Merro Tree by Katie Waitman

Author:Katie Waitman [Waitman, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, General
ISBN: 9780345414366
Google: n2bZAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0345414365
Publisher: ‎Del Rey
Published: 1997-08-30T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen: The Invitation

It was a torrid Tenth Day holiday afternoon in the Season of Fruit, and die insects were thick in the steaming gardens of Mikk’s Wynt home. Nevertheless, the corridor was cool and shadowy as Briin, Mikk’s young butler and household manager—and a would-be actor—quickly padded along the tiles toward die hearth room. An important letter had come over the telewave.

However, when he got to the hearth room, the door panel was shut and, judging by the muffled thumps and sighs that escaped this attempt at secrecy, Mikk and Thissizz were engaged in intimate exercises.

Briin dutifully positioned himself next to the door panel, ear close to its smooth white surface, and waited for something to crash. When something did, he took a moment or two to interpret the sound, pensively rubbing his short round nose, then flipped open his notebook and shook the ink in his stylus.

“Let’s see,” he said in the fussy accent that belied his upbringing on a cargo flatboat with fifteen siblings. “ ‘Ti-tok, Vine Dynasty ewer: insured.’ Dear me, there goes another one. ‘Crystal: replaceable,’ lucky for us.” He stuck the stylus in the dense brown curls that lapped against his ear and listened stoically for the next drop in inventory.

Mikk emerged a couple hours later, hair in disarray, but lavender eyes glowing with private satisfaction. The performance master was just shy of his half millennium, in what Vyzanians called the True and Beautiful Life. Rumor had it he had started to live backward, which was why he didn’t seem to age.

Briin pocketed his notebook and helped put to rights his employer’s woefully mangled garments. He didn’t believe in the rumors. He was more inclined to believe in the beneficial effects of these bouts with a full-grown Droos. They would keep a Garplen lean and feisty.

“Sir, you might consider a separate room for yourself and Thissizz, one without furnishings.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Briin! I wonder why I never thought of it myself.”

Perhaps you enjoy the sound of breaking objects, Briin mused.

“By die way, sir, this came while you were occupied.” The house manager handed Mikk the sheet of cellulose. ‘It is not from a fan.”

Mikk quickly skimmed the small, tight outworld type, nothing like the wild squiggling dance of Vyzanian script. His eyes darkened a shade, but the pigment fluttered, a sign he was struggling with mixed emotions.

“What is it, sir?” Briin asked.

“An invitation to tour that feverish blue-green world orbiting Sol.”

Thissizz lifted his rosy orange head from the desolation in the hearth room and sneezed. ‘Terra?” He wiped his nose with his tongue, and Briin actually performed a small hop in his excitement

“Oh, congratulations, sir!” he gushed. “Could you bring me a hat?”

“A hat?” Mikk’s eyes still hadn’t setded down, and Briin decided to adjust his enthusiasm to a cooler cheerfulness. He refrained from hopping a second time.

“Yes, sir. I understand Terran gendemen wear hats.”

Mikk arched his red eyebrows. T don’t see why not. Did you have a particular style in mind?”

Briin whipped the stylus out of his hair and deposited it in the sleeve of his chartreuse and purple tunic.

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