“All right, all right,” Arevio said, waving vir hands. “Squell Urizus is correct, we should . . . shall we just . . . may I ask this? External judgements of this cohort’s parenting are one thing, but what about our own internal consensus? Does it bother any of you that Fift Brulio was wandering around the below and behind looking to get involved with the Clowns’ spectacle, with, for Kumru’s sake, a Ticket in zir hand?”

Everyone pointedly avoided looking at Pip.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Thurm said. “You can’t coddle and protect a child zir whole life. Ze has to be able to win zir own claim at some point.”

“But Thurm,” Squell said uncomfortably, “zir whole life? Ze’s not even out of First Childhood. Ze’s not some eighty-year-old vailchild adventurer looking for a duel. If I’m to be honest . . . I didn’t say anything before . . . but actually I don’t really see why being in the thick of a riot is necessary training for a banker-historian. It’s more likely to be traumatic than encouraging.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Frill said, leaning back into vir harness again. “Ze’s shaken up, and no wonder, but just look at zir brains; you can see”—ve squinted—“perfectly well ze’s not traumatized . . .”

“Frill,” Squell said, “ze’s still getting second-order elevated amygdalic response every time we refer to the riot. Not to mention—”

“Only in the body that was actually in the riot!” Frill said.

“Are we still entirely sure we want Fift Brulio here for this . . . ?” Arevio asked.

“Well, that’s not a good sign, is it?” Squell said. “Zir intersomatic synchronization is at an all-time low, and you know that was something the specialists told us to watch out for. You really do need to spend more time with yourself, Fift.”

“Squell Urizus—” Arevio said.

“If I avoided everything,” Pip growled, “that gave me an elevated amygdalic response, I would still be doing the accounts of sisterless sluice operators in Undersnort.”

Several Fathers glared at Pip, probably for the epithet “sisterless”; Fift pretended not to notice.

“This meeting is hopelessly off topic,” Smistria said, rocking forward on vir stool. “If it ever had a topic. As I have said in the past, I don’t understand why we don’t impose some structure to our meetings and let Pip and Grobbard . . .”

“Oh, not this again,” Frill said, covering one of vir faces with vir hands.

“I don’t know, Frill,” Squell said. “I mean, I’m sorry, but if there’s one thing Staids know how to do . . .”