each other’s outfits and taking offense—I swear, more mat challenges are issued at First Gates of Logic than any other time!—while they pass spoons and . . . well, whatever it is that they do in there . . .”

“It’s easy, Father Smistria,” Fift said. “All you have to do is . . .”

“Fift Brulio Iraxis!” Arevio said, coming forward.

“You stop right there, Fift!” Father Smistria said. “Do not say one word to us about the . . . about that.”

Fift swallowed. Ze must have looked scared because Father Arevio said gently, “it’s all right, Fift Brulio.”

“But it’s nothing bad,” Fift said.

“Of course it’s not bad,” Father Arevio said.

“Obviously!” Father Smistria said. “But you don’t talk about it with us.”

“Don’t let your Father Smistria worry you, Fiftling,” Father Frill said, in the little atrium, rubbing Fift’s head. “There’s nothing at all wrong with the Long Conversation.” Ve said the words with emphasis, like ve was showing that ve wasn’t embarrassed to say it out loud. “It’s very important. It’s at the heart of everything. And you’re going to be just fine. It’s just that Staid things are Staid things and Vail things are Vail things. You wouldn’t want to watch us fight on the mats, would you?”

“No.” Fift didn’t like the idea of zir parents angry and hitting. The mats sounded scary and strange. On the other hand . . . what if ze could sneak in and watch, with no one knowing? Just to see. Ze probably would. Still, ‘no’ was definitely the right answer.

“Well there you are,” Frill said. “It’s the same sort of thing.”

Arevio and Smistria went upstairs. Fift stood in the supper garden watching a golden cloud of spice-gnats hover around the vines and smelling their warm, cozy, tingly smell.

All it was going to be, this time, was sitting still and waiting to be passed a spoon, and saying “the spoon is in my hand,” and passing it on at the right moment, and telling the names of the twelve cycles, the twenty modes, and the eight corpuses. The Long Conversation. You couldn’t use agents to help with anything, but that was okay, because Pip and Grobbard never let zir practice with agents anyway.

In the body down the hall, ze poked zir head into the main anteroom.